by Lisa Jackson
McMichaels had continued reading, but the words were a muffled sound in Ashley’s private world of grief. She couldn’t look into the eyes of the startled family members.
“Wait a minute—” Claud started to interrupt, but a killing stare from Alan McMichaels forestalled any further comment from Ashley’s cousin. Claud sent Ashley a stricken look bordering on hatred.
McMichaels’s voice droned on for a few minutes until he finally tapped the neatly typed sheets of white paper on the tabletop and smiled. “That’s it. If you have any questions—”
The voices around the table started to buzz, and Ashley felt the eyes of distant relatives bore into her. Pieces of the whispered conversation drifted to her ears.
“I never suspected . . .”
“Didn’t Uncle Laz cut her off?”
“I thought so. Something about an affair with that Trevor Daniels, you know, the one running for the senatorial seat this fall.”
“How could she? And with that man! He was accused of taking a bribe last summer sometime. The charges didn’t stick, but if you ask me, he paid somebody off to save his neck! Trevor Daniels isn’t a man to trust or get involved with!”
“Daniels swore he’d break Lazarus, you know. He always blamed Lazarus for his father’s disappearance. If you ask me, Trevor Daniels’s father . . . what was his name? Robert—that’s right. I’ll bet that Robert Daniels just took off with another woman. . . .”
Ashley lifted her chin fractionally and leveled cool green eyes on the members of her father’s family. She was accustomed to the pain of gossip and she managed to let her poise lift her above the insulting speculation being whispered just loud enough for her to hear. Pushing her chair away from the desk, Ashley stood and started toward the door.
Claud was leaning over McMichaels’s desk, his ruddy complexion redder than usual. Though he was whispering, Ashley was well aware of what he was threatening. Claud considered himself next in line for control of the Stephens timber empire. No doubt cousin Claud was already devising ways of contesting the will.
Alan McMichaels noticed that Ashley was leaving, and he broke off his conversation with Claud in order to talk to her. He held up his palm to get her attention. “Ms Jennings—please. If you could stay for a few more minutes. There are a few matters I’d like to discuss with you.”
Managing a frail smile, Ashley nodded before smoothing her skirt and walking across the room to stand near the windows. She felt, rather than saw, the hateful glances cast at her back.
Though Ashley’s gaze studied the view from the eighth floor of the building, she didn’t notice the tall spire of a Gothic church steeple in the foreground or the fact that the fog had begun to lift, promising a cold, but clear, November day. Her thoughts rested on her father and the horrible fight that had torn them apart.
It had taken place in the spacious library of Lazarus’s Tudor home on Palatine Hill. “How could you?” Lazarus had shouted, his shock and rage white-hot when he had discovered that the man Ashley had been seeing all summer was the son of Robert Daniels, the man who had been Lazarus’s rival before his mysterious disappearance not two years earlier. Lazarus’s faded blue eyes had sparked vengeful fire, and his shoulders had slumped in defeat. Nothing Ashley could have done would have wounded him more.
When she had tried to explain that she loved Trevor and planned to marry him, her father had laughed. “Marry a Daniels? Damn it, Ashley, I thought you had more brains than that!” Lazarus had shaken his graying head. “What do you think he wants from you? Love?” When Lazarus read the expectant light in her eyes, he had spit angrily into the fire. “He’s using you, don’t you see? He’s after the timber company, for Christ’s sake! He’s on some personal vendetta against me. Wake up girl. Trevor Daniels doesn’t care a damn about you.”
When Ashley had staunchly refused to stop seeing Trevor, Lazarus had slapped his open palm on the table and threatened to disinherit her. Angrily, she had told him to do just that and had stomped out of the room, out of his house and out of her father’s life. Determined that she was right, Ashley had been hell-bent to prove him wrong.
It had been an impossible task. Lazarus had been correct about Trevor and his motives all along. At the vividly painful memory, Ashley sighed and ran her fingers along the cool window ledge. Once again tears, bitter and deceitful, threatened to spill.
“Ashley, could I have a word with you? It will only take a few minutes.”
She turned to face her father’s attorney and noticed that the room was empty. “First, let me tell you I’m sorry about your father.” She nodded, accepting his condolences and somehow holding on to her frail composure. “And that I hope you’ll continue to retain the services of McMichaels and Lee for yourself as well as the business.” Once again she nodded, encouraging him to get to the point.
“You must realize that, with your father’s bequest, you own a large majority of the stock of Stephens Timber. It’s within your power to run the company or hire someone else—”
“Mr. McMichaels,” Ashley interrupted, finally able to collect her scattered thoughts. “Right now, I don’t think I’m qualified to run the company myself.”
“But your father thought you could. Don’t you have a degree in business administration?”
“A master’s—”
“And didn’t you work for the corporation?”
“Years ago—during the summers between school terms. But the industry has changed a lot in the last eight years,” she protested.
“Your father seemed to think that you had a real knack for handling the executive end of Stephens Timber.”
“Did he?” Ashley shook her head in confusion. Why hadn’t her father been able to tell her what McMichaels was repeating? “I think we should leave things just as they are for the time being. It was my understanding that Claud had been managing the day-to-day transactions for all practical purposes. My father was in semiretirement.”
