I need to correct the chronology just a bit – the story starts in 1998, as I calculate Murdock to have been about thirty when he was taken out of that hospital in Mexico in 2002 (as per the film's chronology). Hope that makes sense. I was writing numbers and ages all over the place, figuring it out. Math, as you can tell, is NOT my strong suit. So…anyway, in 2011, Murdock would be about thirty-eight, and Anne about twenty-eight.
"We just don't have a choice, Daddy. We have to close the plantation down."
Harry glared at Anne, then looked across the table at Elizabeth, who rolled her eyes. "Surely you're joking."
"This isn't a joke," Anne said, trying to add an edge to her voice to indicate the seriousness of this situation. "It's becoming dangerous to live here. We've lost ten beeves so far, and the sheriff said it was definitely poison, and pretty soon, it won't be an old, rickety barn that gets burned down. It'll be the stables or…"
"We can certainly get a proper security firm out here," Harry said, taking a sip of his wine.
"And pay them with what?" Anne asked, exasperated. "You can't even pay the bills, Daddy."
Harry Elliot's expression grew even harder, and he pushed his plate away.
This family meeting had gone from bad to worse. Elizabeth was seated beside Harry, and shooting Anne looks that indicated her disgust with this entire conversation. The only two sensible people in the room were Anne's friend Lily Russell and the family's attorney, Mike Horsley.
Lily finally put her fork down and formed her words carefully. "Mr Elliott, I think you fail to grasp just how bad things are. There's no money left to cover anything but the barest necessities. You can't pay the farm workers, the property taxes are barely covered, there's a drought going on so that water prices are high as well. The cattle can't be fed anything other than maize. You're going to have to sell all or most of the horses…"
Anne sighed. Like the horses could be kept to work in the kitchen? That stung the most, selling them. Particularly her favorite riding horse, which she had been riding every summer since she'd turned sixteen, when she had received her as a gift. The mare was aging gracefully, but who would buy a seventeen-year old mare?
"And now, we've got someone threatening you unless you pay off that loan," Mike said. He cleared his throat. He reminded Anne a lot of Foghorn Leghorn, but unlike the cartoon rooster, he was a highly intelligent, sensible man. His courtroom tactics were grandiose and overblown, but he won for his clients more often than he lost, and he was a legend in East Texas. Fortunately, he was a good friend of the family and firmly refused to take payment for his services to them. Anne suspected that if it weren't for Mike, they would be even more broke than they were now. "It still amazes me, Harry, that you would take a loan from those people. Why you didn't consult me…"
"It was an excellent deal!" Harry said sharply, losing his temper for a moment. He reeled it back in and pursed his lips. "If things hadn't gone south so fast, we'd be in the black now."
Anne had to force herself to keep from rolling her eyes. Taking a loan from Spencer Hawes and his 'firm' was an 'excellent deal'? The man was a crook, and always had been, and crooks could always spot an easy mark. Harry Elliott was the easiest mark around, when it came to making bad deals and poor investments. She wished her mother were alive, for about the millionth time in the past twenty minutes. Charlotte Elliott had quietly taken over Harry's money and business dealings once they'd married, and even though she only had a high school education and a good deal of common sense, The Shallows had prospered with her in charge. Money hadn't piled around in stacks in the barn, but it had come in steadily and consistently, and Harry had let her take care of everything. Once she had died, however, Harry had taken the reins and drove the family finances to ruin in just a few short years. Since her mother's death, Anne couldn't remember a time when they had had enough to cover all the bills.
"So now you expect us all to pull up stakes and move into town?" Harry said.
"Not town, exactly. Courtville has no available places. Sweet Springs, maybe or…"
"Sweet Springs?" Harry looked appalled. "What sort of life would we have in Sweet Springs? There's nothing there!"
"Exactly, Daddy," Anne interjected there. "Nothing to spend money on. Mike found some very nice rental properties outside of Sweet Springs that are well within your price range. You and Elizabeth could both live there very comfortably, and so long as you keep expenses to a minimum, you might even enjoy yourself." She took a deep breath, waiting for his response.
Harry frowned at his youngest daughter. She could see that she had made just the right point, because for once he wasn't looking entirely displeased. "I suppose we could live fairly well there."
"Daddy!" Elizabeth said, looking horrified. "Surely you can't…"
"Anne has already contacted two possibly rental owners, and they would be ready to negotiate at your convenience," Mike said, cutting Elizabeth off.
