A.K.A. Page 20
“Was it worth it?”
I look away, out the window. I want this conversation over.
“Well, was it?”
I look at her. “Yes, it was worth it. I’d do it again and again, if I had to.”
Her frown deepens as she shakes her head and looks out her window.
I turn and look out my window.
Just like that, the temperature in the car drops twenty degrees and a wall’s erected between us.
James clears his throat. “Should I take the back way, ma’am?”
“Yes. We can never be too careful.”
James gets backs onto the highway.
“Could you speed up, James?”
“I am, ma’am. I have the pedal to the metal.”
“I guess Garbo is getting old.”
“Garbo?” I ask.
“The car, sir.”
“Of course.”
James takes the next exit.
“Didn’t we just get on the highway?”
“Yes, sir. We did. Now we’re getting off. It’s the long way, sir.”
“Obviously.”
He chuckles.
We drive around a wooded area in what seems like a circle before we pull onto a tree-lined brick road. It reminds me of the one leading to the estate.
At the end of the road, James stops in front of an old iron gate. Magnolia is scrolled ornately in the middle of what looks to be magnolia blossoms.
A man who looks exactly like James steps out of a guard station.
James laughs and waves him over to the passenger side.
He opens the door and sits next to his likeness.
“Hey, bro,” the newcomer says.
James smiles his way. “Out for a run?”
“Yeah, I was running by the creek and saw Garbo.”
“Lazy bones,” James teases. “What are you up to?”
“About twenty miles.”
“That’s impressive,” Mary says.
He looks over his shoulder as the gate opens and the car passes through. “Sight for my sore eyes, Mrs. Caldwell.”
She smiles.
He smiles as he looks at me. “Is this him?”
“It is,” Mary says.
“Hmm,” he replies. “Looks nothing like his daddy.”
“Not one bit,” James adds.
He holds out his hand. “Jacob, Mr. Hudson.”
I shake it. “Drake.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“I’m good with Drake.”
“Not proper, sir. I could call you Sir Drake.”
James laughs and slaps the steering wheel in his hysteria.
“It’s not that funny,” I tell him.
His laughter kicks up a notch.
“I give up.”
Jacob looks at Mary. “Grannie’s been havin’ a tizzy since you called. Bossin’ Papa Benny around the kitchen. Tellin’ him how to cook her corn bread as if he hasn’t been cookin’ it for years.”
“After seventy-five years, I think he’s use to it,” Mary says.
“Papa Benny pays her no mind,” James says. “Turns his hearing aid off as soon as Grannie walks in the kitchen.”
Jacob laughs. “In church a few Sundays back, Reverend Helms asked Papa Benny what was his secret to matrimonial success. Papa Benny pulled out his hearing aid and showed the congregation how he could turn it off.”
Mary, Jacob, James, and even I laugh at this, not even knowing who this Papa Benny is. Whoever these people are, it’s clear that Mary adores them.
“Mama said that Lucky has a new beau. Have you met him?” Jacob asks James.
“Our sister’s love life is a roller coaster, one I’m not getting on.”
“Lucky’s your sister?” I ask them.
“Sure is,” Jacob says.
Mary taps my shoulder and nods toward the front of the car. A large plantation estate sits in the middle of a grand circular drive.
As we drive closer, I can’t stop the smile that I know is taking up the lower half of my face.
“What do you think?” Mary asks.
“It’s spectacular.”
Mary sits back into the old leather seat and smiles.
James turns onto the brick-paved circular drive and we make our way half around and stop underneath a white canopy. Magnolia is etched into a set of grand French doors that sit in the middle of a succession of French doors. These doors stand open, and the late afternoon breeze billowed the shear curtains as it blows them in and out.
“What is this place?”
Mary sighs contently but remains silent.
A man identical to James and Jacob appears from one of the opened French doors and waves our way.
“Triplets,” I say out loud to no one in particular.
“Yes, sir,” James says. “It’s obvious, wouldn’t you say, sir?”
Mary giggles. “That’s John.”
James waves back as he and Jacob exit the car.
John opens Mary’s door. “Mrs. Caldwell. It’s been too long.”
He gives her his hand, and she takes it. “It’s only been a week or so, John.”
He helps her out of the car. “Like I said, ma’am, way too long.”
She shakes her head as she gives both John and Jacob hugs.
I place my briefcase in the middle of the seat and exit.
John looks my way. “Is that him?”
Mary nods.
Before I can tell them I can speak for myself, Mary officially introduces me. “John, this is Drake Hudson.”
I shake John’s hand.
“You don’t look like your daddy. Not on lick.”
James slaps him on the back. “That’s enough, brother.”
John nods. “Understood.”
I wish I understood. I have questions piling and now spilling off the desk in my brain.
Mary walks to my side of the car and takes my elbow. “Welcome to Magnolia, Drake.”
We walk through the main doors. Comfortable Southern conversation sets are grouped throughout a large, open room. In the middle sits a bar or… “A hotel?”
