Kentucky Sunrise (36 page)

Read Kentucky Sunrise Online

Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Sunrise
12.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Sitting next to her, Jake started to sing,
“Off we go into the wild blue yonder . . .”
“Riding high into the sky . . .”
Nealy sang along with him.
Epilogue
Blue Diamond Farms
Five years later
 
Emmie Coleman sat on the steps of the front porch and looked out across what had once been the beautiful, luscious landscape of Blue Diamond Farms.
Five years of neglect had reduced it to nothing more than a bunch of empty barns, scorched grass, and a house badly in need of repair.
All the horses were gone, sold off to the highest bidder. Only Hifly and a barn buddy named Omar remained. No dogs or cats roamed the breezeway the way they had when she was growing up there.
It was a sad testimony to her reign as sole owner of the famous Blue Diamond Farms.
She wondered where her father was these days. He called from time to time, but he was another sad testimony to family life. He had simply expected too much from her, and when she didn't do what was expected, he'd chastise her until ugly words passed between them. Like her mother, he'd finally given up on her. He didn't understand, or maybe he refused to understand, that she wasn't perfect like her famous mother. Even her daughter Gabby refused to understand the way things were. In a weak moment she'd allowed her to visit her father after she'd started to ask questions, something she never thought would happen. After her first visit to Ohio, she wanted to spend every holiday and all her summer vacations with him, or her grandfather, but mostly with her father. Just as recently as last month, she'd said she hated coming home to such a dreary place and would rather live with her father and Debra, whom she adored, along with her two little stepbrothers. It had been simpler to let her go than to cry and plead to have her stay.
Even Nick was a scarce visitor these days—or was it years? He said the farm depressed him and chided her for the way she'd run it into the ground in such a short time. He was busy with his new wife and twin daughters. The last time she'd seen him was two years ago. He did call every few months, but rarely said anything of interest to her.
Her mother called regularly, at least twice a week. They discussed the weather, Gabby's grades in school, or her visits to her father's house, always mundane things. Nealy constantly invited her to SunStar Farms, but she always had an excuse as to why she couldn't go. She never invited her mother back to Blue Diamond Farms.
None of them understood.
She wondered what would happen if she sat there on the steps and never, ever, got up again.
When she saw the cloud of dust on the long driveway, she brought her hands to her eyes to shield them from the bright sun. A visitor. She didn't have visitors these days. She hadn't had a visitor in over a year.
It was a battered pickup full of dust and mud, but she could see it was maroon in color. The truck was probably half as old as the man driving it. Emmie stood up the moment the truck clunked to a stop to watch a man as weathered as his truck get out, shake down his denim jeans, adjust his hat, and walk forward.
“Afternoon, ma'am. I was wondering if you might have some work for me. My name is Denver Caldwell. This is Blue Diamond Farms, isn't it?”
“Yes. What's left of it. What did you have in mind?”
“Well from the looks of things, maybe sprucing it up a bit. I'm real handy with a hammer. I know how to paint without making a mess. I'm good with horses, too. I'll work for my keep and a decent wage. If I might be so bold, ma'am, you look pretty as a picture standing there like that. This porch could use some flowers and maybe some of those hanging baskets. Real nice and shady in the summertime. It looks like just the place to drink a cold, frosty glass of lemonade. I just betcha in six months, I could have this place looking real nice.”
“Could you now? Would you like to stay for supper, Denver? I'm not much of a cook, but I get by. We could talk about it over supper.”
“I'd like that, ma'am. I think I should freshen up a bit. You got running water down at the barns, don't you? Been driving the better part of three days. I can't be coming to supper looking like this. You didn't tell me your name.”
“Emmie. Emmie Coleman. Yes, there's water down at the barn. There's warm water if you want to shower. Just go into the little cottage across from the third barn. The door's open.”
“Thank you, ma'am. What time is supper? I don't want to be late.”
“An hour from now. Is that satisfactory?”
