The Rana Look by Sandra Brown

Author:Sandra Brown [Brown, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Love stories, Sports & Recreation, Health & Fitness, romance_contemporary, Texas, Football, Football players, Love stories; American, Businesswomen, Models (Persons), Beauty; Personal, Beauty & Grooming, Boardinghouses
ISBN: 9780553576054
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2003-12-02T16:34:18+00:00

Six

Morey is dead. Morey is dead.

It was now almost thirty-six hours since Rana had first heard those words from her mother’s lips, and she still couldn’t believe them. After standing at the grave site and seeing his casket, the very idea still seemed too incredible to accept.

So much had happened since her mother had broken the news of Morey’s death that it seemed as though the afternoon in the greenhouse with Trent had occurred in another lifetime. Both spiritual and physical fatigue settled on her as she reviewed the events subsequent to that phone call.

She had flung clothes haphazardly into a suitcase. Racing downstairs, she had asked Ruby if she could borrow her car. Ruby suggested that Trent could drive her to the airport, but Rana objected so strongly that Ruby gave her no further argument, even honoring her request that he not be called from the greenhouse to say good-bye. Rana told her friend that she would be away for an indefinite period of time. She didn’t specify where she was going.

When the landlady expressed concern for Rana’s obvious distress, the only explanation forthcoming was, “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

At Houston ’s Intercontinental Airport she had to watch two planes to New York take off without her before a standby seat on a third aircraft became available.

Once in New York, she took a cab to her apartment, where her mother was still living. They met face-to-face for the first time in six months. Susan was overtly hostile despite Rana’s need to be consoled.

“You look ridiculous, Rana. I hope you don’t expect me to claim you as mine, dressed like that.”

“What about Morey, Mother?”

“He’s dead.” She held a gold Cartier lighter to the end of a cigarette, inhaled dramatically, and then blew a cloud of smoke over her head.

Rana, exhausted from the ordeal of getting to Houston from Galveston, waiting at the airport for hours, the long flight, not to mention her mental anguish, collapsed on the sofa and closed her eyes. It was now two o’clock in the morning in New York. Her spirit was trampled and her nerves were frayed, she had just lost her dearest friend and staunchest ally, and her mother’s first comment had been about the way she looked. At that moment she hated Susan Ramsey.

“You told me that much on the telephone, Mother. What do you want me to do, beg you for the details?” She opened her eyes and confronted the woman she had never been able to please no matter how hard she had tried. “All right, I’m begging. What happened?” Her frustration finally got the best of her, and tears formed in her eyes.

Susan, with an almost smug expression, sat down on the far end of the long sofa. Despite the hour, she was immaculately groomed. Her satin robe was unwrinkled. “He died at home. One of his neighbors discovered the body late in the morning, when Morey didn’t show up for a brunch date they had.”

Morey lived alone; he and his wife had been divorced for years before Rana met him.

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