“That’s right.”
Ashley forced herself to think clearly. The strain of the past few days had been exhausting, but she couldn’t ignore her responsibilities. “So, until I know a little more about the business, and until my teaching contract is fulfilled, I’ll have to rely on Claud. The only thing I’ll require for the present is an audit of the company books and monthly financial statements. I’ll talk to Claud and ask him to continue to stay on as general manager of the corporation, at least temporarily.”
McMichaels stuffed his hands into his pockets and appeared uneasy.
“Is there a problem with that?”
The attorney frowned, seemed about to say something and thought better of it. “No, I suppose not. You can do whatever you like.”
“I know about the company’s reputation,” she assured the surprised lawyer. “I haven’t lived my life with my head in the sand. I expect that Claud will see to it that anything Stephens Timber does is strictly legal. Advising him will be your job.”
McMichaels smiled. Relief was evident on his tanned features. “Good.”
Ashley managed a thin smile. It was the first since the news of her father’s heart attack. “Whether I like it or not, I’ve got a teaching contract that doesn’t expire until June fifteenth. I’ll talk to the administration and explain the situation, and if the community college can find a substitute for next term, I’ll consider moving back to Portland and working with Claud.”
“I think that would be wise,” McMichaels agreed. He touched her shoulder in a consoling gesture. “You’re a very wealthy woman, now, Ashley. You’ll have to be careful. People will be out to take advantage of you.”
“Only if I give them the chance,” she replied. Ashley spoke a few more minutes with her father’s attorney and left his office with the disturbing feeling that something was on Alan McMichaels’s mind. She shook off the uncomfortable sensation and reasoned that the lawyer wanted to give her a little more time to deal with her grief before hoisting any corporate problems onto her shoulders.
> Once in the elevator, Ashley was alone. She closed her eyes and moved her head from side to side, hoping to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders.
Pushing through the glass doors of the building housing the firm of McMichaels and Lee, Ashley stepped into the subdued winter sunlight. A slight breeze caught in her hair and chilled her to the bone. She had just started down the short flight of steps to the street when Claud accosted her. Ashley braced herself for the confrontation that was sure to come. Ever since her falling out with her father, Claud had been groomed to inherit the presidency of Stephens Timber. No doubt his feathers were more than slightly ruffled.
“You knew about the change in the will, didn’t you?” he charged, falling into step with her.
“Of course not.”
“I don’t understand it—”
“Neither do I. Not really, but the fact is that father left the company to me.” When she reached her car, she turned to face her cousin. “Look, Claud, I know this must be a shock and disappointment to you. The thing of it is that I’d like you to continue to run the corporation just as you did for Dad, but you’ll have to report to me. I’ve told Alan exactly what I expect from you.”
Claud tugged uneasily on his mustache. His dark eyes bored into hers. “You won’t interfere?”
“Of course I will—if I think you’re doing an inadequate job. The next few days I’ll be at the corporate offices, looking over your shoulder. We can get any of the more pressing problems ironed out then. I want to know everything that happens to Stephens Timber Corporation.”
“Then you’re moving to Portland?” Claud asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He pulled at the knotted silk tie and found it difficult to look Ashley in the eye.
“Maybe after spring break, if the school administration can replace me. I expect you to send me reports and call me if you have a problem.”
“I think I will handle everything,” Claud stated with his cocky self-assurance. “Your old man didn’t bother to oversee what I was doing.”
“Well I am,” Ashley stated, her eyes glittering with determination. “Because now it’s my reputation on the line.”
“Don’t tell me you believed all those rumors.”
“Gossip is a cheap sort of entertainment for idle minds. What I believe happened in the past doesn’t matter. But, from here on in, we keep our corporate nose clean. Stephens Timber can’t afford any more bad press.” She added emphasis to her words by tapping her fingers on the hood of her car.
Claud grinned broadly. He reassessed his first cousin and his eyes slid appreciatively down her slender body. Ashley Jennings was a woman with class. It was too damn bad she just happened to be Lazarus Stephens’s daughter. “We do have one particular problem,” Claud speculated aloud.
“What’s that?” Ashley had pulled the keys from her purse and her hand was poised over the handle of the car door. She and Claud had never gotten along, but because of the situation, she was forced to trust him, if only temporarily.
“Trevor Daniels.”
“Why is he a problem?” Ashley looked unperturbed and gave no indication of her suddenly racing pulse. After eight years of living with the truth, she was able to react calmly whenever Trevor’s name was mentioned.
“If he gets the senatorial seat in the fall, he’ll put us out of business.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible, Claud.” She turned to face her cousin. Her green eyes were still clear and hid the fact that her heart was pounding erratically.
“He’s always been out to get the family. You, as well as anyone, should know that,” Claud stated.
Ashley felt her body stiffen, but she promised herself not to let Claud’s insensitive remarks affect her.
She straightened before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on her sporty BMW. “Trevor’s family, as well as ours, is involved in the timber business. We’re competitors—that’s all. There’s no way he would be able to ‘put us out of business.”’