“Yes, ma'am, it is.”
Emmie walked over to the screen door. She frowned when she noticed the screen was half off the door. Then she smiled. This was what had happened to Maud Diamond. Jess had ridden in and taken over just when Blue Diamond was about to fall around Maud's ears and she was about to lose everything. Jess had pulled it all together for Maud. A fairy tale.
She smiled all the way to the kitchen.
Maybe Denver Caldwell would be her Jess Wooley. Maybe Denver Caldwell would take care of her the way Jess had taken care of Maud Diamond.
Maybe.
Own the whole series . . . and put them on your keeper shelf!
“The Colemans of Texas and the Thorntons of Vegas just wouldn't stay out of my head,” Fern Michaels said. “There's more to their story. . . . and it has to be told.” Thus, the Kentucky Trilogy was begun. . . .
 
KENTUCKY RICH:
 
Josh Coleman left unfinished buisness at SunStar, the Thoroughbred horse farm he'd built from nothing. Now, thirty years later, his long-lost daughter, Nealy—now Nealy Coleman Diamond—comes back to settle an old score. No longer the teenaged waif who fled with her two-year-old daughter, Emmie, so long ago, Nealy is rich, sophisticated, and renowned in the Thoroughbred racing world. As owner of Blue Diamond Farms, she becomes the first woman jockey to win the Kentucky Derby. And that's only the first of many challenges. . . .
 
KENTUCKY HEAT
 
Nealy's two grown children are disappointments to her—they just don't take the horse business seriously enough—so she sends them away and, once again, takes over at Blue Diamond Farms. Her first priority is Shufly, the colt destined to win the Triple Crown. But her world becomes complicated as her ex-husband's law partner, Native-American Hatch Littletree, comes into her life. As Nealy experiences turmoil, comfort, pain, triumph—and one night of bloodcurdling terror—the reader is swept away, enthralled as the power of one woman's indomitable spirit leaps off the page . . . and rushes like a Thoroughbred toward the finish line.
For a sneak preview of Nikki's story
from another Sisterhood Series book,
read the tantalizing excerpt of
THE JURY
(Zebra, 2006)
Prologue
N
ikki Quinn opened her eyes and groaned at the bright sunlight shining through her bedroom window. Normally she closed the blinds before getting into bed, but last night she'd consumed way too much wine. Couple that with her frenzied state of mind and she was down for the count. If you added Jack Emery to the mix, she was nothing short of a basket case.
She rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut. Her cheek touched the damp pillow. Damn, she'd cried in her sleep
again.
What was wrong with her? She was tougher than this. She shouldn't be falling apart emotionally like she was.
Temples throbbing, Nikki swung her legs over the side of the bed. She gripped the edge of the mattress before she got up to make her way to the shower. A nice hot shower, then a laser-like cold one and she should be up and running. Coffee and juice would add the final touch so she could get on with the day.
Get on with the day? Just what the hell did that mean lately? She'd lost her teaching job at Georgetown University. Her twelve-member all-female law firm, which she'd started up years ago with Myra Rutledge's help, was thriving but these days, with things going as they were, she didn't spend much time at the firm. Madeline Barrows did a wonderful job of managing everything in her absence. Still, she missed the routine, missed court, missed her colleagues.
As the hot, steamy spray pelted her body, Nikki's thoughts took her back in time to when Myra Rutledge, her adoptive mother and heiress to a Fortune 500 candy company, had come up with the brilliant idea of forming the Sisterhood so that she could avenge her daughter's death . . .
Water cascaded over Nikki's head like a waterfall. Once, a long time ago, she and Jack had picnicked at a wonderful spot in Pennsylvania where there was a waterfall. They'd frolicked like little kids and then made love behind the sheer curtain of water . . .
All she had now were those memories, because Jack Emery was determined to put her and the other members of the Sisterhood in prison. So far, though, she and the sisters had remained one step ahead of the former assistant district attorney. Lost love was so very painful.
