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Authors: Fern Michaels

Kentucky Heat (5 page)

BOOK: Kentucky Heat
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A huge round table held the latest law periodicals and a monstrous bowl of fresh fruit. He found himself grinning when he saw a copy of
People
magazine. Hatch did love Hollywood gossip, his father had said once. A sofa that looked comfortable enough to nap in and two deep, comfortable chairs flanked the round table. Nick tried them out, bouncing on each of them. Comfortable but not so comfortable clients would want to stay beyond a reasonable length of time. At six hundred bucks an hour, why would they even want to sit down? He laughed.
Nick was still laughing when he walked the length and breadth of the new-looking office that still had his father's name on the door. It was, according to the walk off, thirty feet by twenty-five feet. A monster room.
He loved the rich paneling, the perfectly hung drapes, the matching fabric on the furniture that complemented the deep, chocolate carpet. The green plants added a human touch, as did the ornate and colorful fish tank in the corner. Hatch had deliberately put four fish in the tank. A tiny plaque glued to the side said,
Bode, Hunt, Hatch, Hank.
He stared at the fish swimming so gracefully in their tank.
The bookshelves were elegant and matched the burnished paneling. It all smelled so new. So unused. Nick knew that had his father moved into these offices, he would have made a mess of it within minutes. A working mess that only he understood.
Right then, right that very second, Nick wished with all his heart that he had gone to college as his father wanted him to do. “Go to college, son, get your degree, and then you can decide what you want to do.” He'd gone on to say there was a world beyond the farm and the horses. A world he needed to explore before he committed to a life of horse breeding.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to bring the memory into sharper focus. His father had looked so sad that day. His voice wasn't like his usual voice either. It had been sad, too. Nick blinked the memory away.
He stared ahead at a door carved into the paneling across the room. He was like a little kid when he stood before it, his hand on the brass knob. Inside was a bathroom so elegantly appointed he found himself sucking in his breath. A glass-enclosed shower, thick, thirsty-looking towels, a toilet raised off the floor. He bent over to peer under it before he gingerly sat down. The vanity basin with its walled mirror would be the envy of any woman. He preened in front of it, running his fingers through his dark curls. He looked down then and saw the yellow wall-to-wall carpeting. Hatch did love yellow according to his father. It had something to do with corn and reservations.
A second door in the bathroom led to a closet that was bigger than his room and bath back at Blue Diamond Farms. Everything was built-in—shoe racks, drawers for everything imaginable. A chair, table, and lamp, and a small kitchen that was so perfectly camouflaged he did a double take. A hideout, for when his father didn't want to sit in his office or maybe wished to hide from Hatch. The guy did have a wacky sense of humor. The same intricate phone system was on a long table with stacks and stacks of yellow legal pads. Cups of pencils, pens, trays of paper clips and rubber bands were neatly lined up. But it was the picture on the wall, blown up to ten times its original size, that made him double over and roll all the way across the room. Laughing and gasping for breath he finally managed to get up and salute the picture in the elegant gold frame. “Here's to you, Miss Priceless,” Nick said smartly.
The name Miss Priceless belonged to a duck. On a bet, Hatch had kept a duck egg between his thighs for five days. The morning of the sixth day, a baby duck broke its way through the shell and proclaimed Hatch as its mother. Hence the name Hatch. The story, the way his father had told it over and over, was one of Nick's favorite memories.
An identical picture was hanging in the attic back at the farm. His mother had refused to allow it to be hung in the house.
“I miss you, Dad. Seeing all this makes me wonder if you made a mistake. In a way I can see you here, and in another way I can't. Bet you never thought those guys would make a shrine to you. It must have been nice to have friends like that. Friends that would do all this in your memory. Guess you know I never had any real friends. No time. I feel close to you here for some reason. Back at the farm the feeling isn't so strong.” Absentmindedly, Nick reached down for the beer that was sitting on a tiny white napkin. He hadn't heard Medusa come in. Spooky.
Beer in hand, Nick walked around to the back of the desk and sat down in his father's chair. He wondered what it would feel like actually to be a lawyer sitting here waiting for a client. “I can see you sitting here, Dad. I really can.”
“
It's not too late, Nick. You can always go to college. Hatch and the others will help you. You wouldn't have to sweat your ass off working and studying like we did. You could go first class, Nick. I bet if you went to school summers, you could ace the whole thing in half the time it took us.
”
Nick whirled around, his face a mask of panic. “Am I dreaming or did you just talk to me?”
“
What do you think? I like to mosey on over here every so often to see how the guys are doing. I get an itch in my git-along if you know what I mean.
”
“Yeah, yeah, Dad, I know what you mean. I miss you, Dad. Are you . . . you know, keeping up with what's going on at the farm?”
“
Of course.
”
“Did I do wrong coming here? You said if I ever found myself needing a lawyer, this was the place to come.”
“
I did say that. Trust Hatch. I'm sorry I never told you about the trust fund those guys set up for you. I wanted to, but the time never seemed right. I want you to have it all, Nick, but I want you to earn it. You'll know when the time is right to use it. The time has to be exactly right. Do you understand what I'm telling you?
”
“I understand, Dad. How much money are we talking about? Do you know?”
“Of course I know. The last time I checked it was right around fifteen million. Hatch started it with Flyby's winnings after taxes. Those guys are something else. The trust has been growing from the day you were born. Among other things, that big Indian has a streak of luck in him two miles long. Everything he touches turns to gold. He would have made an excellent stockbroker. By the way, that chair fits you perfectly. Better than it would ever have fit me.”
Nick heard the tinkling bells and sat up. “I guess I fell asleep.”
“I guess you did. Did you have a nice conversation with Hunter?”
