Kentucky Rich (31 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Rich
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“I decided to come early so I could take Mama's remains with me when I leave. I thought it was the right thing to do. The truth is, I came to fix up this place. I'm going to bring some sunshine into your lives. I made a stop at High Point, North Carolina, and picked out new furniture. It's going to arrive tomorrow morning. I ordered curtains, carpets, everything I could find to lighten and brighten this place up. I even got you new dishes and silverware. And a ton of green plants. I want your promise to water them after I leave. Did you get a housekeeper?”
“Yep, and she's a whiz. She cooks like a dream, and the house is clean but shabby. How long are you staying?”
“Just a few days. Are you okay with the lawsuit and everything?”
“Hell no, we're not okay with it. I'll burn this place down before I turn it over to those . . . those people. I mean it.”
“I don't think it's going to come to that, Pyne. I sure wish I knew what that family's reaction was to our court papers. They must be jumping out of their skin knowing the three of us are Seth Coleman's children with a claim to their precious Texas holdings. DNA is a wonderful thing. If we win this case, and Clem thinks we can win, how do you think you'll feel if we get the whole ball of wax?”
“Look, we didn't start all this legal crap, they did. We would have let sleeping dogs lie. All we want is this place. It's our home, and we aren't giving it up,” Rhy said.
“I guess that's pretty much how they feel about their home. Clem said their attorney wants to talk. We've been stalling. I'm not sure why. Probably to make them sweat would be my guess.”
“Pyne and I would never rip anyone's home out from under them. When it looked like that was going to happen to us, we made the decision to pack up and go to work for one of the other farms. All we know is horses. They've been our life. This whole thing is making us crazy. We don't want to fight our relatives. All we want is to be left alone. Can't you undo this, Nealy?”
“I don't think so, Rhy. Clem said that paper Pa . . . Josh Coleman had—the one that said Seth Coleman signed off on the property for cash when he was in dire straits—was a forgery. If she knows it was a forgery, then the Colemans know it, too. Pa . . . Josh Coleman, rather, was tricky, just like his brother. They each tried to outsmart the other, and this is the result. We don't have any choice but to let the lawyers settle it for us. The only one in the whole clan who was decent was their sister Sallie. I keep meaning to hire a detective to find the other sister Peggy and her family, but something always comes up and I put it off. There were other sisters, too, but no one knows where they are. I'm hoping Peggy knows, and we can start searching for them. If we have more family, I want to know them. For all we know they might need our help. That's what families are supposed to do, help each other. I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's like beating a dead horse. What will be, will be.”
 
 
Nealy stood back to admire her handiwork. She could hardly wait for her brothers to come up for supper so they could admire her decorating skills. Thank God for fast-drying paint, she chortled. She walked around the kitchen, the same kitchen that had once been her sanctuary when she lived here so long ago. Back then it had been dreary and dismal, with ancient appliances and dark woodwork. Now it glistened with fresh white paint and green-checkered curtains at the windows and door. State-of-the-art appliances graced both sides of the room. Underneath the cabinets a coffee machine, a stereo unit, and an electric can opener winked at her in the bright light overhead. The table and matching chairs were pickled oak, almost white in color, with hunter green cushions and place mats. Overhead a multicolored Tiffany lamp gave off miniature rainbows in the late-afternoon sun. The new dishes had clusters of bright red cherries in the center. The silverware had scarlet handles that matched the cherries. The centerpiece was a bright red bowl full of Gerbera daisies. Everything looked warm and cozy, not to mention inviting. Delicious smells wafted toward her. Pot roast, potato pancakes, velvety gravy, emerald green snap peas, garden salad, and fresh homemade bread were on the dinner menu. Nealy eyed the luscious chocolate cake with thick frosting sitting on a rack on the counter.
Nealy looked down at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes until it was time for her brothers to wash up for dinner. She made good use of the time as she wandered from room to room, admiring her handiwork. It all looked light and inviting. She'd had to pay extra for the delivery people to cart off all the old stuff, but she didn't care. Her brothers didn't need any reminders of the past.
