Kitabı oku: «Ultimatum: Marriage / For the Sake of the Secret Child», sayfa 5

Seven

Alicia woke the next morning feeling stronger—until she caught the thick scent of boudin sausage, frying eggs and steaming chicory-flavored coffee wafting out of the air-conditioning vent.

Obviously Jake had come home. Smiling because she was glad he was home, she sat up. At that slight movement her stomach became hollow and her mouth was suddenly too dry for her to swallow. Throwing her sheets aside, she rushed for the bathroom, intending to splash cold water on her face.

In her haste, she slammed into a low table. The china teacup and saucer she’d forgotten to return to the kitchen last night shattered on the oak floor. With a little cry, she kept running.

After bathing her face, the nausea gradually passed.

Last night to cheer herself up she’d watched a couple of comedies on television, which had eased her depression and caused her to laugh until she’d nearly cried. She’d fallen asleep feeling more hopeful about the future.

At the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing and heavy, male footsteps approaching, she turned slowly.

“Jake?”

“Who else? Are you all right?” he rumbled in his deep, insistent voice.

“Just a touch of morning sickness, but I’m fine. Or at least I will be … soon,” she whispered. “Give me a minute. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Are you naked again?” He sounded hopeful.

“You would think of that.”

“I’m a man. You’re a beautiful woman, who’s now my wife. A woman I have a sexual history with. Of course I imagine you naked. All the time.”

“Beautiful? I haven’t brushed my hair and I’ve got mascara smudged under my eyes.” She groaned.

“I was just trying to make you forget how rotten you feel.”

“Just go away.”

Then he was there beside her with the disloyal Gus Dear close at his heels. The feline devil had the gall to purr as his black tail curled around Jake’s legs and then hers.

“Please leave me—both of you,” she begged even as Jake’s hand against her back and Gus’s silky tail raised goose bumps. “I’ll be okay. Really! Go eat your sausage … and give Gus some tuna or something. Oh, God, tuna!” At the thought of tuna, she fought to swallow.

“So it was the smell of our breakfast that made you feel sick.”

“Partly, but I just wake up that way a lot of mornings.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone last night.”

Jake turned on the faucet, wet a rag and then shut it off. His arms circled her waist gently and he bathed her warm face and lips with a cool rag while Gus’s intent yellow eyes watched them both.

“How did you even know I felt queasy?”

“I heard a sound and wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Probably the cup I broke when I ran in here. I’m sorry—”

“Forget it. I’ll sweep it up in a minute.”

“You must have been very late last night,” she said, finally looking up at him. Where was her pride? Why had she admitted she’d even noticed the hour?

His icy blue eyes were shadowed, with exhaustion she thought, and his dark face looked ravaged.

“Yes, I was late. Your light was out. I didn’t think you heard me come in.”

She wasn’t about to admit that she hadn’t, even though after her comedies she’d lain alone in the dark for hours listening to every sound the mansion had made. How had she missed his return?

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said.

Not for the first time she wondered why he had insisted that they live together if her mere presence was such a torture to him he couldn’t stand to be in the same house with her.

“I didn’t get much sleep because your cat insisted on sleeping with me.”

“You should have locked him out then.”

“I did, but he yowled and scratched at my door until I let him back in. Then he lay on top of me purring for the rest of the night.”

“I tried to coax him downstairs to sleep with me earlier but I’m afraid he insisted on lying in wait for you outside your door.”

“Stubborn creatures, cats,” Jake said.

“Disloyal!” she snapped.

“They know what they want, and they never give up.”

Jake’s hard glance sought her face and then raked her body, causing confused emotions to course through her. Then he smiled. “I have a feeling he’s going to make a real nuisance of himself while we’re married. Funny thing—I sort of enjoyed his company last night. I didn’t feel like sleeping alone.”

If Gus was winning him so easily maybe there was a chance for her ….

A chance for what, you fool? This isn’t a real marriage. Jake’s lost lots of money and his reputation is in shreds. He blames you. Daddy’s been indicted because of him. You can’t forget any of that—ever!

And yet people dealt with crises and moved on, didn’t they?

“I’m all right now, so you can go,” she whispered, struggling to stand.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

The warmth of his hands lingered so caressingly on her arms that she was almost seduced into allowing herself the pleasure of his touch. Then she remembered how he’d cut her at their wedding and left her alone all last night. Shakily, she drew herself up taller and pushed his hands away.

