Chris said. He tried hard to sound casual, but this was his mother and she knew him better than anyone else in the world.
“Is that wise?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. But it will definitely be fun. She’s changed.”
“I heard about the accident,” Maggie said.
“What happened?” Chris asked as he pulled a chair up close to his mom’s bed. She had the same thick blondish hair he did, but she wore hers straight. It hung around her pretty face in a fashionable style. Her eyes were blue like his, but she had a pert little nose and a full bow mouth.
“It was all over the news. Her little BMW convertible was hit from behind in traffic and her car slammed into an eighteen-wheeler. The car was engulfed in flames. She’s lucky to be alive. But horribly scarred. At least that’s what I heard down at the Royal Diner.”
“That place is a hotbed for gossip, but it doesn’t mean that any of that is true,” Chris said. The diner had the best greasy food in West Texas, but some of the stories to come out of there weren’t always the whole truth.
“It was real enough. She had to move back in with Harrison and has spent the past few years having a series of surgeries. It was heartbreaking, Chris, to see that pretty girl in bandages. She couldn’t walk for the first six months.”
Chris felt weak in the stomach at the thought of Macy in so much pain. He shook his head. “She seems much better now.”
“I think she is,” Maggie said. “But what about you? Tell me about your work with the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
“There isn’t much to tell right now, Mom. I’m going to meet with Brad Price and then start working on my bid to develop and build a new headquarters for the Cattleman’s Club. I have a basic idea of what they want, but that’s it.”
“Are you going out there today?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, I am. I’ve been granted full privileges to the club while I’m working on the project.”
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
“With you. I think you might need someone at home with you when you get out of the hospital. Plus, the doctors still can’t figure out why you have these episodes,” he said with a grin.
“Good. You don’t have to stay with me, but I’m glad for the company. I miss you, Chris.”
He stood up and smiled down at his mom. Her face so familiar and dear to him, he brushed a kiss over her forehead and then tucked the covers more closely around her body. “I’ve missed you too, Mom.”
He chatted with her for a few more minutes but then had to leave. He was due to meet Brad. Brad was determined to be the next president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club and, given his background as the son of one of Royal’s banking families, most people thought he was a shoo-in to win. Chris wanted to take a look at the existing buildings and the property so he knew exactly what he was working with on this project. Everyone who’d grown up in Royal was aware of the club, but Chris wanted to get up to speed on the details of the property.
“I’ll stop by tonight before my dinner date,” he said to his mom.
“Perfect. Good luck with your business,” Maggie said.
Chris left with the impression that his mother had no idea how successful he was at what he did. But that didn’t bother him. He was really only interested in making sure that Macy and Harrison knew how successful he was. And before he went back to Dallas, the Reynoldses definitely would.
As soon as he stepped out of the hospital he was reminded it was August in West Texas and hot as Hades. He loosened his tie and pulled out a pair of sunglasses and hit the remote start button on his Range Rover HSE. He was having his Porsche transported to Royal so he could use that while he was in town.
He wanted the locals to know that Chris Richardson was back and he had plenty of money this time. He may not be a full-fledged member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, but he took a lot of pride in knowing that he had enough money in his bank accounts to be one if he pushed.
He wondered what kind of car Macy drove. He should have asked a few more questions about her accident. It was hard for him to imagine the girl he’d known, who’d lived a decidedly charmed life, having to go through that kind of painful recovery. But then life seldom turned out the way that most people thought it would. Chris had proved that by making a success of himself in the same field as Harrison Reynolds. And tonight he’d be sitting in the dining room of the Texas Cattleman’s Club with Macy. Life was sweet.
Macy couldn’t stop looking at herself in the mirror and she knew that was a recipe for disaster, so she forced herself away from it and back to her computer. She had a lot of work to get done before her dinner with Chris.
Chris Richardson. Dang, she’d never expected to see him again. She wished she could say that the years hadn’t been good to him, but they had. If he’d developed a beer belly and lost some of his hair maybe she wouldn’t be quivering in anticipation waiting for six-thirty to roll around.
The doorbell rang and Macy sat up a little straighter, leaving her home office. She heard Jessie, her dad’s housekeeper, talking to someone. Macy rose from her chair, and went out into the hallway. She smiled at Abigail Langley.
Abby and Macy went way back to high school, but they had really become closer after Macy’s accident when Abby had become her rock. Then last year, unexpectedly, Abby’s husband had died of a brain aneurysm and Macy had had a chance to return the favor.
Abby had long wavy red hair and bright blue eyes. She was pretty and tall and walked into the room as if she owned it. Macy envied her friend that confidence. She’d thought the surgeries that restored her looks and her ability to walk would be enough, but this afternoon she’d realized they weren’t.
“Hi, there, Abby,” Macy said.
“Hello, gorgeous! You look wonderful. No need to ask how the doctor’s appointment went.”
Macy flushed. “I still don’t look like me.”
Abby wrapped her arm around Macy’s shoulder. “Yes, you do. This is the new you.”
“You are right. So … guess who I ran into at the hospital?” Macy asked as she led Abby into the den. The room was richly appointed with deep walnut paneling and oversize leather couches and chairs. This was where her father hosted football parties for his college buddies and where, when Macy had turned sixteen, she’d hosted her first boy-girl party.
On the wall was a portrait of her that her father had commissioned when she was eighteen, and Macy took a seat that deliberately kept her back to the picture. She hated looking at old pictures of herself. She didn’t like being reminded of who she used to be.
“Christopher Richardson,” Abby said with a twinkle in her eye.
“How did you know?”
“I have my sources. What did he say?”
“Nothing much. We’re going to dinner tonight so I can catch him up on all the gossip about the club. He’s in town to consult on developing the new clubhouse.”
“Well,
