Kentucky Heat (4 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Heat
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“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 horse farm in Virginia? You signed it over to Ma's brothers. Right?”
“Yes, my uncles. 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, which is enclosed. Do you want to sign these, Emmie? You don't have to, you know.”
“Why wouldn't I want to sign them?”
“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?”
“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 with 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 his 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 the 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 through the roof. Dad loved that big guy. If he hadn't married Mom, he would have joined the firm. Another friend of Dad's is Bode Jessup. 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 into the firm with them. 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 even think about it when she told you to do it? No, you just signed the documents because she told you to sign them. 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.
“I think I'm going to change my clothes if we're going out to dinner. Do you need me to do anything?”
“No. Go up with Nick and change. I need to sit here and do some thinking.”
Nick was right, Emmie thought. She'd blindly signed off on SunStar Farms when her grandfather died because her mother told her to do it. It never occurred to her to question her mother's orders. It was all done to make sure her brothers always had a place to live. “You don't need that farm, Emmie,” was what she'd said. “There are too many bad memories attached to SunStar Farms. Besides, you can't uproot your uncles from the only home they've ever known.” So, she'd signed off on it because she was a good, dutiful daughter and always did what she was told.
Now, according to Nick, the legal papers she'd signed were null and void. She still owned the farm. If she wanted to, she could take possession of it like Nick said. If she wanted to.
2
Nick looked around the busy airport for some sign of Hatch Littletree. A grin as wide as all outdoors stretched across his face the moment he spotted the big man. They exchanged grins as Hatch lumbered toward him, opened his arms, and gave him a body-crunching, manly hug.
His father had told him Shunpus Littletree, nicknamed Hatch, because of an extraordinary feat back in college, was as big as a grizzly bear but as gentle as a pussycat. According to his father, Hatch was a full-blooded Indian who worshiped success and fine things. He was also generous to a fault, with one of the biggest, most lucrative law practices in the West. The last time Nick had seen the big man was at his father's funeral. He'd watched in awe when the gentle giant wept as his father's casket was lowered into the ground.
Hatch had called a lot those first months, just to talk, to reminisce. The calls tapered off later on, to be followed with e-mails and short, handwritten notes. To this day they continued.
“You look so much like your dad you're spooking me, boy. You have any luggage?” The big man boomed so loud people turned around to see where the sound was coming from. “How's your mother?”
“She's fine, Hatch. She's part of the reason I'm here. Dad always said if he was in trouble, you were the first person he would go to. He told me to remember your name and to call you if I ever needed a smart attorney.”
“Hunt was right. I'm the best. I don't believe in being modest. I'm so damn good at what I do I can hardly believe it myself sometimes. Your dad hated the law, but he would have made a damn fine attorney. I couldn't believe it when he said he wanted to stay on the farm and work with horses. I don't know if you know this or not, but during the last year of his life, he came out here and we hung out together for five straight days. He asked me if the job offer was still good, and I said yes. He said he had some things to work out first, and he'd let me know. He never did. I knew even then something was wrong, but I also knew better than to stick my nose where it didn't belong. I wish I had. That hindsight thing, you know. So, Nick, how's it going down on the farm?”
Nick increased the length of his stride to keep up. “It isn't. I got married last week in Vegas. That's part of my problem. My mother . . . Can we talk about all that later? Tell me about my dad. How'd you all get to be such good friends? What was he like when he was my age? I know you and Dad were really close. I envy you that.”
Hatch's expression turned thoughtful. “We were all full of piss and vinegar back then. We were so high on life we thought we could fly. There wasn't one ounce of fear in any of us. By us I mean Bode Jessup, your dad, me, and Hank Mitchum. We were supposed to be a four-man law office, but your dad bugged out. We kept an office for him just in case he ever changed his mind. None of us could bear to take on another partner, so his offices are still the way they were the day we started out. The door, our letterhead, our corporation papers still read, Littletree, Jessup, Clay, and Mitchum. When you were born, Nick, we set up a trust for you. Hunt didn't want us to do it, but hell, we did it anyway. You're old enough now so that you can start hitting it anytime you want. You do know about it, don't you?”
“No. Dad never said anything. Did Mom know? I guess my next question should be, why?”