“I know you don’t like me,” she said.

“Is this your perverse way of seeking a compliment?”

“No! Of course not!”

“I think it is, so I’ll have to dream one up.” He scratched his dark head.

If she didn’t know better, she would have thought his quick smile endearingly tender.

“You make it sound like that’s very difficult to do.”

His hand touched the back of her waist gently and then brushed her fingertips. “Not so difficult as you might think. It’s impossible to hate you, cher … knowing that you are carrying my child,” he murmured.

He squeezed her hand. “You were very beautiful yesterday. Okay. Enough compliments.” Then he threw his dark head back and laughed. “Be a good girl. It’s early. Quit looking for trouble. Take a shower and comb your hair. You’ll feel better, and maybe you won’t be so set on bringing out the worst in me—which is fairly easy for you to do—as I’m sure you know.”

Thirty minutes later a freshly showered Alicia walked into the kitchen and was surprised to find her husband sprawled at the table in crisp, pressed jeans and a white shirt, looking much too relaxed and handsome with his cup of coffee as he read the paper.

He’d eaten, washed his dishes and cooking utensils and put them away. So why was her husband, who preferred to avoid her, still hanging out in his tidy kitchen? Surely he wasn’t eagerly waiting for his temporary bride to appear.

Sunshine streamed through the windows, filling the mostly white room with golden light. He looked so content with his dark head bent over his paper, for a second she could almost forget how angrily he’d loomed beside her at their wedding yesterday before vanishing on their wedding night. She could almost imagine herself a happy bride.

Then their reality slammed her anew. He was her sworn enemy. Kindness from him was not to be counted on or treasured. It was to be distrusted. Thus, when he looked up at her with an amiable smile on his dark face, she frowned.

“What?” He sat up straighter and finger-combed his dark hair. “Am I guilty of some awful new crime or do I just have a crumb on my lip? Or nose?”

As he brushed his mouth and nose with his napkin, she laughed in spite of herself.

“No.”

“You want me gone so you can have the kitchen to yourself? Well, I won’t be bullied out of my own house.”

“I assumed you’d be at the office, avoiding me again … like last night,” she said.

“Right,” he said, “we’re the weirdo newlyweds who did some very interesting variations on sex—positions that are probably still illegal in some states—on this very table, but now we are supposed to have an aversion to sex.”

Maybe because he was so preoccupied with sex or the lack of it, she remembered lying naked on the kitchen table in this very room, crying out his name in the heat of her passion. She’d loved him that night, incoherently. With his every touch, with every flick of his tongue, he’d awakened a fire inside her she hadn’t known existed, and the embers of that fire still hadn’t gone out.

As he stared at the table, she began to sizzle.

Sensing an advantage when she blushed, he moved his hand back and forth across the smooth finish of the tabletop in the way he might stroke a woman. “You know you could change your mind about that. I won’t object.”

“But you don’t even like me.”

“I’m a man.” He ran his hand along the tabletop again, caressing it. “I can compartmentalize. Let’s just say my body likes yours, and it wonders … upon occasion … rather frequently—hell, all the time—how yours feels about mine. If you want the truth, I don’t think I slept a wink last night. I kept thinking of you in your bed and me upstairs sleeping with a cat.”

She moved to set a kettle boiling on the stove. “You make us sound like we’re no better than animals.”

“You’re in my house, cute as hell … available. I wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t tempt me.”

“Even though you hate my father?”

“He isn’t here. With any luck he’ll be sent to a place where he can’t hurt any more people.”

Fortunately, the tea kettle whistled. With hands that shook she pulled an egg out of the fridge and placed it in the middle of a pot. As she poured boiling water over it, the egg cracked. She set the pot on the stove top anyway. She was almost glad he’d reminded her of her father’s plight and the satisfaction he took in it. The knowledge helped her build up her defenses.

“I’m just being honest,” he said. “There’s a bit of the wild in us all. Why else do we have to spend years and years civilizing our young? Why else did we behave like we did that night? On this very table?”

“Stop ….”

“You brought out the beast. I think you liked it, too. In fact, I know you did.”

