Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas #1)(142)

It was past eight the next morning before either of them stirred. Francesca stretched lazily and Dallie pulled her close for a cuddle. They were just beginning to fool around a little when they heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Dallie cussed under his breath. Francesca jerked her head toward the door and then watched in alarm as the knob began to turn. An ugly vision flashed through her mind of an army of Dallie's old girlfriends stalking in, each with a house key dangling from her fingers. “Oh, God...” She couldn't help it. She slid down beneath the covers and pulled the sheet over her head. At that exact moment, she heard the door open.

Dallie sounded mildly exasperated. “For Pete's sake, couldn't you even knock?”

“I was afraid I'd spill my coffee. I hope that's Francie under there or I'm going to be embarrassed.”

“As a matter of fact, it's not Francie,” Dallie said. “And you should be embarrassed.”

The mattress sagged as Holly Grace settled down on the side of the bed, her hips brushing against Francesca's calves. The faint fragrance of coffee penetrated the sheet.

“The least you could do was bring me a cup, too,” Dallie complained.

Holly Grace apologized. “I wasn't thinking; I've got a lot on my mind. You were kidding, weren't you, about that not being Francie under there?”

Dallie patted Francesca's hip through the covers. “You stay right there, Rosalita honey. This crazy person'll be gone in a few minutes.”

Holly Grace tugged on the top of the sheet. “Francie, I need to talk to both of you.”

Francesca clutched the sheet tighter and muttered something in Spanish about turning left at the corner to get to the post office. Dallie chuckled.

“Come on, Francie, I know it's you,” Holly Grace said. “Your underwear's all over the floor—what there is of it.”

Francesca saw no graceful way out. With as much dignity as possible, she lowered the sheet to her chin and glared at Holly Grace, who sat on the edge of the bed wearing old jeans and a Cowboys sweat shirt. “What do you want?” she demanded. “For three days you've refused to talk to me. Why did you have to pick this morning to get chatty?”

“I needed some time to think.”

“Couldn't you have chosen a more appropriate place to meet?” Francesca asked. Next to her, Dallie leaned up against the headboard, sipping Holly Grace's coffee and looking as relaxed as ever. As the only person lying down, Francesca suddenly realized she had put herself at a disadvantage. Anchoring the sheet under her arms, she swallowed her embarrassment and pushed herself up until she was sitting, too.

“Want a sip?” Dallie asked, holding out the coffee mug.

She pushed her hair out of her face and thanked him with exaggerated politeness, determined to out-casual them both. As she took the mug, Holly Grace stood and walked toward the window, her hands jumping from her front pockets to her rear pockets. Watching the gesture, Francesca realized that her friend was a lot more nervous than she pretended. As she looked more closely, she saw telltale signs of tension in the set of Holly Grace's shoulders.

Holly Grace played with the edge of the drapery. “See, the thing of it is—this situation that's happened between the two of you has sort of gotten in the way of some plans I made.”

“What situation?” Francesca inquired defensively.

“What plans?” Dallie asked.

Holly Grace turned. “Francie, you've got to understand that none of this has anything to do with disapproval. I've been telling you for years that you missed out on one of life's great opportunities by not spending more time in bed with Dallas Beaudine.”

“Holly Grace!” Francesca protested.

“Thanks, honey,” Dallie said.

Francesca realized they were starting to get the best of her again, and she took a slow, calming sip of coffee. Holly Grace wandered to the foot of the bed and gazed at her ex-husband. “Dallie, my biological clock is about to hit midnight. I kept thinking that sooner or later I'd find somebody I wanted to marry. For a while I even hoped Gerry and I— Anyway, I planned to settle down and let the 'China Colt' producers shoot me from the chest up every few seasons while I had a couple of babies. But lately I've realized that's a fantasy and the thing of it is... I've got an ache inside me.” She walked around to Francesca's side of the bed, hugging herself as if she were cold.

Francesca saw the sadness in her friend's beautiful, proud features, and she could guess what it had cost Holly Grace to be so open about her need for a child. She passed the coffee mug off to Dallie and patted the bed beside her. “Sit down, Holly Grace, and tell me what's wrong.”

Holly Grace sat, her blue eyes locking with Francesca's green ones. “You know how much I want to have a baby, Francie, and I guess everything that's happened with Teddy has made me think about it even more. I'm tired of only being able to love other people's kids; I want my own. Dallie's been telling me for years not to wrap all my happiness up in a dollar bill, and I guess I've finally realized that he's right.”

Francesca reached out and touched her arm sympathetically. She wished Gerry hadn't flown home yesterday, although after three days of trying unsuccessfully to get Holly Grace to talk to him, she didn't blame him. “When you get back to New York, you and Gerry need to get together. I know you love him, and he loves you, and—”