"Anne has?" Harry took the papers from Mike and read them over.
"Sweet Springs is only ten miles from here," Anne told her father. "You and Elizabeth can go directly there once you strike a deal to rent one of those places. The houses are large, and Mike and Lily have both helped me draw up a budget – living expenses, spending money, and so on. I'll stay here and close up the plantation and make sure the house is in order. Once that's done, the money that would have had to be spent on this place could go into an account in the bank that either of you could use…" There was a scary thought, Anne thought. Giving money to her father and sister was likely giving whiskey and car keys to teenaged boys.
"To a certain degree," Mike nodded. He looked at Anne, raising an eyebrow, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
"You would stay here?" Harry asked. "Yes, that would be a good idea."
Anne figured it would be a good idea to not even attempt to live with them. But how long could she even stay in Texas? She had her work in New York, and just getting away for a few weeks required a lot of moving things around and upsetting a lot of people. All this had to happen just as she was getting ready for the debut of her spring designs during Fashion Week, and in another two weeks she was supposed to have been in Paris. That might all end up being scrapped entirely, because of this awful nightmare her father had gotten them into.
She was honest enough with herself to recognize that she would rather spent the day stroking the egos of petulant designers, temperamental models and shrieking fashion critics than her father and her sister, but like it or not, family was family, and The Shallows was still home.
"All right then," Lily said. "So we can assume the matter is settled?"
"I don't like it," Elizabeth said, pouting. "I was going to go to Neiman-Marcus next week, and now I have to pack up and head south instead of to Dallas! This is all your fault, Anne!"
Anne bit back a retort. Lily's expression hardened.
"How much did you spend last time you were in Dallas, Elizabeth?" Lily asked mildly.
"I don't know…the new winter lines were out!"
Anne got up, murmuring a soft 'excuse me' and left – she had given up on Elizabeth a long time ago, and was not going to get into another verbal sparring match with her. Out in the hallway, she looked briefly at herself in the mirror and shook her head, seeing that she certainly wasn't getting any younger – she would be twenty-eight next month.
She decided then that she would not stay at The Shallows during this visit home. She would go visit Marie at the AX Ranch and try to find some means of relaxing at least a little. It would give her time to think and make some plans.
She was going to have to make decisions now, without the interference of her father and sister, about the future of The Shallows. She would never allow the plantation to be sold, of course, but there had to be some way of changing it from a cash-drain to a cash-cow. She needed some solitude to think. Marie was whiney and self-centered, but the AX was a peaceful place, and if her sister got too annoying, she could go visit Charlie's parents at their ranch next door.
She went upstairs and into her old bedroom – it had not been changed since she'd left home, she noted. Same pale blue walls and white accents. Same Battenberg lace curtains and white-painted hardwood floors; same blue and yellow French quilt on the bed. A set of French doors opened onto the gallery that looked out over the front of the property, which expanded all the way to the road beyond. She could see the line of willows along Court Creek. On the other side of the creek was the Murdock property – a sprawling farm that was now owned by Alan and Matthew Murdock. Their middle brother, David, was an architect and lived in Austin. James was…
Anne squeezed her eyes shut and sat down on her bed. She clasped her hands together and thought of him again. Of all the things they had talked about, and the time they had spent together, in secret. Of the scent of his cologne and his crooked smile and beautiful green eyes. Of her regrets…
She got up and went to the old hope chest at the foot of her bed, removing the wedding ring quilt she had inherited from her grandmother, and carefully opened the box, removing other old quilts and show ribbons, her stuffed teddy bear and the old dolls she had played with as a girl, and searched for a moment until she found the letters. They were tied together with a piece of blue silk ribbon, and she fingered them cautiously, as if expecting them to grow fangs and attack her. In fact, even after nine years, they could still inflict the worst pain she would ever know.
"I was thinking about buying a nice chiffon dress and high-heeled shoes. Throw in a tiara and we'll make a deal."
Anne looked up from her sketchbook, where she had been 'free-style' designing of a new idea, and was startled to see James Murdock standing there. How had he gotten in without the bells on the doorknob jingling? She looked around the store, which was empty. Miss Marnie was in the back office, going over figures, and the other two salesgirls were out to lunch. She had been left behind to mind the counter until they returned.
