Texas Sunrise by Fern Michaels

made herself to shade the huge bow window, was checkered green and white, with a darker green tassel trim. Every appliance was a rich copper color. Bowls of luscious fruit always sat on the counter.
    Riley carried the hot cocoa he’d made in a huge mug that said DAD, along with the portable phone, to the old rocker next to the fireplace. The cocoa was cool enough to drink now. Riley sipped, aware that the big old yellow tomcat, Slick, was licking his chops. Slick had wandered up to the back porch one day and had never gone.
    Riley leaned back against the cushions. He was diddling, trying to postpone the moment when he had to call his cousin. He ran the time difference over in his head as he punched out the numbers. When he had a clear connection, he spoke in rapid-fire Japanese. He reverted to English when Cole’s voice hummed over the wire, though Cole understood Japanese as well as he did.
    â€œHow are things back in Texas?” Cole asked quietly.
    â€œWell, it’s a quarter to four in the morning, so not much is going on. How’s Sumi?”
    â€œAnxious, but then so am I. Look, Riley, the reason I called is ... What are the chances of you coming over here for a few days? If it wasn’t so close to Sumi’s delivery date, I’d come to Texas. Can you handle it? I know you said you’d come back when you were ready and not one minute before, but I find myself in need of that cool Japanese head of yours.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œAs soon as possible. I wish you were here now. Can you clear your decks?”
    Riley snorted. “About all any of us are doing is twiddling our thumbs. Yeah, I can get away. Of course, Adam is going to want to know why I’m not tending his wells.” The joke fell flat when Cole remained quiet.
    â€œHang up, Riley, I’ll call you back in ten minutes.” The connection was broken before Riley had a chance to say anything. He looked at the pinging phone, at the cat who was slinking across the kitchen floor in search of a mouse.
    Since he obviously wasn’t going back to bed, Riley measured coffee into the percolator and plugged it in just as the phone rang.
    â€œYou can get a seven A.M. flight out of Austin, fly to LAX, and from there to Honolulu, where you board a flight for Guam. I’ll fly the Dream Machine to Guam, pick you up, and we’ll deadhead back. Deal?”
    Riley blinked. “Reservations?”
    â€œMy girl is taking care of it as we speak. Ivy?”
    â€œNo problem,” Riley murmured. Guam. His mother had met his father in Guam. They’d been married there and lived in a little farmhouse until his father had been sent to Vietnam to fly night missions over the Mekong Delta, where he was killed.
    The coffee was strong, almost as thick as mud. Riley drank it anyway, but not before he poured a generous amount of cream into the cup. It still tasted like mud. Ivy would throw it out when she got up and make her own special blend of Irish cream with a touch of cinnamon. She even ground the beans fresh each morning. Jonquil, their housekeeper, didn’t like flavored coffees and kept a can of Folgers for herself in the cupboard, which is what he had used. He decided he didn’t like Jonquil’s coffee. Neither did Slick when he poured what was left in his cup into the cat’s dish.
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    The first person Riley saw when he stepped off the jumbo jet into Guam’s blanket-wet humidity was Cole. He looks as tired as I feel, Riley thought. He’d never seen shadows under his cousin’s eyes before.
    When the handshaking, backslapping, and hugs were over, Cole said, “I filed a flight plan. We can either deadhead back or stay over so you can get some sleep. It’s your call. I booked a room at one of the hotels we own, just in case.”
    Riley thought about it for a full minute before he replied. “I slept almost all the way. What I would really like is some ham and eggs and a quick