She wet her lips with her tongue and was too aware of his avid eyes glued to her moist lips. For six weeks she’d been a virtual prisoner in her apartment, hated by all. Loneliness and the desire for companionship had built into an almost palpable need. If he stuck around in the same room where she’d been so crazy to have him, saying he wanted her, she wasn’t sure how well she’d control her attraction for him.

“Can we please please change the subject?” she pleaded.

Newspapers rustled as he set his paper aside. “You mean … from sex?” he murmured thickly.

Afraid he’d see her flushed cheeks again and understand just how much he affected her, she kept her back to him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he muttered. “Sure. Hey, here’s some good news for you that has nothing to do with sex. Nowhere in this newspaper did I see any mention of our marriage. Looks like we’re still flying under the radar. When people find out, I’ll be bombarded at the office. No telling who else will fire me.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your life. If you’ve finished your own breakfast, you don’t have to stay here just to entertain me, you know,” she whispered.

“I wanted to discuss a few more things—other than sex.”

The word sent more tingles through her. “Grrrr.”

He laughed. “I think you’re running as hot as I am. Maybe hotter.”

“What things did you want to discuss?” she said through gritted teeth, too hatefully aware of her heart racing.

“For starters, tomorrow I want to make some financial arrangements for you. Open a new account you can sign on, so you won’t feel so dependent on me.”

“Why would you do that when I imagine you want revenge for all those crimes you believe my father and I committed against you?”

“I didn’t dream up what you or your father did, so I’m under no illusions about your character. Or his. Especially his. But like you pointed out, you have no money or allies. You’re my wife and you’re carrying my baby. You need to buy things for yourself and our baby.”

“I couldn’t possibly accept—”

“Anything from me—the enemy.” His lips had tightened. “I’m afraid you’ll have to. What choice do either of us have? Much as I might want to treat you like a pauper, it would make me look bad. Much as you want to treat me as the enemy, you have no one else who cares as much as I do.

“Our baby needs a nursery. Supplies. A baby bed. God only knows what else. Am I right?”

She sighed. “I do want to create a charming nursery. I guess since I always had money, I never thought much about it. My job as an editor didn’t pay much, but it didn’t matter. I loved writing and editing, and I could rely on the trust fund money. So, now that the money’s all gone, I’ve got to get used to a new way of living. And thinking. I’ll need to think about a career.”

“True. But not now. Until the baby’s born, I’m going to take care of you. And the baby. That’s final.”

“Do your people always do what you say, when you say?”

“You’re my wife. My broke, pregnant wife. You’re my responsibility. You don’t have a choice. Why is that so difficult for you to grasp?”

“Maybe because ours is the last thing from a real marriage.”

“Right. So, let’s be sure and make ourselves just as miserable as we can at every possible opportunity. Is that your goal?”

No, this morning she just wanted to stay out of his arms … and his bed. His talking about sex had stirred her up.

Jake grabbed his paper and stood up.

Good. She wanted him gone, needed him gone. The sooner, the better. His kindness and concern for her this morning mixed with his sexiness unnerved her. She, who always read too much into kindnesses and into making love, didn’t want to soften toward him.

It wouldn’t be just sex for her as it would be for him. She would weave all sorts of interlocking emotions around an act that meant next to nothing to him, and each time she went to bed with him, her feelings for him would deepen. Pretty soon she’d be thinking they had a real relationship. He would be thinking she was easy and very replaceable the minute their baby was born. She would be thinking he would become a real husband and father.

Theirs was a marriage of convenience. She was living with him for the baby’s sake, so he might grow attached to it even before it was born.

For her own emotional safety, she had to keep her distance.

But could she?

Eight

By eight o’clock Monday morning, everybody who was anybody in New Orleans knew Jake Claiborne had married Alicia Butler. Their enemies, and they had legions, viewed their match with immense suspicion, just as Jake had known they would. Like vultures circling, the boldest and meanest were the first to pounce and tear off their pound of flesh.

No sooner was Jake in his building and striding down the hall toward Vanessa’s office with his briefcase, than he heard his phones buzzing. Vanessa would answer one, quickly and efficiently, put the caller on hold and catch the next.

Then Jake walked into her office. Swiveling in her chair, Vanessa frowned and cupped the phone, waving him over with a swift motion.

