Love Takes All - J.M. Jeffries

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forward and realized the man sitting across from Miss E. clutched his fingers tightly. A few minutes earlier they had been more relaxed.

      “That’s his tell,” Jasper said. “I don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing.”

      Most professional players thought their eyes and facial expressions gave them away, hence the oversized sunglasses to hide what he thought must be his tell. Jasper had been educating Lydia, giving her a running commentary on the game as it progressed. Lydia had a rudimentary knowledge of the game learned at Miss E.’s poker school when Lydia had first attended. But Jasper brought a deeper, more profound knowledge of the game and Lydia was happy to listen.

      Miss Eleanor tapped the table, her long graceful fingers holding her cards almost daintily. She wore clear reading glasses, her own face impassive. If she had a tell, Lydia hadn’t spotted it yet. Miss E. looked completely unassuming and harmless, yet Lydia knew a tigress lurked beneath that tranquil, serene exterior.

      The dealer slid a card toward Miss E. and she smiled at him and said thank-you. She was always gracious, always mannerly while the other player tended to be surly. The man shoved all the stacks of chips in front of him to the center of the table. Eleanor matched it.

      Lydia believed Miss E. had her opponent on the run, but Lydia had been taking poker lessons for only the past few months, so she wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Miss Eleanor had taught Lydia the mechanics of poker, but the more subtle details of the game eluded her.

      Miss Eleanor’s opponent said something. Miss Eleanor raised a delicate eyebrow. Slowly she turned over the cards in front of her, not even looking at them. With an angry twist to his lips, the man threw his cards at her and stood up. Miss Eleanor smiled and scooped up all the chips and the deed for the casino that had been the final prize. Miss Eleanor had won.

      Lydia tilted her head at Miss Eleanor. “Lydia,” she said in a clear voice, “you, Reed and I are now the proud owners of the Casa de Mariposa.”

      Lydia wet her lips. “I knew you wouldn’t lose.” Her nervousness drained away, replaced by elation. She had set out to do something different with her life, and here she was a former upper crust hostess of New Orleans society and now the new owner of a casino.

      Miss. E. leaned close to the window, her voice carried into the gallery by a microphone. “You can take a breath now, sweetie.”

      Lydia did. She jumped to her feet. She couldn’t wait to tell Maya.

      “Let’s go enjoy our victory.” Jasper held out a hand to her.

      Across the gallery Jasper’s daughter watched them, her mouth tight with anger. She glared at her father, then turned on her heel and left the gallery.

      “Of course.” Lydia gathered up her purse and jacket and headed toward the gallery door, Jasper following on her heels.

      In the hall outside the poker room, Miss Eleanor handed the signed deed to Lydia. “I’m going to call Reed. I wish he could have been here. He’ll be ecstatic.”

      Lydia had yet to meet Reed. He’d been called home to deal with a family emergency.

      She stared at the deed, excited, scared and hopeful. She could hardly wait to go back to her suite to tell her daughter. Their new life in Reno, Nevada, had just begun.

      Chapter 1

      Hunter Russell woke and tried to figure out what was ringing. Darkness outside the windows of his apartment told him it was still night. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just after three a.m. A few sleepy moments passed before he realized the ringing sound was his phone. He grabbed the device, feeling a surge of worry when he saw his grandmother’s number on the display. His heart started racing as panic engulfed him.

      “Miss E,” he said, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dire thoughts rushed through him.

      She laughed. “I’m fine, Hunter. Just fine. Nothing is wrong.”

      In his experience, phone calls at three a.m. were never good. “Then why are you calling?” He sat up, struggling to push sleep away. If nothing was wrong, why was his seventy-eight-year-old grandmother calling at three in the morning?

      “Pack your bags, Hunter, I need you in Reno. Immediately.”

      Lingering drowsiness finally cleared. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are you sure you’re not ill?”

      “Trust me. Everything is fabulous,” she said, still laughing. “I just won a casino in a poker game.”

      “You what?”

      She repeated her statement, pausing between each word. “I...just...won...a...casino. In a poker game.”

      He shook his head. Had he heard her right? “Did you just say you won a casino?”

      “Twice, Hunter. Wake up.”

      That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “Miss E., are you insane? Are you drunk?”

      “Grandson,” she said sharply, “do you think I can’t reach through this phone and slap you upside the head?”

      Hunter tried not to flinch. He did think that. His grandmother was capable of anything. “I’m sorry, Miss E. Just start from the beginning and talk really slow.”

      She sighed. “I had an opportunity to win a casino in a poker game. Lydia Montgomery and Reed Watson staked me and I won that baby on an inside straight that no one saw coming because I’m an old lady.” She giggled.

      When he’d been a child, she tried to keep what she did on the down low. Hunter and his siblings all knew she’d send them off to school in the morning and be home again when they returned. In between she played poker—cutthroat poker. They all knew she supported them by playing cards at various casinos in Las Vegas, but no one really talked about it. After all, she’d inherited four boisterous children when their parents had died in an automobile accident and she had to be respectable.

      “I’ll be there in four or maybe five hours,” he said, unable to stop himself from talking. He just had to know how she had the nerve to bet her life savings for a shot at winning a casino.

      “See you soon. I’ll be at the Casa de Mariposa. It’s easy to find.” She disconnected.

      Hunter set his phone down on the nightstand, his head spinning. What had his grandmother gotten into now? The first thing he did was call the airport, but since he couldn’t get a flight until morning, he might as well drive. The arrival time would be the same. Next, he called his two brothers and sister to put them on standby. After a quick shower, he packed for a week and walked out the door of his South Beach apartment while sending text messages to his personal assistant to reschedule his appointments. Later he would let her know how far ahead she needed to reschedule.

      He opened the door to the underground garage and walked to his Mercedes. A few moments later he pulled out into the thick, foggy morning air of San Francisco and headed toward the freeway.

      * * *

      Hunter couldn’t believe his eyes. He stood in the parking lot, staring up at the elegant stately hotel that rose twelve stories up. Morning sun had already chased the desert night chill away, replacing it with rising heat. A temperature gauge on a bank across the street flashed an eighty-eight in between showing the time.

      “What do you think?” Miss E. stood next to him on the sidewalk as he studied the rows of balconies that studded the side of the hotel with his inner architect eye.

      The Spanish architecture was beautifully done. Painted in a glowing golden pink, the stucco façade was fancifully decorated with brightly colored mosaic trim around the doors and window, with elaborate gothic arches over the entrance to the hotel. The architectural style was a bit of a mishmash of Spanish Colonial, Moorish influence and a touch of Gothic, yet it was still pleasantly attractive and easy on the eyes.

      Though he was in awe, he couldn’t stop himself from scolding

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