They were going to love the sixty-one-inch television set and the stereo unit tucked into one of the cabinets. Deep comfortable La-Z-Boy lounge chairs graced each side of the fireplace, whose mantel now held dried flowers, candles, and a photograph of herself and her brothers. A sofa, one shade darker than the loungers, took up the entire far wall. The old, dingy, smelly brown carpet was gone. In its place was light beige carpeting. Thick, luscious green plants filled out the corners, while a bowl of fresh flowers graced the light oak coffee table. Sheer curtains with hunter green draperies hanging at the sides finished off the room. A man's room. Comfortable and warm. Inviting. Homey. Tears burned Nealy's eyes as she stared around the room. If only it had been like this growing up. Once she'd seen a picture of a young girl lying on the floor in front of a fireplace, coloring in a book. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to conjure up the picture from her memory. There had been a fat little dog lying next to the little girl. She'd never had a coloring book or crayons or a fat little dog and if her father had caught her lying on the floor, he would have tanned her hide. She shook her head to drive away the memories. She turned just in time to see her brothers' faces as they stared about the room.
“God Almighty, is this the same room?” Rhy said, slapping at his head.
“Looks good enough to be in a magazine,” Pyne said, flopping down on one of the lounge chairs. “Get a gander at that television set,” he said in awe. “You're spoiling us, Nealy.”
“That's what sisters are supposed to do. Now I can leave tomorrow and know you're living in a regular house that isn't dark like our past. Make sure you keep fresh flowers around. Flowers make all the difference. How did you like the kitchen?”
“It's too pretty to eat in,” Rhy said. “We'll manage, though. You did good, sis. Real good.”
Nealy beamed.
“We want to talk to you about something, Nealy.”
“Spit it out. Did I do something wrong?”
“No, of course not. Rhy and I have been talking, and we'd like you to change your mind about . . . Ma. We'd like you to leave her here. It doesn't seem right to, you know, dig her up and move her. If you leave her here, you'll always be able to come back here and . . . you know, visit, talk, whatever people do in cemeteries. Rhy and I have always gone out there and mumbled and muttered when things go bad. It's important to us, Nealy.”
“I thought . . . I didn't know . . . That's fine with me. I just didn't want her to be alone. We'll leave things as they are then. Do you take flowers to the grave? You're supposed to do that, you know.”
“We do. We aren't
totally
ignorant, Nealy.”
“I didn't say you were. It's just that men don't think about things like that. We don't know anything about our mother, and I find that very sad. We don't even know if she liked flowers. We don't know if she liked to read books or what her favorite color was. Did she like to bake cookies? Did she have a favorite dress? Did she pray? We should know those things, but we don't. I'm going to make it my business to track down Mama's family. When I hire that detective to find our Aunt Peggy, I'm going to ask him to find out about Mama. Do you think that's a good idea? I bet we have
hundreds
of people out there who belong to us. People we don't even know about. I'm going to find them. Every single one.”
“Attagirl, Nealy. Now can we eat?”
Nealy linked her arms with her brothers. “It's nice having a family, isn't it?”
25
Nealy stared at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. Where had the summer and autumn gone? she wondered. It all seemed like such a blur. Christmas and the New Year loomed ahead of her. Not that holidays meant much at the farm, they never had. Anything festive, anything out of the ordinary, had to be planned weeks, sometimes months in advance. The farm ran on a schedule that had to be adhered to regardless of social obligations and festivities. She grimaced when she likened the farm schedule to the United States Postal System. Mail had to be delivered regardless of the weather. These days they even delivered mail on holidays and weekends if one cared to pay for it.
This year Emmie and Buddy were going on a cruise for the holidays and Nick was going to try his hand at, or as he put it, his feet, skiing with Willow in Colorado. Clem was going to Vegas, and Smitty was heading for New York to do some heavy-duty shopping. Ruby had medical appointments scheduled at Johns Hopkins, and she and Metaxas would spend the holidays together and leave late Christmas Day. She'd assured Nealy they were just checkup appointments, but she had to keep them. With everyone gone, Nealy would be alone, without even a dog to keep her company.
Life, at that moment, Nealy decided, was at a standstill. There had been several glitches where the lawsuit and her family were concerned. Clem had suffered through a ruptured appendix and then peritonitis set in, laying her low for over a month. Within a week of Clem's return to work, Valentine Mitchell had been run off the road by a drunken driver. Her injuries were severe enough to put her in traction for five weeks. She, too, had recovered, and the suit was progressing. Interrogatories and depositions had been taken and filed, and a court date scheduled for January 20, a little over a month away. Living with anxiety had become a way of life these past months. Nealy just knew in her gut the court date would be the day Misty Blue gave birth to the foal that was to go to Ruby. That was more important than any court date. She made a mental note to ask Clem about a possible postponement.