Nikki stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dry and then brushed her teeth.
It was June. A month for weddings. She and Jack were supposed to get married a year ago in June. But that never happened and probably never would happen now. She thought about the wedding gown hanging in her closet and how beautiful it was. Tears gathered in her eyes.
Memory Lane was not a good road for her to travel these days. She needed to move on. In fact, she thought she had until recently, when the Sisterhood had convened and her name had been chosen for their next revenge mission. She'd been so startled that she hadn't said a word. When they formed the Sisterhood it had been her understanding that she was there for legal counsel. While she belonged, she wasn't a true sister—she hadn't been wronged by the judicial system. And now she had to come up with a wrong that needed to be made right. The only problem was, the only wrong thing in her life was Jack Emery. There was no way she could turn Jack over to the Sisterhood. Because . . . because . . . she still loved him.
Nikki felt lower than a snake's belly as she dressed in a lime-green sundress with appliquéd sunflowers on the oversized patch pockets. Matching sandals completed her outfit. Her mind raced as she struggled to come up with a solution to her immediate problem.
Was she a member of the Sisterhood or not? Yes and no. She'd taken part in Kathryn's, Julia's and Myra's missions. She'd been an active participant each time. That alone proved she was a true sister. And now it was her turn to exact a revenge on her own behalf. If she didn't go with Jack as her mission, she would betray the others. She knew they would show her no mercy if she balked.
Nikki locked the door of her town house and walked to the parking lot and her BMW. She needed to talk to Myra and Charles and she needed to do it now before she drove herself insane. She had her cell phone in her hand even before she drove out of the parking lot.
“Madeline, it's Nikki. I'm on my way to Pinewood. Is everything OK? How's our new lawyer working out?”
“It's only been ten days, Nikki. She's had a few walk-ins but no cases that need to be litigated.”
“I hear a ‘but' coming. Spit it out, Maddie. Do you think I made a mistake hiring her?”
“No. But she's very aggressive, Nikki. Exceptionally so. She's stepped on a few toes, but has apologized. I explained the pecking order to her. She didn't take it well. I think she'll do fine but she needs to be watched. When are you coming in?”
“I don't know, Maddie. I have some things to take care of. I turned two of my cases over to Janice. I've got a clean plate for the time being. I'm thinking about taking a vacation. I need to get away.”
“Nikki, why don't you just patch it up with Jack?” Maddie asked in a motherly tone.
“Easier said than done. Keep your eye on Allison. If it starts to look sticky, call me and I'll fire her. I don't want anything to upset the harmony we have in the office.”
“Will do, kiddo. Have a nice day.”
Nikki clicked off her cell phone. Had she made a mistake hiring Allison Banks? With so much on her mind it was entirely possible. She gave a mental shrug as she steered the BMW by rote.
Fifty minutes later, after filling her gas tank and getting a cup of coffee, Nikki barreled through the gates of Pinewood. By the time she parked the car and got out, she could see Myra leaning over the terrace railing.
“Darling, how wonderful to see you! Charles and I are having a late breakfast here on the terrace. Join us.”
Nikki entered the house, walked down two hallways to a set of French doors and then out to the terrace. It felt good to be hugged, to be kissed by someone who cared about her. She bit down on her lip as she fought to keep her tears in check.
“Sit down, dear. Orange juice?”
Nikki nodded as Charles poured coffee from an elaborate silver coffee pot. A plate of croissants and melon sat in the middle of the table. If she had to eat either one, Nikki knew she'd choke.
Charles sat down, his eyes full of concern. “Tell us what's bothering you, Nikki. You look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Nikki looked from one to the other. How dear they were to her. She blinked. “I feel like . . . like I'm in the Sisterhood under false pretenses. When we started the organization I thought I was just to be legal counsel and help in whatever way I could. I didn't have a wrong that needed to be made right, other than losing Barbara, and we already avenged her death. Now it's my turn and I really don't have a mission. I know the others are expecting me to choose Jack and I simply can't do that. I can't, Myra. That doesn't mean I want to leave the Sisterhood. I don't. I just want a pass.”