“It’s Coulter, the city manager. Line two. Third time he’s called. Says it’s urgent. I’ve got Davis on one.”

Blake Davis was a heavy donor for Houses for Hurricane Victims.

“He sounds really annoyed,” she said. “He isn’t the only one. The phones have been ringing off the wall.” She handed him a list of names and phone numbers.

Jake had expected trouble, and he was prepared to deal with it. Under no circumstances would he have even considered abandoning Alicia and their newborn baby. In time, the trouble would blow over.

“I’ll take them in my office.”

Without preamble Coulter told Jake he’d learned about his marriage to Miss Butler from concerned taxpayers, so he was afraid he was going to have to hire a new architect to finish the concert hall near the French Quarter.

“Sorry, Claiborne, I know she’s not her father, but with her last name and his close association to you through Houses for Hurricane Victims, there’d be too much political fallout if we didn’t terminate our relationship with you. We can’t have any taint of scandal on this public project, especially after Katrina.”

Jake picked up line one next.

“I was very disappointed by the news of your marriage to Mitchell Butler’s daughter,” Blake Davis said. “Very disappointed. Until this, I told myself you weren’t involved in all that money disappearing. Needless to say, your marrying Butler’s daughter would give even a naïve fool second thoughts. I’d look like an idiot if I didn’t bail, damn it.”

Before Jake could defend Alicia, Raymond Lewis, his top designer, barged into his office and slammed a legal document on his desk.

Jake waved the phone at Lewis, indicating he was busy. Ignoring Lewis, he spoke into the mouthpiece. “I’m not involved with the money disappearing. Neither is my wife. She has nothing to do with any of her father’s illegal activities.”

“Save it for the jury. George is going to call you a little later and withdraw his support as well. Without us, HFHV is history.”

“You know who you’re punishing—the people who’ve been waiting for houses for two years.”

“That should keep you up nights—not me!”

Jake sighed. He’d known when he’d married Alicia there would be fallout. What he hadn’t realized was how determined he would feel about protecting Alicia.

No sooner had Davis hung up than Lewis leaned threateningly over his desk.

“What?” Jake set the receiver down. “What’s wrong?”

“Your wife for starters. My letter of resignation is on your desk.”

Jake glanced down, speed-reading the document. He tore it in two. “This is ridiculous.”

“Not to me. When you fired all my top designers the other day, I still believed you were a man of integrity who was being unfairly judged by the media,” Lewis said. “When I heard you secretly married, I wised up about you fast.”

“Sorry you feel that way. I believe my wife is innocent.”

“Who do you think you’re kidding? Mitchell must have bought and paid for you. You’re dirty, and he’s threatened to spill what he knows unless you promise to take care of his little girl while he’s in the slammer.”

“You’re very wrong. I wouldn’t give that bastard the time of day.”

Lewis didn’t stay to argue the point. Turning on his heel, he stalked out, banging as many doors as he could, thereby causing such a ruckus, people stopped what they were doing and stepped out of their offices to watch.

Vanessa rushed into Jake’s office. “Your face is a dangerous shade of red. I’d tell you to sit down, but you’re already sitting. What exactly happened in here?”

“Lewis called me a crook and quit. Unfortunately, it’s becoming a familiar refrain. Not that I didn’t expect something like this when word got out.”

“Sorry the honeymoon had to end so fast.”

What honeymoon? Jake thought bleakly.

“What do you say we get back to work—unless you’re going to call me a crook and quit on me, too.”

“I can’t afford high-minded principles. I’ve got three growing sons to support. You should see my grocery bills.” She smiled encouragingly.

“Glad somebody believes in my character.”

She laughed. “Cheer up. When you’ve sunk this low, there’s nowhere to go but up. Your wife’s a beautiful woman. Seems kind of sweet, too. You could have done worse.”

“You think so?”

She nodded.

Odd the way Vanessa’s faith in Alicia eased his tension. Vanessa had excellent instincts.

“And she’s a breeder. You don’t always know that when you tie the knot. Your kid will be better off if the two of you figure out how to be happy together. I hope you give her a chance.”

“You are not my therapist! Out!”

“That’s my cue.” She saluted him and made a brisk exit.

You could have done worse. And she’s a breeder.

