Lucille Nailed It Ch. 04

Lucille caught the look on Digger's face.

"I'm sorry, Angie - as much as I..."

But Angie had also seen her brother's look.

"He's worried about mother," Angie said.

"She's not going to accept you because she was mad as a meat-axe when her darling son upped and proposed to his office tart - er personal assistant. Mother had wanted him to marry Gwen Armstrong-Butler. Her hopes of this happening have risen again because Gwen's husband was killed six months ago during a car rally and of course mother knows that loser Meg is in the process of being culled. Gwen will be there!"

"I don't think..."

Angie cut in.

"Lucille's strong enough to allow mother to run over her back like rainwater; talk to her Digger."

"Er Lucille dad is loveable but mother walks with her claws unsheathed and truly believes she's local royalty. But if Angie insists, I've no objection."

"I really don't think..."

"Digger!" Angie shouted.

"We both plead with you to come," Digger grinned. "Please don't allow Angie to savage me; the little bitch can really bite."

They laughed and Lucille accepted the invitation on the promise that Angie would advise her mother than she'd invited Lucille and would explain who the extra guest was.

"Do I tell her you're fucking Digger?"

"Certainly not Angie," Lucille said, smothering a laugh; she didn't look at Digger.

The three of them had a very intense morning designing the new layout of the magazine, establishing layout policies and rules.

"And what's the line to be painted on the wall of the editorial room where everyone will see it daily?"

'Rubbish in, rubbish out; quality in, quality out' Angie said.

Digger and Lucille laughed and agreed that was an ideal suggestion.

They finished for the day at 1:00 and Lucille went off to settle on her apartment purchase. Because of the birthday party, she dropped the plan for her impromptu house-warming.

On Saturday morning Debs arrived with her mother at Lucille's request and Ida thought the apartment was just perfect for Lucille.

Debs was excited at seeing Lucille again and believed that the purchase meant her new friend intended staying on in Australia. Then Digger, Mo and Angie arrived just ahead of the first of three truck deliveries as it was all on.

Late afternoon an impromptu house-warming party began and Lucille called people and invited them to drop in.

* * *

Sunday was windless, not a cloud to be seen and Lucille was given the seat in the twin-engine light aircraft beside the pilot Harry, Mo's husband, who pointed out landmarks. Towards the end of the eighty minute flight they viewed Dubbo in the distance.

"There she is," said Harry, a commercial airline pilot.

Lucille looked out to where he was pointing and saw the sprawling homestead of Bluewater Downs. They flew a few minutes farther on and landed in a flattish area almost bare of vegetation that Harry said sometimes would be underwater during 'the wet' (the rainy season) and taxied to where two other aircraft and several vehicles were parked around a grove of gums on slightly higher ground on the lakeside "Bluewater Lake?"

"Its real name escapes me Lucille but when you're riding in the heat of summer you often see a blue mirage which is the reflection of the lake."

"Oooh look, some cows," Lucille cried. "Fifty of more; what pretty colors. How many are there on the property?"

"Six thousand eight hundred breeding cows mostly Simmentals and Santa Gertrudis - then there are sheep and land used for cropping," Digger said, using the headset for communication.

"Oooh," she confided to Harry. "The farm must be big."

"A reasonable size, but not like the ones up north or across to the far west. It's 6800 ha which is almost 17,000 acres to an American."

"It can't be," Lucille said disbelievingly. "That's bigger than Manhattan Island."

"That would be right," Harry said, then called, "Here were go, get ready for some bumps."

A short plump man with a very pink face under his Akubra [Stetson] advanced from the watching small crowd who were showing more interest in the aircraft than its occupants until he spotted Angie and yelled, "Happy Birthday."

"Hello daddy," she called to the short man whom Lucille had assumed was a ranch-hand or perhaps the ranch manager.

"Hi baby, welcome home," said her father, hugging her.

"Happy birthday darling," said a tall, elegant woman in her late-fifties who strode forth to clasp birthday girl in her arms.

"Hi mother. You are looking wonderful, as usual."

Mrs Morrissey looked at Lucille and said "Hello dear" and then greeted Frank and Mo and then rushed to hug Digger and saying. "You poor darling; what an upsetting end to a hideous marriage."

Well, that was a quick change into dragon from almost being a charmer, thought Lucille, noting all her fellow travelers were putting on Akubras and Mo held out one for her.

"Standard wear," she smiled. "That's why Angie told you to wear boots, shirt and either a tight skirt or jeans. We call our larger properties stations and trainee male workers are called Jackaroos and females Jillaroos. You are meant to look like a Jillaroo.

