Kentucky Rich (35 page)

Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Rich

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Emmie nodded as she measured coffee into the silver basket.

Satisfied that the coffee was perking, Emmie curled up in the wing chair in the breakfast nook. Maybe she should have told Willow and Nick the rest of her sorry tale. To what end? Some things were just better left alone. She looked out the window to watch her two favorite squirrels that she'd named Lizzie and Dizzy scamper across the deck railing to the huge bowl of pecans she kept on the picnic table on the deck. She'd tamed them to a degree. Oftentimes when she sat out on the deck with a book they'd come right up to her chair and beg for the nuts. They always scampered away and watched from a distance when Buddy would join her. She wondered why that was. Did they sense something in him that wasn't right? Were squirrels like dogs, good judges of character? Did it matter? Right now, nothing mattered, not the loss of Buddy or her mother's ugly decision to banish her.

Lizzie and Dizzy scurried across the railing, hopped onto the back of one of the deck chairs, and then onto the windowsill outside the breakfast nook. Their eyes shiny bright, their bushy tails swinging from side to side, they watched the sleeping girl who fed them every day and changed their daily water bowl on the steps of the deck. They chattered to one another as their little paws tapped on the glass for recognition. When none was forthcoming, they scampered away.

Upstairs, Nick perched on the edge of the bed, his head between his hands. He wanted to bawl, to kick and scream the way he'd done when he was a little boy. Always be responsible for your own actions. Words his father had taught him early on. Words he'd always heeded. Until now. How could he make this all come out right? He couldn't.

His mother had looked so tired, so weary. Ruby, too. Ruby had undergone chemotherapy and radiation treatments for a whole year. On the road to recovery, she still had to take her meds, still had to get plenty of rest, and he'd failed her, too. He should have called. Why didn't he? Because he didn't want to hear a lecture, didn't want to hear his mother say he was too young to marry someone he barely knew. He knew what he felt, what Willow felt, and that was enough for him. If only Misty Blue hadn't foaled early. If only Buddy hadn't left Emmie. If only, if only, if only. One week, one miserable goddamn week, and his whole life changed in a matter of minutes. Did it matter that he'd never, ever, taken a vacation? Did it matter that up until now he'd given his life to Blue Diamond Farms and the horses? What mattered was the week he'd taken for himself to get married. No matter what, he should have called. Somewhere far back in his mind he'd had the thought that when he and Willow returned there would be a second marriage, like both his mother and Maud had, with a reception for the farm workers. A tradition of sorts. One stinking, lousy phone call, and he wouldn't be sitting here ready to bawl his head off.

Bottom line . . . he should have called.

“We'll work this out, Nick,” Willow said, sitting down next to him on the bed. “I'm going to send the check back. Maybe I should take it back and try to talk to your mother. She used to like me. Maybe we can talk, woman to woman. It's worth a try, Nick. I hate seeing you so miserable.”

“I'm not just miserable. I'm fucking miserable, and it's my own fault. I'm in shock. I knew I should have called. Some small part of me wanted to, but the larger part of me said no, she'll demand I come home. Our trip was special in so many ways, my first-ever vacation, making love to you, getting married. I wanted to keep it close for as long as I could. I didn't want to share it with anyone but you. This is the result.”

“You aren't selfish, honey. And you can't take all the blame. I should have insisted you call your mother. I know your mom. I should have known how she'd react.” She cradled him against her. “First thing tomorrow, I'll take the check back and then drive into town and look for a job. There's that new hotel. They were advertising for a chef. We won't starve, Nick.”

Nick flopped backward onto the bed and laughed bitterly. “Money is the least of my problems, Willow. I'm fixed financially for the rest of my life. Emmie is, too. Hell, between us we could buy and operate our own farm. Maybe that's what we'll do if Emmie is agreeable. I want your promise that you won't go to my mother. If you want to send the check back, that's okay, and it is your decision. Just so you know, my mother never backs down. Never.”

“She's not like that, Nick. I used to talk to her for hours in the kitchen. It's like we're talking about two different people here. The woman I know is nothing like what you're describing.”

“Don't delude yourself. I'm her son. I should know. Everyone wears two faces. There's the family side where it all hangs loose and you know someone inside and out, and then there is the public side, where that person lets you see only what they want you to see. You do it, I do it, everyone does it. Sometimes we do it consciously and sometimes we do it unconsciously. How is Emmie?”

“She's hurting, Nick. How do you expect her to feel? She said she didn't see it coming. What kind of man would do something like that? And in public.” She told him about Emmie's confession.

“Jesus. I'm just spoiling for a fight. I should get on the next plane to Ohio and beat the crap out of that sorry son of a bitch. I don't care if he is deaf.”

“That's not what you're going to do, Nick. This is Emmie's problem, and we aren't going to do anything unless she asks us to intervene, which she isn't going to do. Right now we are going to go downstairs and have some coffee and talk about our future. We have to start making plans.”

“I don't know if I can leave here, Willow. I have to be around horses. It's my life. It's all I know.”

“I didn't say anything about leaving or you not being around horses. I said we need to talk about what we're going to do. That includes Emmie.”

“Okay. Listen, I just want to shower and change. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I'll unpack our suitcases and meet you downstairs.”

In the bathroom with the door closed and locked, Nick broke down and sobbed, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I'm sorry I let you down,
Dad.”