Myra frowned. How she loved this young woman who was sitting across from her. She was so tortured, so driven. “That's doable, dear. Why don't you go away for a while? Take a nice, really long vacation. Go to the islands, soak in the sun, splash in the water, eat and sleep when you feel like it. The main reason I'm suggesting this is that we will not be reconvening at the end of June, when we were expecting Julia to return. Her doctor called last night and said her last blood test wasn't as good as they would have liked. It seems he wants to keep her a little longer. It's all still very positive, though. Her departure has been moved back till the end of August. Julia is disappointed but her health is the main concern. We called the others early this morning and all the girls are OK with moving our next mission back to September or even October. I called you, too, dear, but you had already left. So, you see, you're free to take a nice long vacation. Charles can arrange everything.”
Nikki digested the information. She felt a sense of relief, but it was short-lived. Taking a vacation was fine but she would have to return eventually and deal with the problem of Jack Emery. You couldn't put a Band-Aid on a severed artery. But as a short-term reprieve, the idea appealed to her.
“Jack?” Nikki said flatly.
Myra looked out across the newly mowed lawn and all the colorful flowerbeds. “Your revenge is yours, dear. If you want to, as you say, take a pass, then that has to be your decision. I think you need some private time to get things clear in your head. What do you think?”
“The firm? I don't know, Myra. Maybe a few days, but there's so much going on I'm not sure I can take an extended vacation.”
“Darling girl, you told me yourself Maddie runs the firm with a strong hand. You also told me you turned your pending cases over to Janice. There's nothing standing in your way to prevent you taking an extended vacation—unless it's Jack.”
Charles fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “Might I take this moment to tell you how tired and drawn you look, Nikki? You've been burning the candle at both ends and dealing with Mr. Emery at the same time. That alone would take a toll on anyone. I agree with Myra; a vacation is a good idea, my dear.”
Nikki clenched her teeth. “Is that an order?”
Myra leaned across the table to take Nikki's hands in hers. “Actually dear, it is.”
A blue jay swooped down on the terrace before he settled on the iron railing to squawk his displeasure over something. Charles shredded a croissant and dropped it over the railing. The blue jay flew off, still squawking.
They were right and Nikki knew it. “All right, make the arrangements.”
Myra and Charles smiled. In spite of herself, Nikki laughed.
“What shall it be, the islands or the mountains?”
“The islands. I'll leave the day after tomorrow. I need to go shopping. I think I'll leave now and get a head start.”
“What about Mr. Emery, dear?” Myra asked.
“I doubt he'll be joining me, Myra. He's allergic to sun and sand. Will you call and keep me updated on the others, especially Julia?”
“Yes, of course. Myra and I decided a little while ago to take a road trip. We also have the Truckers' Ball to look forward to. I think taking the summer off is a good thing for all of us. Alexis is getting settled back into her little house and enjoying the company of her dog. Isabelle has a few new clients to take care of and this is Yoko's busy time at the nursery. Kathryn said she has several west-coast deliveries to make. We'll reconvene on the first of September,” Charles said.
“Then it's settled. I'm off.”
A round of hugs and kisses followed.
Myra played with her hands as she watched her adopted daughter drive through the gates. “I'm worried about Nikki, Charles. Young love is so . . . sad sometimes. She'll be all right, won't she?”
“Nikki will be fine. Everything came down on her shoulders at once, but she can handle it. Right now she needs to fall back and regroup . . . I have an idea, Myra. Let's go riding. I saw something the other day at the Barringtons' farm that I didn't understand. I'd like to check out their horses. Are you up for a morning ride? And how about a picnic?”
“That's a wonderful idea, Charles. Let me change while you make the picnic food.”
