in the Bahamas.
Oh, yeah, a part of him would love to rub Maddie Delarue’s nose in his success. Of all the people back home, she was the only one he really wanted to impress. She was probably married now, with a couple of kids. Surely she hadn’t married Jimmy Don Newman, Dylan thought.
Since her father’s death a few years ago, she was now the richest woman in Texas. Dylan chuckled. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t be that impressed with him after all.
Grinning, Dylan sipped on his whisky. Even after several days of mulling over the entire matter, he still found it difficult to believe that his father had called him. Out of the blue, after all this time, Judge Carl Bridges had set aside his unswerving pride and telephoned his only child.
“Son, I’m asking you to forgive me,” Carl had said. “Can you find it in your heart to give your father a second chance? Is there any hope that we can put the past behind us and build a new relationship?”
Strange that he hadn’t vented years of frustration and rage directly at his father. Even stranger was the fact that he, too, wanted nothing more than to put the past to rest, to reach out and forge a new relationship with his father. As a man of experience, he now realized what a rebellious hellion he’d been as a teenager, and how both he and his father had allowed their grief over Leda Bridges’ death to separate them instead of bring them closer together. Yes, his father had made mistakes, had concentrated on his career more than his son, had given Dylan no room for failure. But Dylan knew that he had made a lot of mistakes himself, that he’d acted up time and again hoping to get his father’s attention.
If staunch, unyielding Carl Bridges could admit mistakes and ask for forgiveness, then so could his son.
Dylan had ended his conversation with his father by saying, “Yeah, Dad, I’ll think about coming to Mission Creek for a visit. I just need some time to get used to the idea.”
This morning when he awoke, he decided right then, even before his first cup of coffee, that there was no better time than the present to find out if his dad and he could reconnect as father and son. Besides, he needed a vacation. He worked too much; even his closest friends told him he’d become a workaholic. But despite his wealth and great success, he didn’t have anything else in his life that truly mattered. Only work.
Long ago, he’d come to the conclusion that a guy couldn’t count on anyone or anything except himself. Family was a bogus term. He felt as if he’d lost his only family when his mother died. The desire to marry and start a family of his own had eluded him, mainly because he’d never met a woman he thought he could spend the rest of his life with—never loved or trusted a woman enough to make a serious commitment.
He supposed he should call his father and apprise him of his plans, but he liked the idea of just showing up on his dad’s doorstep and surprising him. He’d already gotten a reservation on a flight to Mission Ridge, the nearest airport to his hometown. He’d be home in time for supper. Maybe he’d take his dad to the country club, to the Empire Room. Now, wouldn’t that be something—to go back to the Lone Star Country Club as a guest instead of an employee.
And who knew, maybe if things worked out with his father, he might even relocate to Mission Creek.
“Mrs. Delarue, please stop.” Alicia Lewis jumped up from behind her desk in Maddie Delarue’s private office space in the Lone Star Country Club and rushed forward toward her boss’s mother. “Maddie is very busy and I’m not supposed to let anyone disturb her.”
“Well, my dear young woman, I’m Maddie’s mother and I can assure you that I’m not just anyone.” Over the years Nadine Delarue had perfected the royal put-down. “My daughter’s position as the events manager here at the club is nothing more than a hobby for her anyway, so she can’t possibly be that busy.”
Hearing the ruckus outside her office, Maddie groaned. Oh, Lord, just what she needed this afternoon—dealing with her self-pitying, hypochondriacal mother. For the past sixteen years, ever since her parents’ widely publicized, bloody divorce and her father’s death a few years back, Nadine had clung to Maddie with a tenacious stranglehold. Only by sheer force of will had Maddie been able to live her own life. But her life was often interrupted by her mother’s histrionics. Maddie did her best to be the dutiful daughter, but there were times when the burden became almost too much for her to bear.
When Maddie opened the office door, she found Alicia standing there blocking Nadine’s path. The moment her mother saw her, she burst into tears.
“This awful girl wouldn’t let me see you.” Nadine hiccuped. “And I told her that I was your mother.”
Oh, great, her mother was tipsy. “It’s all right, Alicia.” Maddie patted her assistant’s shoulder. Alicia was new on the job, so this was her first encounter with Nadine the Terminator. When the bewildered young brunette stepped aside, Nadine flung herself at Maddie, who wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulders and led her into her office. “Have you had anything to eat today? You seem a little unsteady.”
As Maddie closed her office door, her mother wiped her eyes and sniffed several times. “I had lunch with the girls here at the club,” Nadine said.
“I see.” Lunch had undoubtedly consisted of several martinis. “I don’t mean to rush you, Mother, but I am very busy this afternoon. The Mystery Gala at the club is this weekend and I have a zillion loose ends to tie up. Is this something that could wait?”
Nadine slumped down on the sofa, upholstered in a beige-and-white striped silk. Maddie groaned internally. No way was Nadine going to let her get off so easily.
“You’re always too busy for me.”
Nadine stroked the soft waves of fine white-blond hair that lay close to her face in an attractive, modern style that her hairdresser had assured her took years off her appearance. But not nearly as many years as her most recent facelift, Maddie thought. Since the day her husband had walked out on her, left her for a much younger woman, Nadine had been obsessed with staying young. After the divorce, she’d gone through a succession of suitors half her age, but was left high and dry by each one when they realized that her divorce from billionaire Jock Delarue had not gained her half his net worth. Grandfather Delarue had been a smart old buzzard; he’d insisted Nadine sign a prenuptial agreement before she wed his only son, something not standard procedure in the mid-sixties.
“I’m sorry, Mother. Really I am. But I do have a job, you know. Responsibilities. People counting on me.” Maddie eased her behind down on the edge of her elaborately carved, antique mahogany desk.
“I’m counting on you, Maddie. You’re all I have in this world.”
Oh, here we go again, Maddie thought. I’m all alone. No one needs me. No one loves me. I gave birth to you. An excruciating labor. You were a colicky baby. My every thought since the day you were born has been of you. She’d heard it all before—ad nauseam.
“What do you want? What can I do for you today?” Maddie focused her attention directly on her mother.
“I—I…well, I’m not sure. It’s just that the others, my friends…well, they were all going home to husbands. And you know that I don’t have a man in my life. And they all have grandchildren to dote on. I’d think the least you could do is give me a grandchild.”
“I’d like nothing better, and maybe someday I’ll—”
“Why must you work here? Why do you bother with such a mundane