“Because it was the right thing to do. As to your mother, I don't know, Nick. Probably not would be my guess. All the statements come to our office. I'd call Hunt after the first of the year and give him a rundown. I think he was embarrassed about it all and felt like he let me down by not joining the firm. Hell, Nick, life is to be lived, and I live every single minute of every day. I'm good to myself and to those I love. Hell, I'm even good to those I don't love. Life is just too damn short to be unhappy. Hop in, kid. You hungry?”
A plane passed overhead. Nick looked up to see the landing gear drop. He would have loved to learn to fly, but he'd never gotten around to taking flying lessons. He'd never gotten around to a lot of things he would like to do. His life had been horses and only horses.
“No, not really. I'd like to see the office where . . . you know. Did you know about my dad's affairs, Hatch?”
“Yeah. He told me about them. It was like he needed a kind of absolution, and by telling me it made it all right. It didn't, but that's okay, too. One of my main rules in life is never to judge another.”
Nick settled back in the comfortable seat of the Range Rover. “Nice country.” He found himself eager to see Santa Fe. He'd heard it was a quaint little town, catering to tourists looking for high-end jewelry, Western clothing, art, and furniture.
“Yeah, it is. How's the horse business?” Hatch cackled.
“Pretty much as usual. Misty Blue dropped her foal night before last. I didn't get a chance to see it but . . .” He sighed.
Hatch slapped at his forehead. “That reminds me, I don't think I ever told you, the partners, myself included, put down half a mil on Flyby at the Derby. With those crazy odds and your father's hype, how could we go wrong? We did the same thing with the Preakness and the Belmont. We used the money to start your trust fund, kid. When your mother ran the Belmont the second time, we put down a cool mil and donated it to charity in your father's name. We divvied it up among animal shelters where they don't put the animals to sleep, battered women's shelters, and children's charities.”
Nick's jaw dropped. “Why?” he asked, awestruck. “Why didn't you keep it, have some fun with it? At least a part of it.”
Hatch bellowed with laughter. “We did have fun with it.” He glanced over at Nick. “What good is having money if you can't do good with it? When we were in school none of us had a pot to piss in, and I mean that literally. One whole semester we lived on macaroni and cheese and mustard and ketchup sandwiches. The rich kids used to thumb their noses at our circumstances, but they damn well couldn't thumb their noses at our brains. When you get, you gotta give back. The firm gives away more than it keeps. We do a lot of
pro bono,
too. I think that's why we were put on this earth.”
Nick screwed up his face and shook his head. “My dad said you were a crazy son of a bitch. He meant it as a compliment.”
Hatch laughed, the car literally rocking beneath his solid body. “You look real miserable, kid. You wanna talk about it now?”
Nick shook his head as he stared off into the distance, the hot, dry wind ruffling his dark hair. He focused on the scenery. He'd been born and raised in Kentucky. He hadn't done much traveling, so the flora and fauna of New Mexico were completely foreign to him. The architecture, too. A lot of earth colors and red-tile roofs, nothing like Kentucky.
They drove in companionable silence for several miles. Nick's thoughts turned to his problem—his mother. He'd been thoughtless and irresponsible by not returning home on time. And he'd made it worse by getting married and telling her after the fact. But did his actions justify such a harsh punishment?
“I need to talk to someone, Hatch.”
“I'm as good as the next person. I shoot straight from the hip, Nick. Spit it out.”
Nick sucked in his breath and then let it out in a long sigh. “It's like this. I took a vacation, my first ever . . .”
Twenty minutes later, Hatch swerved into the parking lot and screeched to a stop. “Great timing,” he grunted as he got out of the truck. “Let's go inside where it's cool and have a nice cold beer. I'll show you around, let you see the suite of offices that were meant for your dad. When we started out we were in a two-room shack. This fine edifice,” he said, pointing to a large adobe-brick-and-glass building that was exquisitely landscaped, “is the result of a lot of hard work, brainpower, and believing in ourselves. Believe it or not, I do some of my best thinking while I'm talking. It's an old Indian thing,” he said by way of explanation. “That's some heavy-duty shit you just laid on me, kid. Come, I want you to meet Medusa. She runs this place.”