"Hello darling," Mrs Charmer/Dragon said kissing Mo. "Please introduce me to your very attractive friend."

"Mother this is Lucille Lightfoot from New York who has been engaged to rescue our failing magazine."

"Oh I thought she was an American tourist that Digger met in a bar."

"That will be Angie pulling your...er...leg mother. Debs introduced Lucille to Andrew after finding out she'd had this fantastic career in fashion in all facets, from starting as a seamstress during school holiday breaks to modeling the catwalks on three continents and now is a stellar international consultant - we're so lucky to have her and need her so desperately mother."

The over-sell including some downright lies embarrassed Lucille and then what happened next surprised her.

Mrs Morrissey took her hand and bowing slightly, almost curtsying, and said warmly, "Our distinguished guest, how delighted I am to welcome you to Australia and into the family communal network surrounding Bluewater Downs."

With relief Lucille noted Mrs Morrissey had her back to her children and Harry, who stood with their mouths open and in danger of catching investigatory flies scavenging for moisture. This charade just had to stop.

She scowled at the others as she clasped their hostess in a friendly hug and told her she was most impressed to be on a ranch bigger than the whole of Manhattan.

"Bigger than Manhattan," said Augustine. "Really - how big is our station?"

"Bigger than Manhattan," Digger laughed.

"Stop teasing me Digby. Edward, please step forward now and hug your children - don't dirty their clothes, and then come to me; I have an illustrious person you must meet."

Edward was efficient and had the greetings over quickly and Lucille found he was shorter than her but had a sweet nature and winked at her when the Dragon screeched, "Edward, don't kiss her cheek like that; she's probably spent hours over her make-up."

The image that flashed into Lucille's mind - waking up sometime last night and finding post-seduction juices leaking into a towel between her legs and that almost sent her into hysterics.

Anticipating that she was about to be treated like royalty, Lucille grabbed Angie by the arm and held on to it grimly.

"This is your day; please don't allow your mother to spoil it."

"Yes your majesty."

"Stop it and stay with me. God, how has your family managed to survive with so many clowns in it?"

"Mummy is the glue," Angie giggled. "Gosh, you are such a scream."

After the hostess found something else to interest her, Lucille found Mo. "Where's the Gwen babe?"

"She's done a runner and will miss the BQ."

"Is that English?"

"I would have thought so. It means Gwen could not come here for the barbie or grill to you because she's probably flown herself to Dubbo to get her hair done and a facial in preparation for the Big Entrance this evening.|"

"Why do that?"

"There're no flies on Gwenny."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh Lucille, you do need to recruit a personal interpreter."

A lovely afternoon followed - wine, steaks and salads, wonderful relaxed company with couples who called themselves graziers - although thanks to Angie Lucille learned without embarrassment that Grazier was not their family name and everyone was related but instead it was their vocation - they grazed livestock on these huge tracts of land plagued by drought and whatever but everyone would say they loved the life and wouldn't trade it for a billion dollars.

"Ha! - show me a few million and I'm off to the beach in Waikiki', one male grazier said changing his tune after having downed numerous cans of beer. His wife confined that grazier was actually quite a common name; they preferred to be called pastoralists.

That was confusing, thought Lucille - why not universally call themselves ranchers?

Later Augustine ('please call me Augustine dear') showed Lucille to a small bedroom cubicle as the homestead was overcrowded for the night.

Digger appeared and said Lucille could share his bed and he'd promise to keep his hands to himself (yeah as he's pushing it in, Lucille thought).

"No, no - I won't have it," Augustine snapped but three minutes later when she arrived in her bedroom and Edward asked casually which room had his wife allocated their American guest, Augustine rushed to Digger's room and announced, "I've changed my mind; Lucille probably will be safer sleeping under your protection tonight."

That was one occasion Digger thought his mother had made a sensible change of mind.

Everyone had over-imbibed during the afternoon at the lake, so almost everyone went to bed to sleep. Mo joined Digger and Lucille in bed, placing herself between them, to ensure the visitor rested well to be in fine shape for the birthday party.

A loud gong sounded at 8:30 and everyone scrambled to be in the lounge and entertainment room at 9:00, as decreed by their hostess.

Mo and Lucille helped the birthday girl get ready and with her hair piled up, tightly constrained in a low-cut short white dress and face made up beautifully Angie went to join her parents where she was to walk into the public rooms with them at 9:05.

Gwen arrived right on 9:00 with a big bang, literally.

