The Trophy Hunter (14 page)

“Girl talk,” said Jess to Winston.

“Oh,” he said, then cleared his throat before
adding, “I think we’re done here.”

“Let’s at least finish our workout,” said
Jess. “You don’t get off so easy.” She patted Winston’s
mid-section, which looked pretty flat to Diana. “Putting on a few
pounds?”

“Not me,” he replied. “But let’s work off
some of this frustration. Back to the treadmills, ladies.”

It made no sense that Flannigan would
brazenly drive Larry Strickland’s truck, thought Diana. Or even
keep it in his driveway. If he’d bought the truck, wouldn’t he have
changed the registration by now? But she was sure about the license
plate on the one she saw. Jess must be mistaken.

“Did your truck have a ram hood ornament?”
asked Diana.

“Sure did.”

Another coincidence? I don’t think so.

They trod in silence for the balance of the
hour.

“Anybody want to grab a bite?” asked Jess
when all three had worked up a respectable sweat.

“I think I’ll pass, if I can have a rain
check,” said Diana.

Winston took her arm, more gently than Jess
had. “We care about you. Be careful.”

His touch was warm and strong. She still felt
it after he’d let go.
Better get that H.R.T. adjustment
soon.
“I care about you guys, too.” She was about to blubber
again, but stopped it.

After they showered, changed and went their
separate ways, Diana remembered. She hadn’t really looked at the
license plate when Flannigan was in front of her house. She’d just
remembered it from
his
house, because it was so appropriate.
HUNTER 1.

And the truck in the Buckhorn parking lot?
She’d never even seen that plate.

Chapter 25

Diana’s mood soured as she drove home from
the gym. On reflection, her friends attempting to take charge of
her decisions left her feeling defensive. She convinced herself
that in all probability it had been Joe Flannigan’s truck at the
Buckhorn and probably on Colfax, too.

Back on that night in December, he’d also
have had time to drive down Colfax and scare Jess after she’d
shaken him off her tail. He probably hadn’t followed her for as
long as she’d thought. She knew for a fact that he’d been in front
of her house. Probably on his way home by then. Damn. She wished
Cherry Hills and Greenwood Village weren’t so close together.

Of course Winston was going to take Joe’s
part. And Jess had every reason to malign Darren’s character ….

As she approached the entrance to Cherry
Hills Farm, Diana waited while a Yellow Cab that was exiting the
subdivision turned left in front of her. Not an event of
consequence. Until she reached her house.

Oh, jeez, no. Tell me this is not
happening.

On her porch stood a tall woman in a
full-length fur coat─the real thing, not the faux stuff.

Diana turned into the driveway, then hit the
garage door opener. As she pulled into the garage, the woman waved
to her. She parked the car, tempted to just go directly into the
house from the garage. But that would only delay the
inevitable.

Stepping outside, she closed the garage door
with her remote, and then braced herself against more than the
cold.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Will you please stop dawdling and open the
front door.” A command, not a request.

I’ll dawdle all I damn please.
“If
you’d let me know you were coming, you wouldn’t be out here
freezing your ass off.”

Diana opened the front door. Eleanor Martin
swept by her grandly. “If I’d let you know I was coming, you
wouldn’t be here now.”

“You’re probably right,” said Diana, closing
the door behind them.

In the light of the foyer, Diana watched her
mother shed the awful set of dead-animal skins that she so highly
prized.
Let her hang it up herself. She knows where the closet
is.

When her mother returned from this task,
Diana noticed her pale mauve cashmere pantsuit, perfect platinum
hair─even after hours on the plane and more time in a taxi. Her
mother’s skin was incredibly taut and youthful for a woman of
fifty-eight.
New facelift?

“You look tired, Diana.”

Diana headed for the living room, then saw
that her mother was on her way to the kitchen. “Have you eaten,
Mother? They do still feed the first class on a plane, don’t
they?”

“Not like they used to,” replied Eleanor as
she examined the contents of Diana’s refrigerator. “No yogurt?”

“I’ll make you some tea.” Diana sighed.
Sustained anger was too heavy a load to carry indefinitely.

Eleanor sat down on a stool at the island and
removed leather gloves that matched her suit. “Greg’s living with
that tart, you know.”