Jake leaned back in his chair and massaged his brow. He’d been married to Alicia what, two nights? Not that he felt married exactly. No—he felt frustrated and lonely.

He never felt lonely. He liked being alone. Hell, besides having had no sex, they’d hardly spent any time together. Why was this bothering him so much when he hadn’t even wanted to marry her?

Yesterday after breakfast, even though she’d locked herself in her bedroom, he hadn’t wanted to leave her. To give her the run of the house, he’d stayed outside doing odd maintenance jobs like throwing out a plastic storage box full of mildewed life preservers. And all that time, he’d been wondering if she was as aware of him as he was of her.

So much for the first day of his marriage to his very sexy wife. This morning, he’d hoped that when he left for work he’d quit thinking about her. He’d been glad that, unlike her, he had somewhere to go where maybe he could get his mind off her. But even here he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

He’d known their marriage would cause more problems, at least in the short term. Not that it was fun to deal with the onslaught of attacks from all directions. Still, they were going to have a baby. Every time he remembered how pale and haunted Alicia had looked when she’d turned up on his doorstep with her news, he felt more determined than ever to stand by her.

When the phone rang again, he cringed. Fortunately it was only his twin brother.

“You’re a lucky man,” Logan said.

“Good to know somebody thinks so.”

“Alicia didn’t know a damn thing her father was up to.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Mitchell lied to and manipulated everybody. I know how he was with her because she and I went out … for a while. But then, you already know that,” Logan trailed off awkwardly.

“Right.”

Jake didn’t like Logan reminding him he’d been there first with Alicia any better than he’d ever liked Logan telling him what to do or think.

“Every time I took her anywhere, people envied me,” Logan said.

Jake frowned. “Well, she’s married to me now.”

“True. And how did that happen so fast? Last time we talked, you said she didn’t want to date anybody. Then my CEO and you went to the feds and Butler really crashed in flames.”

If he’d felt closer to Logan, maybe he would have told him about the pregnancy and explained the sense of responsibility he felt toward Alicia. But for a lot of years Jake had kept Logan in the dark about his life. So, for now, Jake wanted to keep it that way.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the wedding. If it makes you feel any better, we didn’t invite anyone. Well … except for my secretary, who brought her son … but only because we needed a witnesses. Frankly, Alicia and I wanted to keep our marriage quiet as long as possible. Not easy when satellite trucks and photographers are camped on our doorstep.”

“Well, the papers and Internet are full of it this morning.”

“They’re all damning me as a crook the equal of Butler—so you see why I wanted to keep things quiet.”

“It’ll blow over. Alicia’s a wonderful woman.”

Jake appreciated his brother’s vote of confidence—not that he voiced this.

“No matter what it costs you, she’ll be worth it.”

Vanessa had said almost the same thing. Difficult as his relationship with Logan had been in the past, Jake respected his opinion.

“Treat her right—you hear? Someday you might have a family together.”

A family. At the thought of the child that she was already secretly carrying, he felt his neck grow hot.

“Like you know everything because you’re ten minutes older,” Jake said.

“Being first is everything.” Logan laughed.

Jake was silent.

“Well, Cici will be calling Alicia to invite you all out here to Belle Rose for dinner, so we can at least celebrate this with Grand-père, who’s thrilled, by the way. The two of you could spend the weekend.”

Jake’s skin heated at the thought of sharing a double bed in an upstairs guest room with Alicia all night and trying to keep his hands off her.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Sure it is. We’re family. It’s about time we started acting like one.”

Family. Heavy word coming from Logan, Jake thought before he said goodbye.

He began to think about his wife, wondering what Alicia could possibly be doing at home all by herself. He wanted to call her and see how she felt. He hoped she wasn’t feeling nauseated.

Don’t think about her. You did what she asked. You married her, didn’t you? That’s all you owe her.

Why didn’t he feel like it was? Why did he feel … sorry for her … concerned even?

Hell. He felt a whole lot more than that. When her father had been indicted, her whole world had been destroyed. She’d lost her job and her friends in Louisiana. Maybe he was having problems himself right now, but his battles were nothing compared to hers.

Concerned about her father, she’d seemed so genuine and sweet the first night they’d met. She hadn’t acted as if she had anything to hide.

If only he could stop remembering their lovemaking in such excruciating detail. She’d been so slick and warm and tight when he’d been inside her.

