Belle Pointe. Karen Young

farming the way you do, the way I do. Since I was old enough to see the difference in your way and Dad’s way, I’ve known that. I’m more in tune with the way you feel about Belle Pointe than Pearce will ever be. You have to admit that.”

      “I admit nothing,” she said coolly. “On the contrary, while you’ve been in school, Pearce has progressed very satisfactorily in running Belle Pointe.”

      “I’ve been home every summer for three years and I haven’t noticed Pearce having any interest in farming,” Buck argued.

      “He will do his duty,” Victoria stated doggedly.

      For a long moment, Buck simply stared at her. He knew there was no way in hell that Pearce would willingly choose farming at Belle Pointe over practicing law. Pearce liked hobnobbing with the state’s movers and shakers. He liked wheeling and dealing. He liked using his birthright as a Whitaker of Belle Pointe as an asset, but he didn’t like getting up at daylight to supervise the crews until dark. He didn’t like to sweat or to get his hands dirty. So why was his mother pushing Buck out to hand Belle Pointe over to Pearce?

      “What if my excellent prospects don’t pan out, Mother?” he asked. “And if there’s no place for me at Belle Pointe, where’s my place in your plan?”

      “You have an excellent education and you’re intelligent,” she said. “That is more than many young men start out with.” She moved regally to the door. “Now, finish packing and Pearce will help you carry your things to the car.”

      Telling it to Anne now, Buck waited for the bitterness that always came when he thought of that conversation with his mother, but to his surprise it didn’t hurt as much as it once did.

      “How could she?” Anne whispered, shocked.

      “The thing that galls me most to this day is that I begged her to change her mind,” he said quietly. “She told me that my dreams for Belle Pointe weren’t going to happen, that she was handing it over to Pearce who didn’t give a damn about innovations in crop management or experimental projects like other planters to keep from depleting soil nutrients. Dad knew I had my heart set on trying new stuff, that I’d spent four years leaning to make a difference at Belle Pointe and she slammed the door in my face.”

      He read a mix of sympathy and bafflement in Anne’s expression and gave a sheepish shrug. “I guess I sound like a big crybaby, don’t I? Hell, she was right after all. My baseball career did take off—even though it took a few years. And now I have a very healthy portfolio, a house in St. Louis, condos in Vail and West Palm Beach, a couple of really fast cars, a beautiful wife—” He stopped with a wry grin. “I do still have a wife, don’t I?”

      She said nothing, simply shook her head.