Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

“I worked there for two summers during college break. I need you to help me find a way to help them.”

Jackson shook his head before she finished her request. “No can do. Between the teddy bears, the preschool visits to the opera, and everything else, you have to help yourself now.” His mouth settled into a firm, unyielding line. “I have to help you help yourself.”

Lori began to pace. “You really don’t understand. You can take away my shopping trips. I’ll wash Kenny myself, although someone else will have to trim his nails, because I refuse to hurt him. I can’t let this fail. It would be wrong.”

Jackson looked at her for a long moment and sighed. “This must be like an addiction or something to you. You find some needy cause and you have to shell out the bucks to-”

“This is not an addiction!” she shouted, rounding on him. Her heart raced with anger, fury pounded in her head. She felt her left eye begin to twitch. She glanced at the Waterford crystal vase of flowers and itched to throw it at him. She couldn’t remember when she had felt so strongly about something. Not since her father died. Maybe not even since her accident.

She could look at Jackson James and see that he didn’t respect her. She couldn’t really blame him. She wasn’t sure she even respected herself. But this was different. She really didn’t want to let Miracles in Motion go under.

She took a deep breath. “This is different. This was a very special place. They liked me and valued me, not just because of who my father was.”

“If they’re asking you for money now, how can you be sure of that?” he asked, reeking cynicism and disbelief.

At that moment, Lori really hated the man, and she couldn’t remember ever hating anyone. “It must be sad to be you, to never be able to see the good in people, or just the possibility of good in people.”

A sliver of surprise came and went in his eyes, and his jaw hardened. “This isn’t about my personal abilities. This is about your financial situation.”

“You’re right. You’re exactly right. Thank you for reminding me. And your job is to help me accomplish what I believe is important. And this is important.”

“Are you willing to fire your assistant and other members of your staff to accomplish it?”

Lori blinked. She hadn’t even considered that. “I-don’t see how. Merilee has a son in college, and Dena’s husband hurt his back, so he can’t work. She’s the sole support of their family.”

“Then where do you propose to get the money?” he asked.

Lori drew a blank. The truth hurt, but the truth was she knew much more about spending money than making it. “That’s part of your job, isn’t it?”

He raked his hand through his hair. “I’m gonna have to think on this. The general rule is you don’t expand expenditures when you’re short of cash.”

“There’s got to be a way. Maybe a loan.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, you need that like you need a root canal. There’s always the alternative condition your father left…”

Lori felt bitter disgust back up in her throat. “You mean that archaic, chauvinistic, insulting clause that if I get married and remain married until I’m thirty, then my husband and I can have more access to my inheritance, but my husband will have to approve major purchases.” She gritted her teeth. “I still think Daddy must have been mentally half-gone when he put in that provision.”

Not only was it insulting, it was also embarrassing. The ultimate no-confidence vote. Her father had loved her with all his heart, but he obviously hadn’t believed she was capable of looking after herself. The terrible question whispered in her brain like a hissing poisonous snake.

What if she wasn’t?

Before Lori Jean Granger drove him completely out of his mind, Jackson decided to drive his Chevy Blazer to a barren area past the outskirts of Dallas. This was where he came when he felt the corporate demands sliding around his neck to choke the life out of him. With his jacket already ditched, he tugged his tie loose and undid the top button of his shirt. It was still hot as hell outside, and even though he’d been wearing suits since he graduated from college, he’d never grown accustomed to it. No matter what brand he wore, he always felt as if he was wearing a straitjacket and a silk noose.

He got out of his truck and watched the sun ease down the horizon. Two hundred acres of scrubby land. The only good thing about the acreage was the accessibility to the highway. Anyone else looking at the expanse of barren land would see an ugly, useless plot of real estate.

But not Jackson. Jackson saw well-manicured lawns with houses that oozed comfort. He saw paved driveways and neighborhood streets with lights. He saw a playground for children and a community clubhouse and swimming pool. He saw everything he had wanted as a child and didn’t have.

An image of the shack he’d grown up in flashed through his mind. He heard his father’s anger and his mother’s tears. He smelled the alcohol on his father’s breath and felt his rough slap across his cheek as if it were yesterday. He saw the bruises on his mother’s face and felt the horrible helplessness.

Something inside him hardened like granite.

He would never be helpless again. He would make his own way.

The rest of the firm would fall out of their chairs if they knew that Jackson James had every intention of becoming the next real-estate tycoon of Texas. The partners and everyone else thought he was a heartless sonovabitch determined to make his living through accounting, but Jackson had always known accounting was just a means to an end. The kind of success he wanted required a vision and heart his peers thought he didn’t possess. It also, however, required financial backing, and that would take some time. He sucked in a draft of hot summer air and narrowed his eyes. It may look like a piece of crap now, but this was going to be one building block of his fortune. Jackson owned a couple of houses in town that he rented and added the monthly payments to the special account for Jackson Place.

“ Jackson Place,” he echoed, and his lips twitched with self-derision. It was egotistical as hell to name a real-estate development after himself, but he didn’t want anyone mistaking who founded this successful venture.

