She warmed a little to the man. And then he added, “But you are not family, only an employee of the Belle Creek. Silas made it clear that only family is to have what funds he left. I don’t blame him, as I know your family’s history with the ranch is circumspect, specifically your father and how he left here owing money.”
Talk about a dose of ice water. Holding on to her pride, she sat straight and managed a tight smile. Nick, however, wasn’t smiling.
“That’s not necessary, Mohler,” he said in a quiet, dangerous voice. “Shelby is not her father. Show her some respect.”
She didn’t need Nick defending her. Her smile grew tighter. “Nick, he’s right. I’m not family.”
Shelby locked gazes with the lawyer. “I’m also not my father. Or my mother. I’ve been employed by the Belle Creek for ten years and in those ten years, I’ve paid back every cent my daddy owed. I’d appreciate it if you would not confuse me with my parents.”
As the lawyer started to stammer, she gave him a singularly sweet smile. “Are we clear on that, Mr. Mohler?”
He nodded and fumbled with his papers. Nick gave her a winsome grin. She ignored it, far too upset inside. Well-mannered Southern girls did not speak back, especially not to wealthy attorneys. But she was so damn tired of people in Barlow bringing up her parents, as if they waited to see if she’d pass out cold in her home from drinking too much.
Not that she really had a home. Her home depended upon the whims of what the family did with the ranch.
Shelby’s troubled gaze flicked back to Nick. Not family. Silas’s only son, Nick. He was the sole owner of the ranch now.
Nick stared back at her, the scar on his cheek turning white. “The will states Shelby can live here as long as I keep the ranch. What if I decide to sell?”
“Then she, along with everyone else, will have to leave.” Kurt didn’t look at her.
Felicity was rocking back and forth now, her jaw clenched so tight it could pound nails. The woman looked ready to rake her claws over Nick. Or scream. Or do both. But unlike Shelby, Felicity was a well-mannered Southern lady and she would not say a word.
Not until she was alone in her bedroom with Dan. Shelby didn’t envy Dan for that.
Jake leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “How much did Uncle Silas owe? He never told any of us about this.” His glance went to Shelby. “Not even Shelby here, who kept the books. Uncle Silas was very private about that.”
“He was very far behind in payments, and the loan had a balloon due four months ago. The bank already started foreclosure. The total amount needed to prevent this is fifty-nine thousand, seven hundred and fifty. The bank needs this by the end of the month.”
They had one month to come up with nearly sixty thousand dollars. She glanced at Nick. No, he had that time to come up with that cash.
“The ranch is worth much more than the mortgage, Nick.” Kurt handed him a white business card. “Come and see me first thing Monday morning and we’ll go over everything, including Chuck’s offer to buy Belle Creek. He’s offering nearly a million in cash. I can help set up a meeting. Chuck is a business associate.”
Shelby couldn’t think, could barely register what had just happened as Nick stood and shook the man’s hand. The lawyer exited, and Felicity almost ran out of the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she left the Oriental carpet, her hapless husband trailing her. Jake looked stunned for a minute and then shrugged. He slapped Nick’s shoulder.
“Welcome home, cousin. What a sly trickster that Silas is. Let me know if you’re going to sell and I’ll move my stuff in permanently with Lynn, not just my toothbrush. Maybe see about getting on with a horse farm in Kentucky.” Jake grinned and left.
She was alone with Nick. He stood and went to Silas’s big mahogany desk. How many times had she seen the old man sit there, dusty boots sprawled across the faded Oriental rug, frown lines denting his forehead, much as they were denting Nick’s now? Silas had always brightened when she’d entered these hallowed quarters, inviting her to sit and talk.
He’d made her feel comfortable and at home, not like the hired hand she had been. Silas would insist on brewing them a little tea, and they’d sit, as fancy as if they were sipping tea in the queen’s parlor. She’d tell him all about how Readalot performed his paces that day with Jake, and then how the horse kept nosing in her shirt pocket for the apple he knew she’d hidden as she curried him. Silas had listened to her, really listened, as his tired blue eyes met hers over his teacup.
The thought that he wouldn’t be around anymore to listen to her talk about her day, ask in his deep, gravelly voice how she was doing, caused an unbearable clench of grief.
Nick turned from the desk, with its neat piles of papers and files. His gaze was bleak. He lifted a hand to her and she saw he had the letter.
“Shel...”
Frozen in shock, she could only stare as a kaleidoscope of disastrous possibilities whirled through her mind. Nick was now in charge. Nick, who had kissed her and left, making her feel as abandoned as a shelter dog. Nick, who fought hard with Silas and didn’t care about the ranch’s legacy, or his heritage.
“I didn’t want this,” he said, and the letter shook a little in his hand, as if a breeze caught it. “I need time to sort things out.”
Time? “You have less than a month, by the look of things.” She tried to make her voice light, but an undercurrent of bitterness laced her tone. “The bank looks to foreclose if they don’t get sixty thousand dollars by then.”
His eyes closed, and his long, dark lashes nearly swept over his elegant cheekbones. Such a handsome man, even with that sinister scar. It was a shame a man had such great lashes. No mascara for him.
She realized she felt slightly hysterical.
He opened his eyes, and a determined glint shone there. “You’ll always have a home here, Shel. You and your nephew.”
“Sure.” Now there was no disguising the anger in her voice. “As long as the ranch remains in the family. Because as the lawyer said, I’m not family.”
No longer could she remain here, trying to be civilized. Emotion boiled in her stomach and she walked out of the room, not bothering to close the door. Only when she reached the privacy of her apartment over the garage did the tears come. She let them flow. Grief was better than the haunting thoughts about the future stabbing her mind.
Would Nick do as the lawyer suggested and sell the ranch? She couldn’t even entertain that possibility.
Because if Nick decided to sell the ranch, it would be the worst for her. She and Timmy would be homeless, with no money, and nowhere else to go.
Alone with the past.
Nick sat in the big leather chair behind Silas’s desk, staring at the paneled walls of his father’s study. He’d always hated this room. It was here that Silas lectured him, yelled at him and then finally shook his head in disgust, announcing that Nick was useless.
The day he ran off to join the navy, he never felt more determined to prove the old man wrong. He’d sweated, strained and broken bones to become a Navy SEAL.
And swore he’d never return to this room. Well, here he was, the echo of his father’s voice bouncing off the walls, a ghost from the past.
Nick fingered the letter the lawyer had given him. There had to be a reason why the old man gave him everything and dissed Dan. To torment Dan like Silas had tormented Nick? Only one way to find out. With grim amusement, he looked at his hands