Nick wasn't sure what to make of Hatch. He hadn't said a word the whole time he'd been telling him his sorry story and hadn't said anything afterward either. It was as if he hadn't heard a thing he'd said. Maybe his father was wrong, and Hatch wasn't the right person to help him after all.
“Dad told me about her. He said she was like Bode Jessup's Mama Pearl. Once, when I was about eight and I was pestering him to tell me how many stars there were in the sky, he told me about Medusa and Mama Pearl. He said if he could have just one wish, it would be to have someone like that in his life. Grandpa, my dad's father, loved him, but he was a hard man. I think Mom loved him, but she's hard, too. He wasn't a happy camper those last few years, but there was nothing anyone could do.”
“Yeah, kid, he was unhappy during the last years of his life. We all tried to help, but happiness comes from within. There comes a point where you have to back off and hope for the best. All that other stuff, the outer trappings we think of as happiness, that's just the frosting on the cake.
“Medusa, I'd like you to meet . . .”
“Hunter's son. You look just like your father, young man,” Medusa said, holding out a birdlike hand with six silver bracelets on her tiny wrist.
She wasn't just a tiny woman, she was a miniature . . . of what, Nick didn't know. Seventy-nine pounds tops. A tiny little lady with a smile as big as the world. Soft, brown eyes flecked with gold matched the long, thick braid that hung down to her waist. A cluster of tiny, silver bells hung from her ears. They hung around her neck and wrist, too. So, if they tinkled, how come he hadn't heard a sound? He was about to look down to see if she had them on her ankles when she said, “No, I don't wear ankle bracelets.”
“You have to stop reading people's minds, Medusa. You're spooking this boy. One of these days you're going to give us Indians a bad name.”
“You look just the way your dad said you looked. He said you were prettier than the first foal born in the New Year.” Medusa smiled.
“That was a high compliment coming from Dad,” Nick said softly.
“I know that, Nicholas, and yes, at times we send up smoke signals. Mostly when I want to get Shunpus's attention. He ignores the telephone, you see.”
Jesus,
he thought,
she really can read my mind.
Embarrassed, he concentrated on the bells she was wearing. Why didn't they tinkle or give off some kind of sound?
Medusa smiled. “They only tinkle when I want them to tinkle.”
“Enough!” Hatch boomed.
“Come with me, young man. I will show you your father's offices. My best friend's son here,” she said, pointing to Hatch, “has kept it like a shrine to what might have been. Would you like some coffee or a drink?”
“I'd like a cold beer if it isn't too much trouble.”
Hatch's right hand reached out. “Why don't you just give me that folder you have and I'll look at it while you're perusing Hunt's offices,” he said.
Nick was awestruck by the lavishness that surrounded him. Everything looked and felt expensive. Hatch's office was decorated in bright, primary colors with Native American art and artifacts covering the walls and furniture tops that carried through to the main lobby and various hallways.
He moved in a trancelike state as he walked from room to room. In his father's office he tried to picture his father behind the ornate mahogany desk, but the image wouldn't appear behind his eyelids.
“Your father wouldn't have been happy here, Nicholas. These are just rooms. I wish Shunpus would let go of the past. For some reason he won't allow himself to do that. Sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking, he comes in here and smokes a cigar and drinks a bottle of beer. I think he talks to your father's spirit. We Indians do that, you know.”
Nick turned around. “You seem to know everything, ma'am. Does . . . does my father answer him?”
She smiled. Her smile was her best feature because it was so wide and beautiful and gentle at the same time. “I think Shunpus believes he does. That's the main reason the firm has never taken on a new partner. There are spirits in here, Nicholas. Who they are, I do not know.”
“Uh-huh,” Nick said uneasily.
“Does the spirit world frighten you, Nicholas?”
Nick whirled around to the sound of tinkling bells. He could feel his heart take on an extra beat. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
Medusa smiled, but she didn't respond to the question. “I will fetch your beer.”
The offices were state-of-the-art, complete with the DVD wide-screen television, VCR, and a CD system. A bar was snuggled underneath the breakfront that housed the sound system, and it was stocked with every drink imaginable. Hell, he could have popped his own beer. Then again, if this was a shrine, maybe only Hatch was allowed to drink from the bar. For clients there was grape soda, snacks, potato chips, pretzels, and an assortment of See's chocolates and gumdrops, all his father's favorites.

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