Mary nods. “The first Caldwell hotel. Papa willed it to Grannie and Benny. The Magnolia is their home.”
I look around. “It’s—”
“Incredible,” Mary says.
“Yes, and more.”
“I understand you’re an architect,” Jacob says.
“Yes. An architectural engineer.”
“How about a tour?”
I look at Mary.
She nods. “Go ahead. We’ll meet at the end.”
Jacob waves for me to follow him up a grand staircase.
I have seen and worked on hotels around the world. But this hotel in the middle of, I have no idea where, is by far my favorite. Its thirty guest rooms, ballroom, two dining rooms, three private dining rooms, two pools, and grounds are grand and stately, yet it isn’t pretentious or overwhelming. It is in all respects a home for many. I can’t help but wonder why this Papa, who I assume is my grandfather or great-grandfather, would will it away. It would have been the benchmark, the shining star of the Caldwell Hotels.
At the end of the tour, Jacob leads me through the lobby and into a private dining room. A warm breeze spills through the open doors, bringing with it the scent of magnolia and honeysuckle.
Jacob walks to a bar at the back of the room. “What’s your pleasure, sir?”
“Scotch neat,” I tell him as I look around.
He hands me my drink.
“Thank you.” I tilt my crystal tumbler his way. “Would you join me?”
“No, sir. I’m on call.”
“On call?”
“I’m an ER doctor. I work at Memorial. John works there too. He’s an orthopedic surgeon.”
“Wow, two doctors in the family.”
He holds up his hand.
“Five.”
“Momma’s a physiatrist, Daddy’s an anesthesiologist, and my wife, Wanda, is a family doctor.”
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“Sounds as if you have almost all your bases covered.”
“James is an RN.”
I raise a brow to this. “He is? Why is he driving—”
“You’ll have to ask James about that.”
Jacob pours himself a soda as I walk around the room and look at the many pictures of what I first assumed were hotel guests or Jacob’s family until I spy several featuring Mary as a young girl and woman.
Jacob joins me. “Mrs. Caldwell hasn’t changed much. On the outside anyway.”
I nod and point to a man standing beside her in one of the photos. “Who is this?”
He smiles. “That’s Mr. Ames. We called him Mr. Beau. He was a fine man. The best,” he adds.
I see a picture of Beau, Mary, and a baby. “He was Mary’s first husband?”
“Yes, sir.”
He points to a picture of Mary’s son. “Kendal,” he says reverently. “He was our best friend.”
“You and your brothers?”
He nods. “Momma called us the four musketeers. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him.”
“Mary said he was killed in a hunting accident.”
He frowns. “He was killed all right.”
“Why would—”
He moves on to the next picture, cutting me off. “This is the Caldwell family.” He points. “Mary’s grandparents, her mama and daddy, Mary and her brother, William. William was killed in Vietnam.”
What? “Mary’s family? I—”
“How was the tour?”
We turn and face Mary.
“Good, I think,” Jacob tells her. He looks at his watch. “I best be gettin’ on. Wanda sends her love.”
“She better be off her feet when I visit next week.”
“You know Wanda.”
“It’s crazy when a doctor doesn’t heed her own advice.”
He smiles and looks at me. “She’s thirty-six weeks pregnant with twins.”
I nod, even though I have zero clue if that’s a good thing or bad thing.
“And acts like she’s not at all,” Mary adds.
He holds up his hands. “I’ve already lost that battle.”
She kisses him on the cheek. “You won’t lose all of them.”
He nods my way. “Nice to meet you, Drake.”
“You too, Jacob.”
He exits.
Mary walks to the bar and pours herself two fingers of bourbon. She then nods toward a table. “I can see your mind working, Drake. Sit and we’ll talk.”
I sit at the table, and she joins me.
“I’m confused, and not for the first time today.”
“I told you.”
“But I’m not from around here. So what’s my excuse?”
“What can I clarify for you?”
I point to the pictures hanging on the wall. “You’re a Caldwell?”
She nods.
“How can that be?”
She drinks half her bourbon and sets the tumbler down. “Terrance took my name?”
“What? Why?”
“Papa didn’t like him. He told Terrance if he was to marry me, he’d have to change his name.”
“I’m still confused.”
“Terrance’s family, the Evans, have a long history in these parts. And not always a proper history.”
“Proper?”
“They were moonshiners back in the day, later other criminal stuff.”
“Organized crime?”
She nods. “To change his name, in his family’s eyes, was like a slap in the face. But he did it and all but one member of his family disowned him.”
“Evans? Why does that sound familiar?”
“I believe you refer to him as the weasel.”
“Oh my God. I’m related to the weasel.”
“Terrance and Hodges are cousins.”
“So, I’m not a Caldwell.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Here I was thinking…”
“What?”
“That running Caldwell was my birthright. Dad kept telling me it was my birthright. Why would he say such a thing?”
She remains silent.
“So Caldwell International became his by marriage?”
“Before Papa died, he put the company into a family trust. Terrance doesn’t even own a bed sheet.”
