She jumped up and ran for her bathroom, but after a few minutes figured she’d probably already thrown up enough of her guts to last her a while, so she rinsed out her mouth and tried to brush her teeth, but that hurt too much. So she grabbed a robe and wrapped up in it before returning to find her other brother sitting and sipping coffee while JR stood staring out one of her tall windows.
“What do you two want?” She wiped a shaking hand down her face. “Never mind. I don’t care. Go away. Leave me to die in peace.” She tried to crawl under the covers.
“You have caused quite the ruckus this morning, little miss thing,” Frank said, his voice flat.
“Whatever,” she said.
“No, seriously. Mama is spitting mad and trying to get Daddy to fire those Italians.”
Lindsay sat up, heart pounding. JR dropped into the window seat. Both of her brothers glared at her. “What are you up to with them, Lindsay?”
“Up to? What are you talking about?”
“Well, that younger one, Tony, he carried you into the house after midnight last night, apparently. Mama screamed to wake the dead. At least that’s what we heard. We weren’t home, and neither was Daddy, so we have no idea what condition you were in.”
“I was in a drunk condition, is all,” she said, shrinking into her pillow and biting her lip.
“Huh, well our mother claims that goombah had …” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “… interfered with you while you were passed out in the car.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Lindsay said. But her voice was small as she wracked her memory for anything that might resemble “interference” from Anton Love.
“Daddy isn’t gonna fire them, I don’t think. They’re damn good at their jobs.”
She glared at them both. “You just like them ’cause they bring girls over at night so you can … can … interfere with them …” She stopped, furious with herself for not knowing what, exactly, they did.
“Never you mind that,” JR declared, getting up and stretching. “I do like ‘em. But you know how Mama gets, and she is on one blessed tear right now. You need to get up, get dressed, and tell her to calm down.”
“I know you’re sweet on him, Linds,” her younger brother said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “But you need to watch yourself.” He got up and joined JR at the door. “Now get on up and tell Mama you are free from interference. I’m sick of hearing about it, and the more she goes on, Daddy might give in just to shut her up.”
She winced when they gave her door a good slam on their way out. Groaning, she flopped onto the pillows, staring up the pink canopy, tears stinging her eyes. Figures that she’d be passed out drunk when Anton Love finally touched her—picked her up and carried her up the stairs like Rhett Butler carried Scarlett O’Hara. She stroked her hand down her front, shivering and imagining him fired and gone, thanks to her own idiotic behavior.
She got up and took a bath, brushed her teeth, and got dressed before sneaking down to the kitchen for aspirin and coffee. Nellie, their cook and all-around helper, was there, breaking up green beans at the table and humming to herself. She kept a pot of coffee on all day, per long-standing instructions. Lindsay was never more grateful for it. Nellie ignored her while she dropped some cream into her cup and swallowed a few tablets, hoping to halt the incessant throbbing in her head.
“Try some of that tomato juice, Miss Lindsay,” she said. But the thought of it made the nausea surge again. Lindsay shook her head and leaned against the large sink, cup cradled in her hands.
“I was a mess yesterday, Nellie.”
“Yes, I heard somethin’ about that,” Nellie said with a smile.
“I didn’t do anything but drink too much. I just … don’t want to marry him.”
Nellie got up and dumped the bean ends and strings into the trash, then carried the pan to the sink and filled it with water. “We don’t always get to choose our futures, honey.”
Lindsay studied the woman who’d worked in her house for as long as Lindsay could remember. Her dark brown face was lined, her short hair graying, her eyes wise.
Guilt flooded Lindsay’s brain. She had zero business complaining to this woman, whose husband had left her high and dry with two kids and living in some nasty apartment in Lexington. Mama loved to tell that story, of how she’d single-handedly rescued her, and had paid her more than the going rate for house help ever since.
Lindsay knew Nellie held every single secret the Halloran family had ever thought about keeping. She opened her mouth to confide in her when her mother breezed in the side door, fresh from tennis, glowing with a light sheen of sweat. “I declare, it is hotter than Hades out there already. Nellie, is there any tea?”
“Yes ma’am,” the woman said, nudging Lindsay aside with her hip and reaching for a glass. “Go on outside,” she said under her breath. “Don’t let her see you just yet,” she whispered while Lindsay’s mother picked through the stack of mail on the dining room table.
Lindsay nodded and ducked outside, still holding the coffee mug. On reflex, she began walking toward the stable, noting that it was indeed very hot already. It did not help her headache in the slightest to be out here, trying to breathe the heavy, humid air. She could see the boarded horses out in the paddock, tails swishing flies, standing still under the shade trees that lined the fences.
Anton appeared at the second barn door opening, looking toward the animals, his cowboy hat on, a stalk of hay between his teeth.
Lindsay’s skin prickled. She cursed herself once more for putting him in danger of losing his job for no good reason. After a few minutes observing him from afar, noting a brief interaction with his brother, she squared her shoulders and marched down the hill. It was up to her to make this right, she knew. No reason to put it off. But first, she wanted to apologize to him.
As she was making her way down, keeping Anton’s now-slouched form in her line of sight, a car screeched to a halt close by. She stopped, realizing it had come from the front drive.
“Hey, you there!” Will’s voice hit her ears, making her heart beat faster. A door slammed, then another. “You, greaseball … yeah, I’m talkin’ to you.”
Lindsay whirled and saw her fiancé running across the side lawn, followed by his sidekick, Don. His face was flushed red, his hands curled into fists, as he barreled past her and skidded to a stop in front of Anton, who’d straightened slowly and pulled the hay out of his mouth.
“Will, stop it!” she shrieked when he hauled off and punched Anton in the face, then in the stomach.
Don grabbed Anton’s arms and pinned them behind him while Will wound up to hit him again. But Lindsay sped down the hill and jumped in between them, holding both hands out to stop him.
“Get out of my way, Red. This is between me and this goombah,” he growled at her. She didn’t move.
“You are acting like a full-on idiot, Will Scott. He didn’t do anything but get his shoes puked on.”
“You were too drunk to know what he did to you. Now move, or I’ll move you myself.”
Lindsay glared at him. They stood, frozen in their weird tableau for a few moments. A shout from the house made them all look up to see JR and Frank running down the hill. That made Will lower his fist fast, since it looked as if he was planning to punch her in the face.
“Let him go, Don,” JR said. Don did as he was told. JR was a hothead, and had about thirty pounds of pure muscle on both Don and Will. “Beat it.” Don scurried away. Lindsay remained standing between Will and Anton, who’d been utterly silent through the whole thing.
“Back off my sister, William,” Frank said, easing himself between Lindsay and her intended. “If you know what’s good for you, that is.”