Jackson Place would be the first of many successful ventures. He knew it in his bones. Nothing would stop him, especially not the whiny, nerve-racking Princess Granger, who had somehow managed to pussy whip even the toughest accountant. The Granger account was just one more little battle to conquer, and both heaven and hell knew he’d fought tougher opponents than Lori Granger.

Lori sat on her bed with Kenny by her side as she looked at the contents of the package she’d received earlier that afternoon. She couldn’t remember being this angry in her life.

She snatched another Oreo from the plateful on her bedside table, then lifted the nearly empty bottle of Cristal champagne and guzzled it straight from the bottle. She’d smashed her crystal champagne flute against her closet a couple of minutes ago.

Her personal line rang, and she was so disgusted she almost didn’t answer. Glowering, she snatched up the receiver. “Hello,” she said in a voice that sounded both slurred and cross to her own ears.

“Lori Jean? Is that you?”

Lori immediately recognized her sister Delilah’s voice, and something inside her eased. “It’s me. I am so angry at my father I could scream.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself at all.”

“Probably because myself is so furious I can’t stand it.”

“I know Harlan had almost as much money as the devil himself, but what could he do from the grave that would piss you off this much?”

“It’s not what he did from the grave. It’s what he did before,” she said, scooping up a pile of letters from her long-deceased mother. “Did you know Momma sent me at least three letters a week until she died? He kept them from me. Even after she died, he didn’t let me see them.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. If it helps any, my father wouldn’t let me read them, either. He was actually worse, though. He burned them right in front of me.”

Lori knew Delilah’s father had been downright harsh. He’d even been known to beat Delilah. It was a miracle Delilah had turned out as loving and successful as she had. No one would have predicted she would marry one of the Houston Huntingtons and start having babies right away, but Delilah had always been one for the unexpected.

“Your father was a toad. He was worse than a toad,” Lori said.

“Lori, sweetie, you sound very strange. What are you drinking?”

“Cristal, but I’m balancing it with Oreos since you’re not supposed to drink on an empty stomach.” She glanced around her room. The decor hadn’t changed much since she’d first moved here as a frightened young girl so many years ago. Once Harlan had learned that his quick affair with her mother, Sunny Collins, had yielded a daughter, he’d smeared Sunny’s reputation in court and won custody so fast it made heads spin. He had been a doting but controlling father, determined that Lori not go the way of her slutty mother.

Delilah snickered. “I approve the champagne, but you’re gonna feel horrible in the morning.”

“I’ve felt horrible for the last few days, so it won’t be anything new. I knew my father was controlling, but this, this just takes the cake. Between the will and the letters, he was-”

“What about the will?” Delilah asked.

Lori winced. She hadn’t wanted Delilah to know about the will and the trust. “It’s nothing, really. He was just being his regular controlling self, wanting to control my entire life. I swear if he could have put strings on me to make me dance like a puppet, he would have done that.” She picked up another letter addressed to her in her mother’s flowery script and felt a dull pain behind her ribs. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to forgive him for this.” She felt so betrayed, so horribly betrayed. She had longed to contact her mother, but Harlan had prevented every effort. All because he was terrified that she would end up a floozy like her mother.

“Lori? Lori Jean, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here,” she muttered, picking up the bottle of Cristal and swallowing the last drops.

“As much as I can sympathize with your anger and your desire to tie one on when you found out about the letters, you’re gonna pay for this big-time in the morning. Trust me. I want you to promise me that you won’t drink any more champagne tonight.”

That was easy. The bottle was empty. “I promise,” she said, smothering a burp. “No more champagne tonight.”

“You promise?” Delilah repeated skeptically, as if she knew she’d extracted the agreement too easily.

“I promise. I not only promise. I promise to keep that promise.”

“You’re really loaded, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not driving.”

Delilah chuckled. “I may have one of my Dallas managers check in on you tomorrow,” she said.

Delilah had expanded her spa business so that she now had an additional location in Dallas. Lori could feel the haze of alcohol closing over her brain, but she didn’t want Delilah worrying about her. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Remember, I’m surrounded by people eager to do my bidding.”

She slumped down against her pillow and yawned, closing her eyes.

“If you’re sure,” Delilah said.

“I’m sure. I’m really sure,” Lori said, absently stroking Kenny.

“Well, I doubt you’ll remember this, but the reason I called is to tell you that I’m pregnant.”

Lori’s eyes popped open. “Again? That’s three times in three years!”

Delilah gave a low chuckle. “What can I say? Benjamin inspires me.”

Lori felt the slightest stab of envy but pushed it aside. She knew Delilah had suffered before she’d found her dream man. “Is Ben excited?”

“Of course, and he’s so sweet about morning sickness. He brings me crackers, caffeine-free soda, and a prenatal vitamin every morning before he leaves for the office.”

“Must be nice to have a man so crazy for you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but I don’t want to gush too much. Something tells me you might be dealing with a queasy stomach in the morning for a totally different reason.”

“Well, I won’t need any prenatal vitamins, that’s for sure.” She closed her eyes again. “Congratulations on the new baby, sis.”

“Thanks, Lori. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon. Don’t forget to wash off your makeup and take an Advil before you fall asleep.”

“Absolutely,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so slurred. “’Night, Dee.”