"I don't think you'd look good in a dress," she said. "But we can certainly try. I think you'd look good in…green?"
"I'd look like a swamp frog. An ugly swamp frog."
"Is there any other kind?"
He grinned. "I'm actually in here lookin' for somethin' to give Eve for her birthday."
"I don't think she'd like a chiffon dress and heels." Anne closed her sketchbook. "She seems far too sensible far that, but we have some very nice jewelry and scarves."
"She hates scarves and doesn't go much for jewelry. Doesn't even wear makeup. I never understood scarves, anyway, at least not for women 'round here. It's hot enough. Why make it even worse?"
"How about shoes?" Anne asked.
"I don't know her size."
Anne eyed him warily. "So do you have any idea what she'd like?"
"Er…gardening clogs?"
"There's no such thing as fashion garden clogs."
"Really? I read about some woman in New York who designed clothes out of garbage. Garden clogs are a few steps above that, I should think."
"Well, you won't find fashion clogs here," Anne said, feeling a little desperate now, as if the energy in the room was being drawn in by him. Her own energy was being pulled toward him, too, and she didn't know how to handle that at all. It was odd – he wasn't a large man. In fact, he was lean and just barely six feet in height, yet he seemed too big for indoor spaces. His hair was windblown and never seemed to be combed, and he had a tan from a life spent outdoors in the sun.
"This is a clothes boutique. We sell clothes, shoes, jewelry, handbags…"
"There you go! Handbags…pocketbooks, purses, whatever. Lemme look at them. She likes pink."
"Pink?"
"Mm." He nodded. "Are you goin' walkin' by the river tonight?"
"No. I'm…I'm going to the movie with Alan and some friends, and then…uh…the café."
"Right. Right." He nodded, shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Good. You two seem…uh…pretty compatible."
"He's nice," she nodded. Just nice. Alan was really very sweet, and kind, and she genuinely liked him. There wasn't a mean bone in his body, or a single drop of guile. He was very respectful toward her…toward everybody, actually. The Murdock men were all like that, really. Only James, however, had a streak of wildness about him. Not that the others were boring, but they didn't seem to possess James's free spirit. Anne had long ago concluded that there were two types of personality types in people – they were either like cows or like horses. Some people were like cows: very docile and calm, standing around, being polite, and chewing. Others, like James, were constantly moving, full of energy, ready to explode even in repose. She wished that she were a bit more horselike. She was almost sixteen and had never rebelled against anything or anyone in her life. She had never even taken a pen home from the boutique, because it didn't belong to her. Her father described her as a 'good, well-behaved girl'. A goody-two shoes. Boring.
"Right. He's a good kid."
A strangely comfortable silence settled between them, and their gazes locked. His eyes were green – almost emerald colored, but touched with flecks of gold, and she was mesmerized by them. Finally, he seemed to jerk himself out of his thoughts. "I'm goin' back to base in a few days. Got my orders last night – vacation's been cut short."
"Oh…oh, yes…I'm sorry to hear that."
He frowned, and chewed on his lip a moment, thinking. "I reckon I'll be goin' to someplace in the Middle East. Or maybe South America. Or Jupiter. God knows where, really."
She smiled at his half-hearted joke and gestured awkward toward the purse display by the front window of the boutique. "The purses…we…we're having a sale, actually. Fif-fifteen percent off. The new spring lines will be in soon and…and so we're getting rid of as much older stock as we can."
"Right." He followed her to the display and pondered the purses in silence, hands on his hips. "That one'll do, I think." He snatched up a magenta-pink purse with a gold clasp and handed it to her. Their fingers touched and Anne's cheeks flamed as she took it. She rushed to the cash register and for a moment stared at the machine, unable to remember how it operated, or how to scan the item, or where she was or what her name was. She glanced up and saw he was still standing by the purses, watching her, an odd expression on his face, one eyebrow raised. Finally, she managed to get her fevered mind to work again and rang up the sale.
"That's sixty-five sixty."
"Sixty-five sixty for a purse? What's it got in it, the film showing who really killed Kennedy?"
"I don't determine the prices."
"And that's after the fifteen-percent reduction?"
"Yes," she said desperately. The cash register said that, didn't it? She looked wildly at the screen and nodded. "Yes."
"Right. Okay. At least I'm on an officer's pay grade now." He dug out his wallet and extracted his credit card. "No military discount?"
