Christmas On The Range: Winter Roses. Diana Palmer
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to be dating anybody lately. I asked him why and he said it wasn’t fun anymore. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he’d found someone he wanted to get serious about.”
“That’s unlikely,” Ivy said, but she wondered if Merrie was right. It made her sad.
“Unlikely, but not impossible. I think I might come to the dance, too,” she said out of the blue. “I can get someone to work my shift. Everybody owes me favors.”
“Who will you come with?”
“I’ll come by myself,” Merrie returned. “I don’t need a date. Tell Hayes to save me a dance, though.”
Ivy laughed. “He can take both of us. That will really shake people up locally. They’ll think he’s putting around a new sort of double-dating.”
Merrie laughed, too. “I had a flaming crush on Hayes when we were in high school, but he couldn’t see me for dust. That was about the time he fell in with the she-tiger who ditched him for the Aussie. Served him right. Anybody could see that she was only a gold digger.”
“Hayes owns his own ranch,” she began.
“And he inherited a trust from his grandfather,” Merrie agreed. “But Hayes isn’t the sort to live on an income he didn’t earn. He’s like Stuart. They’re both independent.”
“Same as you,” Ivy accused.
She laughed. “I guess so.”
“How do you like being a nurse?”
“I love it,” Merrie said honestly. “I’ve never enjoyed anything so much. I love knowing that I helped keep someone alive. It’s the best job in the whole world.”
“Merrie, you work all day with sick people,” Ivy pointed out.
“Sick people? Me? Are you sure?”
“You work in a hospital,” Ivy returned.
“No kidding? No wonder there are sick people everywhere!”
Ivy laughed. “Okay, you made your point. You’re in the right place. I’m glad you like your job. You might not believe it, but I like mine just as much. I’m working with some really interesting people.”
“So I’ve heard,” Merrie replied. “I’m glad you’re happy. But speaking of pleasant things, have you heard from Rachel?”
Ivy’s happy face fell. She drew in a long breath. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. Not in over two months. The last I heard, she was trying to get away from Jerry the drug dealer so that she could shack up with a richer man. She wouldn’t tell me his name. She did mention that he was married.”
“Married. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I could barely make sense of what she said,” Ivy replied. “She slurred her words so badly that she was incoherent. I can’t imagine what a rich man would see in a woman who stays stoned all the time. How she can still act in that condition is beyond me.”
“As long as she’s leaving you alone, that has to be a bonus.”
“I suppose. I just worry about her. She’s the only living relative I have,” she added. “Maybe the rich guy will wean her off drugs and get her away from Jerry for good. Unless his wife finds out.” She groaned. “That’s just what it would take to send Rachel over the edge. I’m sure she’s convinced herself that he’ll divorce his wife to stay with her. I don’t think he will.”
“Most of them don’t,” Merrie agreed. “Did she argue with the drug dealer?”
“I have no idea. But from what I understood, she thinks she’s landed in a field of clover. The rich guy buys her diamonds.”
“I won’t ask what he gets in return.”
Ivy grimaced. “Neither would I.”
“Well, I’ll see you at the dance. Where is it, and when?”
Ivy gave her the particulars, but she was morose when she hung up. What if Rachel was involved with someone well-known and the wife found out and went after her in the press? Rachel was brassy and demanding and totally lacking in compassion. But she was weak in every other way. A scandal would drive her over the edge. There was no telling what she might do.
There had been something unusual in their last conversation as well. Rachel had asked her to pass a message along to the owner of the only bakery in town, the Bun Shop. It hadn’t made sense to Ivy; something about a shipment of flour that hadn’t arrived on schedule. She wanted to know why Rachel was concerned with a bake shop. Rachel said it was a friend who needed the message passed along.
That conversation had been more volatile than she felt comfortable divulging to Merrie. Rachel had mentioned the ultimatum she’d given her rich lover, that either he divorce his wife or she’d go public with the truth of their relationship. Ivy had pleaded with her to do no such thing, that if the man was that rich, his wife could hire someone to hurt her. Rachel had only laughed, saying that the wife was a cold fish who was half out of her mind, and that she posed no threat at all. But in case that fell through, she said, she’d discovered another good way to get a lot of money. She taunted Ivy with her newfound sources of wealth, intimating that Ivy couldn’t get a man even if she had millions. Ivy didn’t care. She was tired of Rachel’s sarcasm.
They’d parted on not good terms. Rachel had accused her of being jealous. She’d never gotten the attention Rachel had, not even from their father. Ivy was just a loser, Rachel said, and she’d never be more than a clerk. Ivy had agreed that Rachel had gotten more attention at home, by lying about Ivy to their father and letting her take the punishment their father had deemed appropriate for her supposed sins.
Rachel had sounded shocked at the description of their father’s idea of punishment. Ivy was lying, she’d accused. The old man hadn’t had a violent bone in his body. He loved Rachel, Ivy reminded her sister bitterly. Ivy was just the servant, and the more Rachel denounced her, the more critical and angry he became.
For a few seconds, Rachel actually sounded regretful. But it passed, as those rare bouts of sympathy always did. Rachel hung up abruptly, mumbling that her lover was at the door.
Ivy put down the phone and realized that she was shaking. Reliving those last days Rachel was at home made her miserable. Her memories were terrible.
* * *
She did go shopping for a dress, but the boutique owner she kept books for insisted on letting her borrow one of her own designs for the affair.
“It’s my display model,” Marcella Black insisted, “and just your size. Besides, it’s the exact shade of green that your eyes are. You come by here at five, and I’ll help you into it and I’ll do your hair and makeup as well. No arguments. You’re going to be a fairy princess Friday night.”
“I’ll turn into the frog at midnight,” Ivy teased.
“Fat chance.”
“All right. I’ll come by at five on Friday. And thanks, Marcella. Really.”
The older woman wrinkled her nose affectionately. “You just tell everybody who made that dress for you, and we’re even.”
“You bet I will!”
* * *
Hayes wasn’t wearing his uniform. He had on a dark suit with a white cotton shirt and a blue patterned tie. His shoes were so shiny that they reflected the porch light at Mrs. Brown’s rooming house.
Ivy had just returned in the little used VW she’d bought and learned to drive two years earlier from Marcella’s boutique, where she’d been dressed and her long blond hair had been put up in a curly coiffure. She had on just enough makeup to make her look sensational. She was shocked at the results. She’d never really tried to look good. Her mirror told her that she did.
Hayes