Denim and Lace by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page A

was about Cade. No other man could really measure up to him, and it was cruel to lead a man on when she had nothing to offer him. She was as innocent as a child in so many ways, but Cade obviously thought she was as sophisticated as her outward image. That was a farce. If only he knew how long she’d gone hungry wanting him.
    She closed her eyes and forced her taut muscles to relax. She had to stop worrying over the past and get some sleep. The funeral was tomorrow. They’d lay her poor father to rest, and then perhaps she and her mother could tie up all the loose ends and get on with the ordeal of moving and trying to live without the wealth they’d been accustomed to. That would be a challenge in itself. She wondered how she and Gussie would manage.

CHAPTER FOUR
    A S B ESS EXPECTED , there was a crowd at the simple graveside service, but it wasn’t made up just of friends and neighbors. It was a press holiday, with reporters and cameras from all over the state. On the fringe of the mob Bess caught a glimpse of Elise Hollister, stately and tall, standing with her three sons. She caught the older woman’s eye, and Elise smiled at her gently. Then, involuntarily, Bess’s eyes glanced at Cade. He looked very somber in a dark suit, towering over his mother and his brothers, Gary and Robert. Red-haired Rob was outgoing, nothing like Gary and Cade. Gary was bookish, and kept the accounts. He was a little shorter than Cade, and his coloring was lighter and he was less authoritative. Bess turned her attention back to what the minister was saying, aware of Gussie’s subdued sobbing beside her.
    The cemetery was on a small rise overlooking the distant river. It was a Presbyterian church graveyard with tombstones that dated back to the Civil War. All the Samsons were buried here. It was a quiet place, with live oaks and mesquite all around. A good place for a man’s final resting place. Frank Samson would have approved.
    â€œMy poor Frank,” Gussie whimpered into her handkerchief as they left the cemetery. “My poor, poor Frank. However will we manage without him?”
    â€œFrugally,” Bess said calmly. Her tears had all been shed the night before. She was looking ahead now to the legal matters that would be pending. She’d never had to cope with business, but she certainly couldn’t depend on Gussie.
    She helped her mother into the limousine and sat back wearily on the seat as the driver climbed in and started the engine. Outside, cameras were pointed in their direction, but Bess ignored them. She looked very sophisticated in her black suit and severe bun atop a face without a trace of makeup. She’d decided early that morning that the cameras wouldn’t find anything attractive in her face to draw them to it. They didn’t either. She looked as plain as a pikestaff. Gussie, on the other hand, was in a lacy black dress with diamonds glittering from her ears and throat and wrists. Not diamonds, Bess reminded herself, because those had already been sold. They were paste, but the cameras wouldn’t know. And Gussie had put on quite a show for them. She didn’t look at her mother now. She was too disappointed in the spectacle she’d made of their grief. That, too, was like Gussie, to play every scene theatrically. She’d left the stage to marry Frank Samson, and that was apparent, too.
    â€œI don’t want to sell the house,” Gussie said firmly, glancing at her daughter. “There must be some other way.”
    â€œWe could sell it with an option to rent,” Bess said. “That way we could keep up appearances, if that’s all that matters to you.”
    Gussie flushed. “Bess, what’s gotten into you?”
    â€œI’m tired, Mother,” Bess replied shortly. “Tired, and worn-out with grief and shame. I loved my father. I never dreamed he’d take his own life.”
    â€œWell, I’m sure I didn’t