“Now, how did I know you were going to say that?”
Myra looked up and twinkled. “Because you know me better than any other person in the whole world. You're right about the Barringtons' horses, too.”
“Scat. Whatever it is, we'll make it right.”
“I love you, dear.”
“You're just saying that so I won't make egg salad for our picnic.”
Myra laughed as she sashayed her way into the house. “That too,” she said, laughing.
One
T
he smoky scent of burning leaves hung in the autumn air as Myra paced back and forth. The day was cool, the way the last days of September usually were in Virginia. She hugged her arms to her chest, her pace picking up each time she circled the terrace. She stopped twice to pluck a yellowing leaf from the clay pots of crimson chrysanthemums that lined the terrace. Charles watched Myra from his position in his favorite Adirondack chair. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his lady love so agitated, so frustrated.
“We should have called Nikki when all of this first happened. She is the president of the Virginia Equestrian Society. She may never forgive us, Charles. She's as headstrong as Barbara was. Surely you remember what that was like. You know how Nikki feels about animals, especially horses. Sending her off to that private island in the middle of nowhere, virtually incommunicado, might not have been such a good idea after all. I know, I know, she was on the verge of a breakdown and needed to get her head straight. But how are we going to tell her what's going on? We need to bring her back home. Better yet, have the plane readied and I'll go personally to fetch her.”
Myra plopped down in a matching chair, her arms and legs at all angles, proof that she was so upset she didn't care how unladylike she appeared.
“Myra, listen to me,” Charles said soothingly. “Nikki was in a bad emotional state when we sent her off to the island and she knew it. She was more than willing to go, to take time off so that she could get back on an even keel. She understood the rules—no contact with the office, no contact with Jack Emery and contact with us only once a month. She also understood your phone calls would deal only with pleasantries. She
agreed
, Myra, to take time off, to go away. It was her idea in the first place. I don't want you blaming yourself for any of this. Nikki knew back in May that she was teetering on the edge and she knew we only wanted what was best for her. If she'd been here when all of
this
happened, she would have teetered off that shaky ledge she was standing on. She's healthy and strong now. She'll be able to handle this.”
Myra's voice rose shrilly. “This, this, this! Why don't we give
this
a name, Charles?”
Charles's voice was still soothing and calm. “Because talking about
this
upsets you. You're screaming at me, Myra. I'm going down to the war room to call my people and arrange Nikki's return home. She's ready to return, she told us so on Sunday when we spoke to her.”
“I want to be the one to bring her back, Charles. No matter what you say, I still feel like this is all my fault.”
Charles stood up and clicked his tongue. “It is not your fault, Myra. In fact, the equestrian world has you to thank for bringing the situation to light. And, no, Nikki does not need her mommy to bring her home. She left on her own because she's a big girl, and she's going to return the same way: a big girl.”
“Those are just words, Charles. We live next door to the Barringtons and we had no clue that they were starving those beautiful horses. I still can't believe seven of those magnificent animals died because we didn't get to them in time. What kind of people allow animals to starve to death? And the miserable court system, which failed me after Barbara's death, failed me again when the judge ruled the horses should remain under the Barringtons' care. Those people are monsters and they're walking around as free as the air they breathe. All thanks to that . . . that . . . twit from Nikki's firm who represented them in court. Nikki would never have allowed that to happen if she had been here. Maddie must have been asleep at the switch.”
“Myra, don't do this to yourself. You're obsessing. Nikki will handle it all when she gets back. I want you to sit here in the sun and think about how wonderful it will be when Nikki gets back. Why don't you call the girls and arrange a meeting for the end of the week? Maybe the weekend. Whatever works best for all of them. I may be an hour or so as I also have to arrange for Julia's return. She is hale and hearty so we do have something to be thankful for. I want your promise, Myra.”
