Spring Fever

“And me,” he said helpfully, sliding her onto his lap.

“Yes,” she said. “You, too.” She pushed herself off his lap. “Now can we please go back to the Pinecone? You were going to court me, remember? If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right.”

On the way back to the motel, she found the cassette tape she’d made and slid it into the player. When Steve Perry sang the opening lines of “Open Arms” she looked over and saw that Mason was singing right along with Journey at the top of his lungs. Shane had said Journey was cheesy. She didn’t care. This was their song. They were getting a do-over. For once, their timing was flawless.

47

A

Davis sat at her right hand, in his customary navy suit and striped rep tie. He’d scooted his chair over until it was only inches from his mother’s, and their heads were bowed together as they shared a whispered confidence.

By contrast, Mason had seated himself at the far end of the table. He looked remarkably composed, A

She’d custom-ordered the ties for all the Bayless men: Gle

He glanced over at her, saw what she was looking at, and gave her a wink. A

She’d been a bundle of nerves all morning, trying on and discarding outfits until her room at the Pinecone was strewn with clothing, shoes, and jewelry. In the end, she’d decided on a slimly cut pale aqua sleeveless sheath with a matching jacket. She’d twisted her hair into a modified french knot and, on a whim, chose Grandma Bayless’s diamond engagement ring as her only piece of jewelry—an unspoken declaration of her loyalty. To him. No matter what the day’s outcome.

A

Gle

She waited until Sallie and Davis went into the bank, gave them a five-minute head start, and then followed them in. Sallie’s greeting to her when she entered the conference room was decidedly frosty.

A

The conference room door opened, and all eyes were riveted in that direction. Pokey rushed in, her face flushed, her hair mussed.

She wore a brightly flowered red, yellow, and purple linen maternity tunic; yellow slacks; and spangly purple thongs, and the oversized tote slung over her shoulder was actually a green and navy quilted diaper bag.

Sallie’s eyes flickered briefly but meaningfully over her daughter’s outfit. “There you are,” Sallie drawled. “We were about to send out an all-points bulletin for you. You do know you’re ten minutes late?”

“Sorry, Mama,” Pokey said, sinking down into the empty chair between A

“Never mind,” Sallie said, waving away any other excuses. “Just so you’re here. Did you tell the receptionist to let Norris know we’re all present now?”

“She knows,” Pokey said, reaching for the bottle of water sitting in front of her place at the table and taking a hefty swig. “She said to tell you he’s on the phone.”

“He needs to let one of his junior associates tend to the phones so he can tend to business,” Davis snapped. He glanced down at his watch. “I’m about over all this waiting.”

“Relax, Davis. We’ve been waiting five years,” Pokey said. “Another five minutes won’t kill us.”

“Some of us give a shit,” Davis shot back. “Some of us have a business to attend to.”

“Davis!” Sallie said sharply, laying a warning hand on his sleeve. “That’s enough.”

But Pokey was undaunted. “It’s not even ten thirty yet. No worries, Davis. You can sell off the company after lunch, and then you can hightail it to Figure Eight Island and still have plenty of time to spend your new fortune.”

“Pauline,” Sallie said sternly. “I want this unpleasantness stopped immediately.”

“Whatever,” Pokey said. “I guess we know whose side you’re on, Mama.”

“I’m not on anybody’s side,” Sallie said, struggling to retain her majestic bearing. She looked around at her three grown children. “We are all here for the same reason, and I’d appreciate it if you would all remember that. Your father would not have tolerated this petty bickering.”

“Not so petty, Mama,” Mason said. “Davis wants to sell to Jax Snax for thirty million. That’s a lot of pepperoni popcorn.”

Pokey giggled, but before Sallie could admonish her again, Norris Thomas walked into the room, a thick file folder clutched tightly under his left arm.

A

Davis and Mason got up and shook hands, and Sallie, still seated, coolly offered her own hand in greeting, deliberately making the elderly attorney a supplicant, rather than the trustee of a multimillion-dollar family fortune.

Pokey stood and gave the older man a hug. “Uncle Norris,” she said. “How is Miss Faye?”

“She’s good, spoiling the grandchildren rotten, and she sends her love,” Thomas said. He turned and greeted A

He cleared his throat twice, took a sip from the bottle of water at his place, and cleared his throat once more.

“All right, y’all,” he started, flipping the file open on the table. “I do apologize for being tardy.” He peered down his nose through the spectacles at the file, and then at the family members ranged around the table. “I’m happy to see that everybody is here today, and I trust that you all are enjoying good health?”

“We’re fine, Norris,” Davis said impatiently. “Busy, but fine.”

Sallie shot him a look, but Davis shook it off. “The trust, Norris. We really need to know the details of the trust Dad set up for us.”