“Ma'am?”
“Your father, Nicholas. Did you enjoy speaking with him?”
“How . . .”
Medusa smiled as she picked up the beer bottle. “Shunpus is waiting for you in his office. Come along.”
His brain felt fuzzy as he staggered after Medusa to Hatch's office, where he sat down in a deep comfortable chair. The big man stared at him with sad eyes as he waited for Nick to speak, the contents of the folder spread out in front of him.
Nick struggled to clear his throat. “That . . . those papers . . . I think . . . they were just an excuse to come here. Right now I feel like my world has been turned inside out. I wanted to come here many times when things piled up on me. I know I could have called, but it isn't the same. Mom . . . Mom doesn't . . . she won't ask for help. Dad was different in that respect. When I think back I don't know if I was a good son to him or not. I was torn between the two of them. Don't get me wrong here, Dad loved the farm and the horses. My mother loved them more,
loves
them more. They consumed her. They still do. In trying to please both of them I shortchanged all three of us.
“I've been thinking a lot about the past, the present, and what the future holds,” he continued. “It all came to a head when I got back home yesterday morning. After the disbelief, I got pissed. Royally pissed. I was looking for something, anything to, you know, fight back. And there it was,” he said, pointing to the papers in front of Hatch. “I realized something else on the plane coming here. I want a life. A real life. I have a wife, and I want kids someday. I love the farm, the horses. Why do I have to make a choice? Dad did that. What did it get him? Unhappiness and an early death. While I was sitting in his offices, I must have dozed off, and I had this dream about him. It was weird. It felt real. Like he was right there. I even thought I smelled his aftershave. Do you think I'm losing my mind, Hatch?”
“No.” Hatch smiled. “I go in there from time to time and, like you, end up dozing off and dreaming about him, too. He was a hell of a friend. The kind you never forget.”
Nick fidgeted in his chair. “It wasn't a dream, was it?”
Hatch shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to kick your uncles' asses off their farm? I can do that in a heartbeat. All your sister has to do is sign the papers. This other stuff, your mother's suits and countersuits, that's a different ball game. I can tell you right now, nothing good is going to come of that. When family starts attacking family, it's all over. No one wins.”
Nick nodded. He jerked his head sideways. “It felt good in there.”
Hatch grinned. “Did it now?”
“Yeah. Dad said the chair fit me better than it ever fit him. What do you suppose he meant?”
“What do you think it meant?”
“That maybe I belong here. That maybe if I'm good enough, I could sit in that chair for real.”
“Well hot damn, boy, that's a real good assumption. It would take a hell of a lot of commitment for someone to take on a challenge like that. Hard work, no sleep, eating on the fly, nose to the grindstone seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I don't know too many people who would commit to something like that. I know some people who could help you if you're one of those dedicated people. Are you?”
Am I?
Nick closed his eyes before heaving a mighty sigh. “Yeah, I am.” He felt good. The words sounded just right to his ears.
“What about your new wife, your sister, and, of course, your mother and the farm? And what do you want me to do with all of this?” Hatch asked as he rustled the papers on his desk.
Funny, he thought. “I . . . I don't know. I thought I did, but now I don't.” He gave Hatch a sheepish smile. “Dad always used to say when you don't know what to do about something, do nothing.” He sat back in his chair, his emotions churning. “I have thirty-eight credits. I took night classes over my mother's objections. Then it got to be too much, and I couldn't continue. What do you suggest?”
Hatch rubbed his hands together, his face gleeful. “Open the door, Nick.” His voice boomed through the building. “Emergency meeting!”
Nick looked around at the angry-sounding tinkling bells. “We have a twenty-five-thousand-dollar communication system so there is no need to bellow like a wild bull, Shunpus,” Medusa chastised, as her tiny hands clapped shut over her equally tiny ears.
“Got your attention, didn't it? Take a seat, gentlemen. This is Nick Clay, Hunt's son. I know you know that, I just want to start off right,” Hatch boomed. “This boy has decided he wants to finish up his undergraduate education and go on to law school so he can sit in his father's chair. I say we make this happen. Between the three of us we can whittle his time down to almost nothing. We'll get him accepted, registered, office school him twenty-four hours a day. As of Monday morning of next week, the three of us shut down. The associates can take over. Nick is our top priority. What'ya say, guys? Let's get on the stick and start making some calls. Call in every favor that's owed us. If we have to endow, we endow. Whatever it takes to get the okay to do this. Medusa, find him a place to live. He's not going to be there much, but he needs an address. You okay with this, kid?”
Nick's tongue felt twice its normal size. All he could do was nod.
“Does it feel right?” Bode Jessup asked, clapping him on the back.
Nick nodded a second time.
Hank Mitchum pumped his hand up and down. “Jesus, I can't believe we're finally going to get a real Clay in the office. Good move, Nick. Your dad would be real proud of you.”
“Then let's get to it, people. Medusa, call the car service and have them pick up Nick. Call the airport and have our pilot file a flight plan. Nick, he'll wait till you have all your ducks lined up and fly you and your wife back. Now, get the hell out of here so we can get to work. Oh, bring all your transcripts with you. Have a good flight.”
He was dismissed. His eyes bugging from his head, he allowed Medusa to lead him from the office. “They can do this? They can actually . . . you know . . . teach me, help me. Law professors will actually come here and do it all one-on-one? That boggles the mind.”
“You sweet, darling boy, of course they can do it. The word
endowment
is a very powerful word to law schools. It is Shunpus's favorite word when he wants something. For some reason, it always works. More important, they
want
to do this for you. You will have to work very hard, for they will not let up on you. When they said twenty-four hours a day, they meant twenty-four hours a day.”
BOOK: Kentucky Heat
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