“You must hate me. I’m a product of your husband’s infidelity, even if your marriage has been one of convenience, and you knew my mother—”
She puts her hand over mine. “I don’t hate you.”
“I shouldn’t be CEO. He promised me something that wasn’t his to promise.”
“You wouldn’t be if I didn’t approve of it.”
I rub my throbbing temples.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but there’s not an easy way to show someone the light when they’ve been kept in the dark for too long.”
“I just don’t understand why he’d lie about owning Caldwell International. I know he’s flawed and I know he crossed the line. But he did it out of love, out of grief, right?”
Mary remains silent.
“How come there aren’t pictures of Thomas here? How come I don’t see them at the estate? Is it too painful?”
“Something like that,” she says.
“There’s my girl.”
I look toward the door. The oldest looking woman I’ve ever seen comes in with a tray.
She sets the tray down on our table. “Is this him, Toddy?”
“It’s him, Grannie.”
Toddy?
She lowers her glasses. Looking at me from over the rim, she says, “You’ve got your daddy’s eyes.”
Grannie clearly needs to keep her glasses in place. His eyes are gray-blue with spatters of gold and green. Strange eyes. Mine are deep blue.
Grannie removes two salads and a basket full of corn bread from the tray. “I hope you like corn bread.”
I don’t, but no way am I going to tell her.
“Toddy used to ask for it every birthday. No white cake with butter cream frosting and pink sprinkles for my girl.”
“Not when I could have Grannie’s corn bread.”
Grannie chuckles. “I’ll leave you two be.”
Mary takes her fragile hand and gives it a slight squeeze. “Thank you, Grannie.”
“Promise me you’ll make things right, and that will be my thanks.”
“I promise, Grannie.”
Grannie looks at me. “You watch over my Toddy.”
I nod, not knowing what to say.
Grannie takes her empty tray and leaves us.
“Toddy?”
“It’s my first name. I’m named after my grandmother, my mom never warmed up to it, so I’ve gone by my middle name, or half of it anyway.”
“How old is Grannie?”
“It depends on who you ask. If you ask her, she’ll say eighty-seven. If you ask anyone else, they’ll say one hundred and three.”
“Wow. That’s old, old.”
We eat in mostly silence for a few minutes.
“I’ve never liked corn bread, but this—” I hold up the last piece. “—is like no corn bread I’ve ever had.”
Mary takes it from my hand. “Thank you, Drake.”
“Hey.”
She giggles. “Okay, I’ll give you half.” She breaks it in half and hands me my portion.
“Thanks. Do you think we could take some home?”
She shakes her head. “Grannie uses her corn bread as bait. Why do think all the boys were here.”
I swallow my last bite. “Clever.”
“That she is.”
“This is none of my business, but why did your papa will away Magnolia?”
“He was righting a wrong.”
“Not following?”
“This land was taken from Grannie’s family decades ago. He gave it back. You don’t agree?”
“It’s not for me to agree or not.”
“Papa did a lot of things peopl
e around here didn’t care for. I think that’s why I loved him so much. His heart was always bigger than his aspirations.”
“You and everyone at the estate have been different since my father left. Why is that?”
“Because we’re clever mice.”
THE KING MUST STAY ALIVE AT ALL COSTS
Hot breath and moist lips trial down the center of my chest. A smile washes over my lips. “Mmm.”
“You like?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You want more?”
“Yes. Please.”
She teases me with her tongue, swirling and dipping before sucking. It feels like heaven, and I want to let go and go higher. But giving up control is something I will never allow. It’s a sign of weakness not only in my eyes, but also in the eyes of my father. It’s the only trait we have in common.
But I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of fighting my body and my heart. I want her more than my need to control. I want to give her something I’ve never given, me.
I lift my hips in part invitation, part plea.
“Not yet.”
She loves to torture me. I love to be tortured, so it’s a win, bigger win.
She takes me into her mouth, her full lips stretching to accommodate my girth.
I moan.
She groans around me.
I lift my hips higher, saying please don’t stop; take all of me.
Her tongue flattens.
My cock twitches in anticipation.
She swallows.
My balls tighten as the back of her throat encases me.
I can take no more. I want to be inside her. I want to claim her, brand her as mine.
“No more,” I plead.
She releases me with a pop and sinks down on my needy, aching cock.
I come undone and cry out, “God, baby, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve been right here, Drake.”
I open my eyes. No!
“I love you, Drake,” Suzette calls out as she comes.
I close my eyes, wishing her away.
She lies down next to me. “That was great.”
I remain silent as I roll over. Shame and guilt wash over me like a wave, saturating me inch by inch. I can’t do this anymore; pretend everything is peachy when it’s a rotten apple. Suzette deserves better.
She gets out of bed, grabs her pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, pulls them on, then turns and looks at me. “I get that what you did left scars, Drake. I get that living with you father and your new job is difficult, but it’s been almost a year since the trial and you still don’t sleep. You toss and turn and cry out her name almost nightly.” She wipes a tear off her cheek and continues. “What we just did, I would be a fool to believe it was me you were thinking about.”