He wanted her again—badly.

Alicia arose from the computer, sure that if she didn’t stop reading Basil Bienville’s revolting blog about her marriage and her father along with the scathing comments posted by his readers, her morning sickness would return.

Those of us who’ve followed the scandals involving Butler Bank and Houses for Hurricane Victims shouldn’t really be so amazed to learn that Alicia Butler has been living openly with Jake Claiborne. Or surprised that now we know why. According to a source close to the bride, Claiborne married the daughter of the man he turned over to the feds and publicly claims to hate Saturday evening in St. Anthony’s Garden.

Why so hush-hush? Who’s really responsible for the funds missing from Houses for Hurricane Victims? Does this marriage confirm what we already suspected—that Claiborne is as big a thief as Butler?

“Damn sure confirms it for me,” wrote an angry reader.

If Jake hadn’t married her, nobody would want to nail him to the cross.

Feeling isolated, she began to pace, wondering if there was anything lonelier than being in a house alone that wasn’t one’s own, especially when you were upset and needed to talk to someone—anyone. In one’s own house, there were always a million little tasks to perform to distract oneself.

Not so in Jake’s house—unless she read his outdoor adventure magazines or decided to answer his phone, which had rung nonstop ever since he’d left for the office. For a while she’d been too nauseated to move, so answering it had been out of the question. But her nausea seemed to be in the past now.

If in the six weeks before her marriage she’d felt as if she were dead to everybody she’d ever known, now she truly felt buried alive.

If only Carol, the one friend who’d stood by her, didn’t live in London …. Damn the time difference.

Feeling the need to talk to a real friend, she sat down and dialed Carol.

Carol’s voice mail picked up.

“Carol here. Sorry we’re not home ….”

Alicia listened to her friend’s message until it ended with a beep. She almost felt like calling her back so she could hear her voice again. Instead, she left a message and then called Kimberly, who formerly had been her best friend at work. They’d gone out together to movies and concerts and for the occasional drink or dinner.

“It’s me, Alicia,” she said when Kim answered.

There was a telling pause. “I … I read in the paper that you got married this past weekend,” Kim finally said.

“You can’t believe everything you read, you know.”

“I know. Still … Well, I hope you’ll be very happy.”

“Thanks.” Alicia paused. “So, how have you been?”

“Busy. Deadlines. A couple of writers are late with their stuff. We’re juggling. You know how it is.”

“I’ve missed you so much. Missed work, too. I really need to talk to someone.”

“I have missed you …. Look, Alicia, I’d love to talk. Really I would, but Sam’s waving at me to get off the phone now, so I … I really do have to go.”

“But, Kim, please—”

“Bye for now, Alicia. Sorry. I’ll call you when I have a minute. Really I will.”

Then Kim was gone. Just like Alicia’s entire life was gone.

She closed her eyes and let the silence of the empty house fill her for a long moment. Deliberately trying to blank her mind, she kept them shut for ten minutes. When at last she opened them, she felt as if something inside her had shifted.

Just because things looked bad now, they didn’t have to stay that way. She was pregnant. Her baby meant she had a future. Maybe a future she couldn’t imagine yet, but a future. She shouldn’t dwell on the past—she should make plans for the months and years ahead. Not easy when she was under siege in this house with nothing to do and her heart feeling like a heavy lump in her chest. But she could do it.

Where to start? What did people who stayed home do all day?

They had lives. They went out with their friends. They shopped. They went to their gyms. They could do these things because they still had friends and their bank accounts weren’t frozen. They planned parties, fundraisers. They weren’t their federally-indicted father’s number one scapegoat.

Alicia walked over to a kitchen window. Lifting the drape, she stared out at the overgrown yard and beds. As a child she’d gardened with her mother. Her job and her apartment hadn’t made gardening a feasible hobby. Maybe there was something outside she could do. She couldn’t face days and days inside the house watching television.

Scarcely knowing what she did, she ran to her room to change. Then she let herself out the back door, banging the screen door behind her.

Curious, Gus slipped out behind her. She went into the garage and dug through drawers and shelves until she found a large straw hat, a pair of old gardening gloves that were too large and some gardening tools. Then she began to attack the beds, weeding, pruning, turning the rich, loamy soil.