sp; “What about her?”
“I was hoping you had talked to Alex about me visiting her.”
“I brought it up. He thinks she shouldn’t have visitors.”
“But we’re family,” Cherise complained. “You know she and I were always close.”
This was news. Or a lie. He took a long pull on the can. “I hadn’t heard.”
“Come on, Nick. You remember. We always hung out together when you . . . well, when you and she were together.”
“I really don’t recall.”
“Well, it’s true. I counted her as one of my best friends.” She fiddled with the clasp on her tiny purse as she talked, fidgety little fingers with purplish polish working the gold button. Click, click, click. “And now Alex refuses to let me see her. I don’t know if it’s just me or all her friends, but I don’t think it’s right.”
“I said he’s not big on the visitor thing. I doubt if I can change his mind.”
“Then go around him, for goodness sake. Tell Marla I want to see her.”
“This . . . affection or friendship you have with Marla, it has nothing to do with the fact that you and Monty are making noises that you were cut out of the inheritance?”
Was it his imagination or did her eyes narrow just a fraction? “I suppose that’s what Alex is peddling.”
“Among other things.” He drank half the can, watched her squirm a bit.
Her little face screwed up in vexation. “Wouldn’t you know?” Disgust contorting her pretty features, Cherise tossed one hand in the air. “That’s another issue,” she said in a long-suffering sigh. “I know Alex is your brother, but if I were you, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”
I don’t. “Why?”
“Because, because . . . he’s running the company into the ground and he’s a liar. Always has been and he won’t change now. He’s guarded. Secretive. And some of the secrets you wouldn’t believe.”
“But you know them?”
“Some of them,” Cherise admitted, her eyes darkening with challenge. “But not all. No one knows all of Alexander Cahill’s secrets. Not even his wife.”
“I suppose you think he could use a good dose of Christianity.”
“Everyone could.” Her smile was as phony as her eyelashes. She batted them coyly. “Even you, Nick.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Jesus forgives us all of our sins. Me. Alex. You.”
Nick’s jaw slid to one side as he eyed his cousin. “I don’t know, Cherise, my list is pretty long. It could take him a while.” To prove his point he opened his throat and chugged the Coors.
“Trust me. He’s a very patient man.”
Nick laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. There was something about Cherise he’d always liked; then again she was a real pain in the butt. Chameleonlike, Cherise seemed to blend into her surroundings, whether it had been the Junior League, drug scene, or now, her latest venture, into the world of evangelism.
“I’d just like to see Marla,” she said, reaching for her umbrella as she stood. “I thought maybe you could arrange it.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“How is she?” Cherise asked as if she really cared, but Nick noticed it had taken her nearly fifteen minutes to ask.
“Comin’ along.”
“Good. Give me a call. I’m staying at the house right now. The number’s the same as it always was.” Balancing her umbrella with one hand, she dug in the small purse with the other, then withdrew a business card. “Here ya go.” She handed it to him, and Nick noted the praying hands embossed in one corner while her name, address and phone number, linked with the Reverend Donald, her husband’s, along with their church affiliation, adorned another. “And,” she said, placing a soft, smooth hand upon his, “know that I’m praying for Marla. For Alex. For you. Donald is praying as well.”