“I know. They’re married.”

“So fast?”

“That’s how things happen here when you’re
not fighting over property or─”

“Why so fast? Were they racing the
stork?”

“The
stork
?” Diana looked at her
mother’s long legs and slender nose. A suppressed giggle escaped
her.

“I’m glad you can laugh about it. Daddy and I
have been worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Diana handed her mother a cup of
hot tea from the microwave, then put in a cup for herself. “You
want some reheated manicotti?”

“Is it vegetarian?”

Vegetarian and you wear a fur coat?
“It has a cheese filling. Is that okay?”

Eleanor nodded as she looked down at her
perfectly manicured hands. “Daddy and I have been reading up on
postpartum psychosis, dear.”

Diana dropped the refrigerator dish.
Manicotti flew like missiles and splattered on the kitchen tiles.
As she cleaned up the mess, Diana eyed her mother who seemed
unruffled after the bombshell she’d just set off. And the cashmere
pantsuit still appeared spotless.
Why couldn’t I have
aimed?

“So, you think I’m nuts, Ma?”

“You never call me ‘Ma.’”

“I just did.”

“It’s the violence, Diana. The tart told me
about it. She answered Greg’s phone and told me all about it.”

“It?”

“You attacked Greg with a golf club. Do you
remember doing that, or is it repressed?”

“I revel in the memory. One of my
fondest.”

Eleanor got up off the stool and moved toward
her. Diana moved back out of reach.

“You need help, Diana. You’ve never had a
propensity toward violence. You were a gentle child.”

“No I wasn’t. I was an angry child. You just
never noticed.”

“What were you angry about? Daddy and I─”

“─are full of crap. Pretending you had a
marriage all those years when all you had was a financial
arrangement.”

She watched the color drain from her mother’s
face. Eleanor sagged back down on the kitchen stool. Somehow she
looked much smaller than she had a minute ago. Diana had a
momentary flash of guilt.
No. This time she’s going to face
it.

“I did what you never had the guts to do,
Mother.”

Eleanor looked away. Seemed to be studying
the blue and white tile pattern. “How long have you known?” she
asked in a remarkably detached voice.

“I was about four when I saw the babysitter
Lewinski-ing Daddy in the guest bathroom. I didn’t even know what I
was seeing, but it sure looked weird.”

Eleanor’s mouth drooped, but no sound escaped
her. Remorse crowded in, dampening Diana’s anger. It felt like
squashing an injured bird, not that she’d ever experienced that.
Her words felt cruel, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“When I was older and realized what I had
seen, I started looking for the signs while you turned away and
pretended he wasn’t cheating on you. How could you do that? Is
money so important to you that you’d sell your soul?”

Eleanor sat silently, perfectly manicured
fingers covering her perfect mouth, pressing hard to keep the
secrets in.

“Cry or something, Mom.”
Mom.
Diana
rarely called her that. Too endearing. Maybe she needed some
endearing. “Please, Mom, say something.” Tears filled Diana’s
eyes.

The hands came down to rest, then one picked
up the mug of tea. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said. “You’ve
never been afraid of anything.”

“Me fearless? I’ve been afraid to talk about
this all of my life.”

“Why would you want to talk about it?”

Are you really my mother? How can we be so
different?

“Because I wanted to show you that you don’t
have to live a lie. There are alternatives.”

“Yes, I suppose there are alternatives.”
Eleanor’s posture straightened as she looked at Diana, the old
superior glint back in her eye. “I could have divorced your father
and ended up alone. Like you.”

Diana dumped the manicotti and broken dish in
the trash, slamming the lid down hard. “You know what, Mother?” she
asked as tears pushed against the backs of her eyes, “I’d a damn
sight rather be alone than to live like you do. I’ll bet he doesn’t
even bother to hide it. Or maybe he does. Is that why you don’t
have caller I.D.? In case one of them calls him?”

Eleanor didn’t blink. Whatever reaction Diana
had hoped for wasn’t materializing.
What did I think? We’d yell
at each other, then cry and hug? And be mother and daughter at
last?

The wisp of a frown creased Eleanor’s brow,
as if her Botox needed a boost. “Do you think it was that apparent
… to other people?”