Myra offered up an elaborate sigh. “Very well, Charles. I'll sit here and count the leaves on all these flowers until you get back.” She couldn't resist one last parting shot. “In the old days, they hanged horse thieves. What those high-priced lawyers did was worse than thievery. I say we hang 'em high, as soon as I can figure out how to do it . . . I think I'm going to call Cornelia Easter and invite her out here for supper. I should have called her when all this started. I'm sorry now that I didn't. She is a judge, Charles, so she'll have the inside details.”
Charles frowned. “Myra, I don't . . .”
Myra held up her hand. “Don't go there, Charles. Nellie and I have been friends for fifty years. Good friends. Actually, we're more than good friends; I'm her daughter's godmother. Our husbands died within months of each other. We've laughed together, cried together, applauded each other and our daughters were best friends, too. That alone makes us closer than close. Nellie's more like a sister than a friend. The way Nikki and Barbara were like sisters.”
“Myra . . .”
The soft warning in Myra's voice was something Charles had never heard before, “I told you, Charles, do not go there. I'm calling Nellie to come out for dinner. And I want you to . . . to stay out of sight. I'll call ahead and have her pick up some of our favorite Chinese from the Imperial Dragon.” Myra's voice softened. “It's all right, Charles, I know what I'm doing. I know you don't always think I do, but this time I really do know what I'm doing.”
Charles chuckled at her words, but he sobered almost instantly when he saw the sudden bitterness in her eyes that didn't match the soft tone in her voice. He felt a chill ricochet down his back when he realized Myra meant what she said about hanging horse thieves and people who abused animals. Just the way she'd meant it when she said she wanted to take on the justice system to correct their mistakes by forming the Sisterhood years ago. She'd acted on that thought, too. The chill stayed with him as he made his way to the war room where all missions of the Sisterhood were planned, plotted and executed.
Charles looked around his domain. It was so state of the art that it sometimes boggled even his mind. If only they'd had half of what was in this room years ago when he was in Her Majesty's service, his cover might not have been blown. He'd been the best operative at MI6 and was on first-name terms with the Queen. It had been the Queen's decision to send him to America with a new identity when his cover was blown, to ensure his safety. He hadn't come empty-handed, though. He'd brought a list of contacts from across the world—old friends, operatives still in the intelligence business, as well as retired operatives who were only too glad to offer assistance when he requested it, just to keep their hands in.
In his youth, before going into Her Majesty's service, he'd had an intense relationship with Myra when she was living in England with her parents. Because of her youth, Myra had had no say when it was time to return to the States. She'd gone back to America, her heart broken as was his, only to find out when she got there that she was pregnant. At her parents' insistence she'd married William Rutledge, who died ten years later.
Charles had had no knowledge of her pregnancy or the birth of his child until he started to work as the chief of security for Myra's candy company—a post arranged by MI6. And the rest was history. To this day, he had no idea if the Queen knew of his relationship with Myra or not. He rather thought she did.
How he'd loved Barbara and Nikki. Myra had wanted to tell Barbara that Charles was her real father, but he'd been against the idea. She had loved William Rutledge and Charles saw no reason to add to her grief by telling her that he wasn't her biological father. But then Barbara had died not knowing that Charles was her real father. How he regretted that decision now.
His shoulders heavy, Charles finished his glass of ice tea. Woolgathering was for other people who lived and dwelled in the past. He needed to get his thoughts together and get on with the business at hand. Myra would do whatever she wanted to do, regardless of what he said.
 
 
Federal Judge Cornelia Easter arrived in a luxurious chauffeured town car complete with two female security guards. Myra winced at this new development. Nellie had told her that not a day went by when she didn't receive a death threat. She was philosophical about it, saying it's just the world we live in today.
The whistle in her hand, Myra blew two sharp blasts. The silent guard dogs that had been circling her feet raced off to the barn. Myra nodded at the driver to show it was safe to get out of the car.
Judge Easter was a buxom, round little woman with springy curls and twinkling eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her voice was raspy from too many cigarettes and her fondness for good whiskey, but only after hours, as she always said.