In the foyer, Willow reached for her jacket. A breath of fresh air might be just what she needed. A walk around the yard might clear her head a little. She was on her second lap when she noticed the mailman trying to jam mail into Emmie's box and having a hard time of it. She jogged forward and held out her hands. The after-Christmas sale catalogs were heavy. She staggered under their weight and on into the house, where she shrugged out of her jacket, the huge pile of mail secure in her arms. She called out to Emmie as she entered the kitchen. “I brought your mail in. Nick seems to think you might have some bills that need to be paid. Oh, Emmie, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were asleep.”

“I guess I dozed off. It's not a problem. Our coffee is ready. I've been meaning to go out and pick up the mail, but I simply didn't want to make the effort. I guess it did pile up. Two weeks' worth from the look of things. I'll go through it later.”

“No, let's go through it now,” Nick said, entering the kitchen. “I don't want to see you get a bad credit rating. You need to pay your bills on time. I would like some coffee, ladies.”

“Oh yes, sir, kind sir, it will be my pleasure to serve you some coffee. Would you like me to whip up a double chocolate cake while I'm at it?” Willow teased.

“Nope. We ate too much rich food on vacation. Coffee will do just fine,” Nick mumbled as he sorted through the first-class mail. “You have a certified letter one of your neighbors signed for. Guess they just stuck it back in your box. It came sometime last week. It's from Josh Coleman's lawyer, the one Mom sent packing. You remember, the ornery, dumb one who couldn't get anything right. Do you want me to open it?”

“Be my guest, then chuck it. I don't want anything to do with those people and all those crazy lawyers. All lawyers do is bleed you dry.”

“Well, lookee here, Emmie. Don't be so quick to chuck this one. Seems that ornery old buzzard we all thought was on the dumb side is suffering from Alzheimer's. This letter is from his son informing us and apologizing at the same time for the mistakes his father made. Remember the day you signed off on SunStar Farms, Josh Coleman's farm in Virginia? You signed it over to Ma's brothers. Right?”

“Yes. So what?”

“So what is this. The filings were never made in the timely manner the courts require. They are now null and void, and you have to sign a new set that is enclosed. Do you want to sign these, Emmie? You don't have to, you know.”

“Why wouldn't I want to sign them, Nick?”

“Think about it. Ma just booted our asses out of Blue Diamond Farms. You own a farm. We can go there and take it over. Between the two of us, we could bring that farm up to snuff.”

“What about Uncle Rhy and Uncle Pyne?”

“What about them, Emmie?”

“If we take it over, even though it was willed to me, what will happen to them?”

“I don't know. I suppose they could work for us. I heard Ma say she would make them full partners at Blue Diamond Farms if they wanted to join her. I don't know how anyone in their right mind could turn down an offer like that.”

“Isn't SunStar tied up in that legal mess Mom is dealing with?”

“I don't know, Emmie. Mom never said much about it to me. The lawyers are handling it all. Look, it's our answer to our futures. Do you want to stay here and cry yourself to death over Buddy and Mom, or do you want to get on with your life?”

“Don't we need a lawyer? We can't use the one Mom uses because it will be a conflict of interest. The whole thing is so messy I'm not sure I want to get involved. Can we think about it?”

“Hey, I know a lawyer. Dad had these two friends he went to law school with. They still call me on a regular basis. The one named Hatch is an Indian and bigger than life. According to Dad, his billable hours are in the millions. He loved that big guy. If he hadn't married Mom, he would have joined the firm. Another friend of Dad's is Bode Jessup. He's a full partner. Dad said if I ever needed a good lawyer, to call Hatch. According to Dad he's the best of the best. His first name is Shunpus. Guess it's an Indian name. He's our man. Dad used to talk about those guys all the time. Sometimes I think he thought he made a mistake by not going with them into the firm. What do you think, Emmie?”

“Mom . . .”

“Emmie, for God's sake, we aren't doing anything illegal. SunStar was left to you. It's yours. Where is it written you have to give it to Rhy and Pyne? Mom told you to sign off on it, and you did. Did you ever think about what you did and the why of it?”

“A few times,” Emmie mumbled. “Buddy said I was stupid for doing it. He called Mom a dictator sometimes. Let's think about it before we make a decision. I don't see anything wrong with getting in touch with your father's friend. See what he thinks. If he thinks it's the right thing to do, we'll do it. You know, of course, that Mom will have a fit.”

“That's a given. Guess we'll have to live with that, too. If you two fine young women think you can manage without me, I'd like to fly out to Santa Fe and talk to Hatch in person. I'm not comfortable discussing something like this on the phone. I could fly out early tomorrow, stay overnight, and be back the following morning. You okay with that?”

Willow nodded.

“Okay, Nick.”

“Then it's a go. I'll go upstairs, pack, and make a reservation. An early dinner would be good, or I could take you ladies out to eat. Decide and tell me the verdict when I come back down.”

“Okay, honey. We want to go out.”

“That was quick.”

“You know us women. We can make snap decisions. Right, Emmie?”

“You bet.” Emmie smiled.

While much research went into this book, it is still a work of fiction. In the interests of entertainment, I have taken the liberty of stretching the boundaries of the Thoroughbred breeding and racing world to allow my characters the freedom to break some of the “rules” and “traditions” that govern the industry.

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
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ISBN: 978-0-8217-7234-8

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