Nealy roll-called the list of things she'd taken care of during the summer months. She'd hired a private detective to track down her mother's people, with no results. The detective hadn't had any success finding her aunt Peggy's family either. Did they all drop off the face of the earth? Was it possible there wasn't any family? Maybe she should go to Austin, Texas, herself and start her own search. She could do the same thing in Las Vegas. Nick said the one-man detective agency was bleeding her dry, and she needed to get rid of him. He was probably right. Nick was right about most things.
Then there was Kendrick Bell. She realized just how much she cared about him the week he left to return to New York. He called daily, usually late at night, and they would talk for hours. These days she felt like she knew him as well as she knew herself. He hadn't insisted on visits, nor had he pushed himself on her. She thought he was waiting till he was fully recovered because he admitted to days that weren't as good as he would like. He'd gone from semiretirement to full retirement the first of October. At one point he had confessed to wishing he had done it sooner.
Just last night she'd asked him what he was going to do for the holidays, and he'd said he just wanted to sit by the fire and read some good books.
“Smitty,” she bellowed at the top of her lungs.
“For God's sake, Nealy, what's wrong?” Smitty bellowed in return.
“I want you to make me a plane reservation. I'm going to New Jersey. The sooner the better. I'll need a rental car, too.”
Smitty clapped her hands. “Well, good for you, Nealy! What date do you want on your return ticket?”
“Leave it open. Sometime after the New Year, I guess. I'm going to see Kendrick.” The words rolled off her tongue as though she'd announced she was taking the first shuttle to the moon.
“Then I'd recommend you get yourself some new duds. Or were you planing on wearing that uniform of yours?”
“You mean my jeans and shirts?”
“Exactly. You know you could shop first. There's a very high-end shopping mall in New Jersey called the Short Hills Mall. Lots of designer, pricey shops. You could dude yourself up to look like a million bucks.”
“Why would I want to do that, Smitty?”
Smitty rolled her eyes. “That's what women do when they want to snare a man. They start with underwear and work to the outside. I still can't believe you don't have pierced ears. Women get their belly buttons pierced, and you still don't have pierced ears. Having pierced ears is a good way to store diamonds. You know, if you have no more room for your
jools,”
she drawled.
“First of all, I'm not trying to snare a man and my underwear is fine, thank you very much. Get me some maps and the directions to Watchung from the airport and to the mall. I might buy some perfume.”
“Honey, you need more than perfume. Snazz up, blow his socks off. Be a goddamn woman for a change. You need
lessons.”
“I do not! In case you forgot,
I was
married.”
“All right, then, a refresher course. You need to go on the prowl; you need to strut and learn how to stalk a man. Sexily, of course. You
clomp,
Nealy. It's those damn boots you wear all the time.”
“What else is wrong with me?” Nealy demanded through clenched teeth.
“Other than all that, you're fine. Okay, okay, one open-ended ticket coming up. Tomorrow or late today?”
“Tomorrow will be fine. I think I'll go into town to have my hair done. Maybe I'll pick up something new to wear on the plane.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Smitty grinned.
“Sooner or later us late bloomers blossom up,” Nealy said, tweaking Smitty's cheek.
 
 
Nealy stopped at a Mobil station to fill the tank of the rented Lincoln Town Car. According to the map Smitty had provided her with, she was now on Route 22 and about ten miles from Kendrick's house. She allowed herself to look in the rearview mirror while the attendant filled her gas tank. The entire backseat as well as the floor were filled with boxes and bags of new clothing, gifts, and Christmas decorations. But it was the front seat that held the most important gift. She bent over to peer inside. A wide smile stretched from ear to ear.
The back of the pickup truck waiting at the end of the lot held a twelve-foot Douglas fir and several evergreen wreaths that were completely decorated. By paying extra, the tree people had agreed to follow her and set up the tree in Kendrick's living room.
She felt excited as she paid for her gas and turned on the car's engine. Damn, it was cold. But it was supposed to be cold for Christmas, which was just days away. Now that she was just a spit away from Ken's house she wondered what she would do if he wasn't home. What if he had guests? What if? Surprises were just that, surprises. It was too late now to worry about what-ifs.
She thought about the first Christmas she'd spent with Hunt and how she'd cut the tree down herself. She'd ended up with a bush, but the kids loved it. So long ago. Another life.
Nealy turned on her right blinker. God, she'd almost missed the turnoff. She drove steadily for another fifteen minutes up steep, winding roads before she came to Lotus Crescent Drive, where she turned left. Ken had told her there were only three houses on the dead-end street, and his was the one in the middle.
It was a storybook house perched on the side of the mountain. Tudor in style with lots of gingerbread and diamond-paned windows. In the summer months the brown vines climbing the house would be green with shiny ivy. It looked like a house that cried for a family, not a solitary bachelor.