After the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek, the judge looked around in the late-afternoon sunshine and said, “God Almighty, Myra, when did you turn this place into such a fortress?” She pointed to the razor wire atop the electrified fence, the new state-of-the-art security gates and, of course, the pack of guard dogs.
Myra's expression grew vague. “A while ago. We had a few spots of trouble a while back. It's more a precaution than anything else. How are you, Nellie?”
“I'm fine, Myra, but I'll be a lot better once you serve me some refreshments. Make it a double.” She turned to the security guards and their shopping bags full of Chinese food. “Girls, go in the house and watch television. I'll be on the terrace. That goes for you, too, Malcolm. This is my down time. If I need you, I'll call. Go along now. We discussed this exact situation on the ride out here. As you can see, there's all kinds of security here. Do as I say,” Nellie said in her best courtroom voice, which had cowed many a lawyer. The security detail was no different; they scattered.
“We have a year's worth of catching up to do, Myra, so let's get to it. I can't believe it's been a whole year since I've been out here to the farm.”
Nellie plopped down on one of the more comfortable chairs, her eyes sharp and keen as she watched Myra pour whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler. “Skip the ice and the water. Today I need it straight up.” She took a healthy gulp before she set the glass back on the table. “Talk to me, Myra.”
“I thought we'd go for a ride after you finish your drink. You have riding clothes upstairs in a closet and we still have two hours of daylight.”
“That sounds like a plan. How's Nikki?”
“She's coming home tomorrow,” Myra said as she fiddled with the glass in her hand.
Nellie sighed. “Jennifer was really worried Nikki wouldn't be here when she has the baby. Four more days, Myra, and I'll be a grandmother. Then the christening will be in two weeks, with Nikki being the godmother. Jennifer wants Jack Emery to be the godfather. I know, I know, but these young people have minds of their own. Then, six mothers later, I retire and kiss that black robe goodbye.
“They've been friends since high school. The four of them went through college and law school together. The girls stuck together when Nikki decided to open her all-female law firm, and Jack went to the District Attorney's office. When Barbara was alive you couldn't find a closer group of girls. I have to tell you, Myra. Jennifer has kept me apprised of the goings on in that firm since Nikki went off to . . . to . . . recover. She's on maternity leave now, but she keeps her hand in. What in the world was Nikki thinking when she hired that shellacked woman? It's just my opinion, but she would have been better off to leave Barbara's position open.”
Myra chewed on her lower lip. “I don't know, Nellie. Nikki doesn't even know what happened. Charles and I will tell her when she gets home tomorrow.”
“She doesn't know? Myra, for God's sake, why didn't you tell her? Nikki's a trooper. She would have kicked that young woman's ass right out of the firm the minute she got wind of what was going on.”
Myra took a sip of her drink. “That happened later, Nellie, after she was gone. Don't think Charles and I haven't agonized over this. We have, night and day. Our primary concern was Nikki's physical and mental health. Don't think I'm not dreading the moment I have to tell her what happened with the Barringtons. Aren't you finished with that drink yet, Nellie? It's not like you to be so slow.”
Nellie's eyes narrowed. “I'm done. See?” she said, upending the squat glass. “It will take me five minutes to change. Leave the bottle right there on the table. I have a feeling I'm going to need a triple when we get back. Am I spending the night, Myra?”
“I think that might be wise if you plan on drinking your dinner.”
The round little judge walked over to Myra. “I'm not going to like this, am I?”
“Nellie, I . . . No, you aren't going to like it.”
Nellie reached up to put her hands on Myra's shoulders. “For some reason, Myra, you always seem to underestimate me. Having said that, don't be so sure. Five minutes and I'll be ready to go riding.”

Other books

Callander Square by Anne Perry
Winter's Kiss by Catherine Hapka
The Beckoning Lady by Margery Allingham
Urchin and the Rage Tide by M. I. McAllister