She drove her parent's big 4WD, with her parents in the rear seats, straight into the solid concrete horse trough at the edge of the parking area, stopping the vehicle dead.

The steering wheel air-bag inflated as designed, leaving Gwen dazed with a light red welt diagonally across her face.

Men rushed out and helped Gwen and her dazed but uncomplaining parents into the homestead where they all were given whiskies.

Revived, Gwen proceeded into the drawing room to greet her waiting hostess with a kiss and hug.

Her foot caught in her long gown and she almost tumbled but an athletic grazier called Mark leaped forward and caught her from tumbling on to her face.

Everyone clapped or cheered or both and Mark acknowledged the accolades with a bow, and he playfully cuffed the right cheek of Gwen's shapely butt. The force of his smack sent her onwards, unfortunately with Mark's foot bearing down firmly on the hem of her gown.

Gwen surged forward, the gown de-constructed, most of it remaining behind. Her unintentional Big Entrance was taking place.

Fortunately she was wearing a bra but as she walked ahead of her dress is became clear that although she was wearing a sexy garter belt and stockings, she was without panties.

With a shriek, feeling her beautifully trimmed pussy out in the air, Gwen fell on to her front, beating her fists and kicking her legs in overwhelming frustration. Mark lunged forward to cover her with the remains of her dress and carried her out to thunderous applause.

"Please welcome our lovely guest from America, Lucille Lightfoot, escorted by someone who needs no introduction," called Mo's rehabilitated husband Harry, and Lucille made her Big Entrance with her hair spiked and wearing an almost transparent mini eggshell blue dress with darker blue and sequined panties clearly visible beneath it and matching blue and sequined six-inch heels.

The assemble was agog.

"Ohmigawd just look at those legs will you," squawked a woman, and for once every man present did what he was told instantly.

The heart of the Dragon was extinguished by the sheer presence of the woman walking towards her; she looked as if she knew she was looking at her replacement daughter-in-law.

Three hours later during dinner, with a lull while the trio playing classical music took a break for refreshments, Digger jumped up to the microphone and announced, here's someone to sing Happy Birthday to our darling baby Angie. The cake will be cut in the kitchen and served when we have tea or coffee."

Augustine came forward and sang the tribute displaying a trained voice. No-one clapped more vigorously than Lucille and Augustine noted that.

"And now," said Digger, "for an unrehearsed, unscheduled song from our distinguished American guest. Lucille, sing to me, our birthday girl and everyone here."

"Digger, don't be silly. They don't want an American spoiling a great Aussie party."

"Sing, sing," Mo and Harry chanted, a call quickly taken up.

"Very well," Lucille said. "Just one song and the birthday girl may choose it."

"Waltzing Matilda - we want you to become an Australian, Angie shouted and the twenty-four or twenty-five people in the two rooms cramming around the two tables clapped approvingly.

"Do you know it?"

"Yes, I think so, but I've never sung it."

A drunk yelled, "Then take her off."

He was hushed.

"Well?"

"Digger, there's no accompaniment. This is not like singing to you in the bath."

"Whoooh!"

"Oh my!"

"Hot totty!"

"Digger you old ram," came the shouts and Augustine was pressing her flaming cheeks.

"Give me the microphone, Digger," Lucille said, walking up to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen - Lucille Lightfoot, one of the finest singers in the land," he said, and handed over the microphone.

Lucille looked a little nervous, but opened strongly and was quickly into it. Her richly toned voice rang out and the conversations died as half-listening people turned to give the American belle their full attention.

It was an impressive presentation and she was cheered, with cries of 'More, More!"

"It's only fair that she should sing 'The Star Spangled Banner," someone called.

The call was unanimous.

"If you don't mind, I find the anthem is difficult as a soloist. I'm substituting another great American song, 'America the Beautiful'.

"Lucille, may I join you?" Augustine called, standing.

"Yes, please do."

"And me?" Mo called.

"Yes," Lucille responded, being unaware Mo had a 'voice'.

They sang - it sounded good to them and their audience loved it and the threesome group hugged.

Digger photographed then before they became aware he was doing that and they posed for another two shots, but it was later decided the first was far and away the best photo.

The visitors headed back to Sydney at 8:30 in the morning to a noisy farewell. The aircraft had to be serviced before being handed over for another charter at noon.

"Come again and stay a 3-day weekend," Augustine said kissing Lucille goodbye. "If Digger can't hire an aircraft at times to suit, Edward or I will fly in and collect you and return you; there's little point in spending half the weekend driving - it's almost 500 km from here to Sydney by road."

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