You are pathetic.

As if reading her mind, Eleanor continued,
“You needn’t feel sorry for me. I have a friend now, you know. His
name is Kenneth. He’s a bit younger ….”

My mother has a boy-toy?

Eleanor looked expectantly at her.

It’s a bit late for girl talk. Like twenty
years.
“I’ll go make up the guest room, Mother.”

Chapter 26

Diana watched nervously from an upstairs
window. Though it was still only February, a Chinook wind had eaten
up all the snow and seduced the trees and shrubs into sending out
early buds. The late afternoon sun still warmed crocus and daffodil
blooms that lined the front walk. She counted herself blessed that
her mother was safely on a plane back to Chicago.

As a tan pickup truck pulled into her
driveway, she straightened the collar on her green silk blouse,
then glanced briefly at her full-length image in the bedroom
mirror.

When she looked back outside, Darren Rogart
was ushering his two children toward her front door. Lori looked
small and vulnerable as she clung to her father’s hand. Keith, on
the other hand, looked like any active ten-year-old as he bounced
off the front walk toward a squirrel on the fence.

Why take the daughter hunting and leave
the son at home?
The question was shuttled aside by the sound
of the doorbell. She hurried toward the stairs.
Slow down.
You’re acting like a schoolgirl.

When she’d called Rogart to tell him about
not being able to help him with the trust matter, he’d said it was
no big deal. She’d offered to mail the instrument back to him, but
he said he wanted to pick it up and introduce the kids.
This is
a big deal. Maybe.
It had been big enough to keep from Jess and
Winston.

As she opened the door, Diana was struck by
Lori’s beauty. The girl had the same almond-shaped eyes and high
cheekbones that Diana had observed in Rena Flannigan and in the
photograph of Brandi. But Lori had blond hair and gray-hazel eyes
under dark lashes. The ethnic blending was awesome.

Rogart stood behind his daughter, his hands
resting lightly on her shoulders. “Diana, I’d like you to meet
Lori,” he said.

As Diana reached out instinctively, Lori
winced, avoiding her touch. The girl’s eyes were downcast as she
mumbled a greeting. But when she did look up at Diana, her eyes
were more insolent than shy.

“Keith, get over here,” Rogart called
good-naturedly to his son. Keith gave up on the squirrel and
hurried over to the doorway. A handsome little boy, he too had
Rogart’s piercing hazel eyes.

Diana watched as Lori looked beyond her into
the house, as guarded curiosity hardening her eyes. Diana moved
aside, realizing she’d been staring at the girl. “Come in,” she
invited, trying to make amends with a welcoming smile.

Rogart stepped in front of Lori and gave
Diana a chaste hug and a peck on the cheek.

What, no tongue? Bite yours, Diana.

“Come on, kids,” he beckoned. They slowly
trailed him into the house, looking around awkwardly.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Rogart.

Diana smiled. “But you’re not. Late, that
is.” She led the way into the living room, then turned toward the
children. “Lori and Keith, I’ve heard so much about you. I hope you
like lasagna.”

The children both smiled half-heartedly as
they nodded politely.

“How about a soda pop?” Diana offered.

“Okay,” said Lori as she took a seat on the
sofa beside her father. She sat too close. Diana blinked as she
assessed the girl’s posture. It was not that of a shy, traumatized
youngster. More like a woman asserting her territory, her
expression a beat away from hostility.

Diana turned toward Keith so she wouldn’t be
staring at Lori again. After giving the living room a once-over,
she watched him head toward the patio door at the rear of the room.
“Do you have any pets?” he asked.

“Yes, a cat,” replied Diana. “He sometimes
hides when he doesn’t know you.”

“Is he hiding now?”

“Maybe. Why don’t you look around? He’s a
big, yellow tabby.” Diana smiled inwardly. At least the boy seemed
to be warming up.

Keith slid open the patio door, stuck his
head outside, then called back, “What’s his name?”

“Tigger.”

As if on cue, Tigger ambled into the room
from the kitchen and promptly jumped into Rogart’s lap. Diana felt
relief as she saw Lori’s expression soften as she reached out to
pet the cat.