She shook her head. "No…sorry…"
He grinned at her and watched as she rang up the sale and shoved the purse into a bag. She handed the card back to him, with the sales slip and a pen to sign the store copy.
"You're in…what, the tenth grade?"
She nodded.
"Turnin' sixteen soon, huh?"
"Yes. In…in two weeks."
"October…?"
"Tenth."
He signed the slip and handed the pen to her again. She tried to take it, but he wouldn't let go. "Maybe I'll send you a birthday card, from wherever I am."
"I…um…that would be…nice," she stammered.
"Ever been anywhere further south than Sweet Springs?"
"I've been to Dallas…and Beaumont, and Houston…"
"Port Arthur? And Saratoga?" He grinned. "Seen the light up there?"
"The Bragg Road ghost light? No."
"You oughtta go see it. It's quite a show. It either gives ya the willies or it gives you a thrill. Either way, there's a rare local kid 'round here that hasn't experienced it."
"I don't generally go for…for thrills."
"What's life without a thrill?" he asked her, lowering his voice a little. "It's only five miles away, y'know. A hop, skip an' a jump. You could walk."
"I would never go alone…particularly on foot!" she said, knowing she was the poster child for fraidycats. She finally tugged the pen away from, avoiding touching him again.
"I could take you."
The bell on the door jingled as a customer came in. Anne, flustered and discombobulated, rushed around to properly greet the woman, who stood there, startled to see the rather scruffy looking man at the counter. He nonetheless gave the customer a cheeky grin and turned to leave, carrying his present for his stepmother. He glanced back at Anne, who was trying to concentrate on what the woman was telling her she wanted to find, and caught her eye. It was only when she looked so stricken and embarrassed that his smile faded away and made an apologetic gesture, and with that, he turned and left, taking his energy with him and making her feel strangely empty inside.
"Anne?" Lily Russell came into her room and gently shut the door behind her. Anne stood up, straightening her clothes and quickly shoving the letters back into the box.
"Yes. I was…um…just thinking a little. What we should do about this place. It's so strange to be home…it doesn't feel the same."
"I actually have an idea. I haven't talked to Mike about it, much less your father, but I think it would be an excellent means of bringing money into the estate. I wanted to run the idea by you first, though."
"Right…right." Lily always seemed to have answers. She had had the answers nine years ago, hadn't she? She had known exactly what should be done, and what should be said.
"Well, I thinking that this place would make an excellent bed and breakfast. Just a few minor modifications and upgrades, and you'd be turning a profit in about two years. Of course, it would be a hard slog at first, and…"
"Daddy would never hear of such a thing." Anne banged the hope chest shut and locked it. She had never shown the letters to Lily. Or anyone else, for that matter. She had memorized every line, run her fingers over every word he had written to her as she had prayed for his safety. She had grieved over his troubles and his successes…particularly when he was finally taken out of that hospital in Mexico and given a new life. But she had only heard about that through the town's grapevine, which was the envy of Ernest and Julio Gallo. He had not written to her at all in the past nine years, nor had he come back to Courtville, except for his father's funeral, and she had been in New York then.
Anne doubted she would ever see him again.
"Anne…" Lily said, seeing her troubled expression.
"Lily, I know you always wanted the best for me, and that you always tried to guide me right, but…but I still think…I still wonder if…how it would have been…"
The other woman frowned, knowing what was coming. She was a strong-willed woman: a successful interior designer, and was just starting to make a name for herself, just like Anne. She and Anne had become friends years ago, when they discovered they had mutual interests in art and design, besides genuinely enjoying each others company. Lily had always felt obligated to protect Anne, who even now, after years in New York and working in the fashion industry, traveling around the world and enjoying more and more success, remained astonishingly innocent.
"Anne, you were nineteen. He was…unstable. In the military, going from base to base around the world, and had little money…but the instability was the most worrying thing. If you had taken that path, you would be living hand-to-mouth, living at dreary posts, while he was either off somewhere being shot at or worse, or staying in those facilities…leaving behind your own dreams…"
Anne turned away, hiding her tears. "He was my dream," Anne whispered, so softly that Lily couldn't hear. She scraped her raw emotions back together and turned back to face her friend, knowing she had only been trying to help her. She smiled softly. "I suppose I should get started with packing, hm?"