Inside the six-thousand-square-foot house, Kendrick Bell was adding another log to the fire when he heard the sound of a car. Probably the meter reader, he thought as he walked over to the front window. His eyebrows shot upward at the same moment his jaw dropped.
Nealy!
He watched her get out of the car and look around. He could feel his heart fluttering in his chest. She'd finally come to him. Something he'd wished for, prayed for.
It is a season of miracles,
he thought happily. He noticed the truck, then, and the two men hefting a huge Christmas tree from the bed. Nealy was bringing him Christmas.
She was moving to the passenger side of the car, opening the door, reaching in for something. Probably her purse. And then he lost sight of her as the two men carrying the huge Douglas fir passed in front of her. The doorbell rang. He tripped over his feet in his haste to get to the door before it rang a second time. He pulled it open, stood back, and waited.
“Merry Christmas, Ken,” Nealy said as she stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I brought Christmas. This,” she said, handing over a large basket, “is my gift to you. Good, you have a fire. Take it over there, and I'll close the door.”
“Where do you want this, mister?”
His eyes on Nealy's, the basket in his hands, he turned. “Wherever you think it will look best. Any corner. The middle of the floor is good, too. Whatever.”
Ken was all thumbs as he worked the top of the huge wicker basket. Two shiny, dark heads popped up. They yipped and wiggled to be free of their tight cocoon of warmth.
“This is Gracie and this one is Slick. They're shepherds. Six weeks and three days old. Merry Christmas, Ken. They come with a lot of gear and instructions. I think they're probably hungry and in need of some water.”
Nealy looked around as she pretended not to see Ken's wet eyes as he cuddled both dogs against his chest. “Nice place you have here. It's almost too perfect. Uh-oh, looks like your tree is going in the middle of the floor.”
“The middle is good. That way you can see it from all angles. Jesus, Nealy, I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you got me two dogs! I guess my next question should be
why?”
“I hated the thought of you spending the holidays alone, and since I was going to be alone, too, it didn't make sense when we could be together. I wanted to surprise you, but on the way here I realized one should never do things like this. I think every scenario in the world flashed through my mind. You know, all the what-ifs.”
“I'm so glad you came. I can't tell you how I dreaded these holidays. Other years it wasn't so bad because I was working and there was always a Christmas party of some sort at one of the restaurants every single night. This is so much nicer. How long can you stay?”
“I'm yours till after the New Year. Do you think you can handle me that long?”
“Absolutely. I think you're going to have to help me with these dogs. As much as I've always wanted one, I don't have the first clue as to what to do with them.”
“They're just like people, children in this case. The first thing you do is love them and then you feed them, see to their needs, love them even more, and they will love you unconditionally. It doesn't get any better than that.”
“No, I guess it doesn't. Do you want to tip those guys? My hands are kind of full at the moment.”
“I already did. Thanks,” Nealy called to the men's retreating backs. “Oooh, it smells so good, doesn't it? I just love the smell of balsam. I brought some wreaths for your front door and windows. We can put them up later. Now we have to take care of these little guys.”
Dinner over, the kitchen cleaned, and the tree decorated, Ken dusted his hands dramatically as the two pups chased each other around the living room. “I think we earned ourselves a nice nightcap and a comfortable spot on the couch in front of the fire.”
“I think that's a great idea, Ken. The pups are wonderful, aren't they? Watch, in about five minutes one or the other is going to fizzle out, and then they'll curl up by the fire and sleep all cuddled up next to each other.”
“We could do that, too.”
“Yes, we could,” Nealy said, flopping down on the sofa. She patted the space next to her. Ken eased himself down beside her. He reached for her hand.
“I'm so glad you came, Nealy. So, how do you like my place?”
“I think it's beautiful. I don't know why, but I thought it . . . you would have used a professional decorator. Men usually do. I guess I'm surprised at your good taste. It's obvious you like comfort,” Nealy said, referring to the deep chocolate sofa and equally deep, comfortable chairs scattered about the living room.
“Considering my circumstances, comfort was what I was looking forward to. My doctor is angry with me. He thinks I should be exercising, walking, doing activity things, and I try but . . .”
“You're afraid, is that it?”
“I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I am. There's something else I should tell you. You must be wondering . . . at least . . . damn, this isn't going to come out right. I'm just going to say it. In case you're wondering why I didn't . . . what's the expression the younger people use these days? Hit on you? I've been . . .”

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