Claud’s hands were spread open at his sides. “But you know how he is—he’s trying to get the government to make all the forests into designated wilderness areas. If he gets elected—”
“He’ll try harder.” Ashley’s small hands pushed her away from the car. “But not to the point that it would destroy the timber industry. If he did that, Claud, he’d not only thwart his own family’s business, but he’d also put a lot of his constituents back in the unemployment lines. He’s too smart to do anything of the sort.”
“I can’t figure it out,” Claud said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“What?”
“Why the hell you still stick up for that bastard!”
Ashley raised an elegant eyebrow and smiled confidently. “What happened between Trevor and me has nothing to do with Stephens Timber.”
“Like hell! When are you going to face the fact that the bastard used you, Ashley? And all for a chance at the timber company. He thought you would inherit it all, didn’t he? And then, when your father cut you off, he split! Swell guy.”
“There’s no reason to discuss this any further,” Ashley replied, her cheeks beginning to burn.
“Just remember that he’s out to get Stephens Timber,” Claud warned. “He still thinks Lazarus had something to do with his father’s disappearance.”
Ashley managed to smile sweetly despite the fact that her blood had turned cold. “And just remember who signs your paycheck.”
“You need me,” Claud reminded her.
“Of course I do, and I’d hate to lose your expertise at managing the company. But that’s all I expect from you, and I don’t need any lectures about my personal life.” Her dark brows arched over determined green eyes.
At that moment Claud understood that tangling with his beautiful cousin would be more difficult than he had imagined. It looked as if, after all, Ashley had inherited more than the timber fortune; she also had received some of her father’s resolve. Claud raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right. Just be careful, Ashley. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if Trevor Daniels suddenly started paying a lot of attention to you. You can’t trust him.”
“I think I can deal with Trevor,” Ashley responded with more confidence than she felt. When Claud finally left her alone, she slid into the car, placed her hands on the steering wheel and let the bitter tears of pain slide down her face.
* * *
Trevor opened a weary eye. As he lifted his head the weight of the hangover hit him like a ton of bricks. He was still seated in the leather recliner by the fireplace, and his muscles were cramped from the awkward position and the cold morning air. A half-full glass of Scotch, now stale, sat on the small table near his chair next to the newspaper article that had been the impetus for his uncharacteristic binge. The bold headlines were still visible, but the rest of the article was smeared from the liquor that had slopped over the rim of the glass and spilled onto the newsprint.
Running a tired hand over the stubble on his chin, Trevor stretched and cursed himself for his own lack of control. How many drinks had he consumed while locked in memories of the past—four, five? He couldn’t remember. The last time he had been so drunk was the night of Ashley’s betrayal....
Of their own accord, his vibrant blue eyes returned to the headline: TIMBER BARON DEAD AT 70. The paper was three days old.
“You bastard,” Trevor murmured before wadding the newspaper and tossing it into the smoldering remains of the fire. The paper ignited and was instantly consumed by hungry flames.
The first gray light of dawn was already shadowing the spacious den with the promise of another cold November morning. With an effort, Trevor pulled himself out of the chair and ran his fingers through his thick chestnut hair. His mouth tasted rancid and he wondered if it was from too much liquor, too little sleep or the painful memories of Ashley. The article about the death of Ashley’s father, Lazarus Stephens, had conjured up all the old pain again—the pain Trevor had promised to put behind him.<
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Maybe it was impossible. Perhaps Ashley’s life and his were entwined irrevocably by the sins of their fathers. Whatever the reason, Trevor had difficulty dismissing the image of her shining black hair and intriguing sea-green eyes.
Trevor rubbed his temple as he walked to the window and let his eyes wander outside the house, past the landscaped lawns and through the denuded trees of the estate his father had purchased. He leaned against the windowsill and considered the unlikely course of events that would never allow him to be free of her.
The feud between the two timber families had been long, ruthless and bloody. Rumor had it that sometime before the Korean War, the partners, who owned a small Oregon logging firm, had become embroiled in such a vicious argument that they had parted ways, each vowing to destroy the other. The stories varied slightly but all seemed to agree that the cause of the dispute was graft. Robert Daniels had supposedly caught Lazarus Stephens skimming off company profits for personal use.
The result of the breakup was that Stephens Timber Corporation and Daniels Logging Company became bitter enemies within the Oregon timber industry.
Trevor didn’t know how many of the rumors that had circulated scandalously over the past forty years were true and how many were fictitious. But he was certain of one thing: Lazarus Stephens had been involved in the disappearance of Trevor’s father, Robert Daniels.
Ten years before, when Robert had disappeared, Trevor had sworn that not only would he avenge his father, but he would personally see to it that the people responsible for the crime would be punished. But he had been deterred by his feelings for Ashley.
What had happened to Robert Daniels, after he was last seen leaving the dinner meeting with a lobbyist from Washington, D.C., remained a mystery. And now Lazarus Stephens, Ashley’s father, the one man who knew the answer, was dead.
Ashley. Just the thought of her innocent eyes and enigmatic smile touched a traitorous part of Trevor’s soul. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as if he could physically deny the vivid image of her elegant face surrounded by glossy ebony curls.
