by Elsie Davis
Becky hoped that by arriving this early, Jack would still be home. She took a deep breath, hoping that somehow, she could convince Jack to help his son. Sliding out of the car before she chickened out, she made her way up the grand staircase that led to the double wooden doors. She lifted the wrought-iron ring of the door knocker and tapped it against the metal plate several times. Becky shifted from side to side, the rocking motion something she’d never gotten rid of after Byron was born and spending many long nights rocking him to sleep. The motion was oddly comforting to her, especially when she felt anxious or stressed.
Finally, the door opened, and a uniformed butler stood before her—cold and impersonal, his back ramrod straight. His gaze flicked briefly toward her car and then back at her. “May I help you?” he asked, his voice laced with disdain.
“I’d like to speak with Jack Parker, please.” She tried to speak up and show confidence, but her attempt was a failure, her voice coming out dismally low and soft.
“Mr. Jack Parker is not in residence. And I’m certain you have no appointment with him, as his schedule is clear. Good day, madam.” The butler started to shut the door, dismissing her out of hand.
Try harder. This is for Byron. “Wait!” She held up her hand to stop the door from closing and took a step forward. “Please. Can you tell me where to find him? It’s important.” She hated the tremble in her voice, but this was her last hope.
“I would not be at liberty to inform you of his whereabouts. I suggest you make an appointment to see him. It’s the best I can do to help you.” The butler’s demeanor had changed ever so slightly, a hint of compassion in his eyes, but it did nothing to soften his words. Perhaps he, too, was not a fan of Jack’s, but his job depended on him being professional. She’d probably get nothing out of him.
“Thank you. Do you have his phone number or a way for me to contact him?”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to give out that information.”
Just as she suspected.
“What’s going on down here, Philip?” a vaguely familiar voice called out from somewhere inside.
“A visitor for Jack, sir. It’s under control,” the butler quickly assured whoever had spoken. “She wants his phone number, and I’ve assured her it’s not possible for me to give that information out.”
“I’ll handle this, Philip. If you could let Roberta know I’m ready for breakfast, that would be great. Thank you.”
Becky tried to peer around the butler but still couldn’t see the man who’d joined them.
“As you wish, sir.” Philip turned and walked away.
The door was opened wide, and suddenly she was face-to-face with…Steve?
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
“Becky? I live here. I mean, my family lives here, and I’m staying with them while I’m in town.” He shook his head as if baffled. “The better question is what are you doing here?”
He lived there. He had money. Steve, as in Steve Parker. As in Jack’s older brother.
No. No. No. This was not good. Why hadn’t she made the connection sooner?
“I needed to talk. To Jack,” she clarified. It wasn’t like he didn’t know why she was here, the butler having clued him in.
“So, Philip didn’t misspeak? You’re here to see Jack and not me?” Steve frowned as if the information didn’t sit well with him at all.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” She shrugged, unsure of what else she could say.
“Interesting and disappointing, to say the least.” It was like a wall had been erected in the space of seconds, yesterday’s friendliness between them a thing of the past.
“Jack and I are…friends. I didn’t realize you were his brother. I need to talk to him, but your butler couldn’t tell me how to find him. Can you?” She’d come this far, and she had to keep trying for Byron’s sake.
“If you were friends, you’d know he’s been out of town for a few weeks and isn’t expected back anytime soon.” The cool and aloof tone of his voice signaled the end of the discussion.
The intensity of the moment hit her hard. She’d run into a brick wall. There was no way to get the money now, and Byron wouldn’t have the surgery. Prayer was all she had left that nothing would rupture and cause her son complications. The possibility he could die was more than she could bear.
Becky started to shake, her emotions uncontrollable. Tears filled her eyes and ran down unchecked as she turned away. She stumbled down the step, grateful when Steve caught her, preventing her from tumbling to the bottom in a heap.
“Why do you need my brother?” His gaze was intense and demanding.
“I told you, we’re friends.” Archenemies was more like it, but she could never tell Steve the truth. Jack’s threats loomed over her like a black shadow and forced her to remain silent.
“I see.” Steve nodded. “Wait right here.” He turned and went back inside, returning moments later and handing her a piece of paper.
Becky glanced down and saw Jack’s name and number. She let out a sigh of relief, tears threatening to spill over. “Thank you.”
“You look like you need a friend.” It was all he said by way of explanation.
There’d be no banana split for her today, the pitying look on Steve’s face a clear message. Not that she would go, anyway. Jack’s brother was off-limits in more ways than she could count.
Chapter Four
Steve watched as Becky drove away, her blue car looking like it had seen better days. He shook his head, still unable to believe the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about last night was more than likely one of Jack’s past transgressions. Although, judging from what he’d heard, there were plenty of those to go around.
Giving Becky his number was crossing the line when it came to the unspoken code between brothers, but then being seven years older than Jack had never left them close—especially after his parent’s divorce.
Becky’s tears had been his undoing.
He didn’t buy the friend story. Jack didn’t have women friends, and if he did, they certainly wouldn’t be reduced to tears simply because he was out of town. What he couldn’t understand was why a woman like Becky would be interested in a guy like his brother. He would have thought her smarter than that. Question was, how current was the friendship? Her word choice, not his.
The more he thought about it, the more he started putting together options. Options he didn’t like but very real possibilities. Becky’s questions about paternity laws, and her need for money for her son’s surgery, and then her magical appearance at the Parker mansion, looking for Jack instead of him. They were all signs that pointed in one direction. Was Byron Jack’s son? And if he was, why had Steve never heard about him? Was it possible he was an uncle?
One thing that was for certain, however, was Becky’s surprise to find him in residence. She really hadn’t known who he was, and the thought gave him some comfort.
Steve was determined to get answers to his questions, but in the meantime, he’d let Jack handle his own mess when it came to Becky and whatever she needed from him. Jack was too much like their father, a favorite with the ladies but low on commitment. But unlike his father, Jack hadn’t married the girl he got pregnant. Worse still, he hadn’t claimed the boy as his son.
His father might be a selfish jerk, but if Steve’s suspicions were right, Jack was worse. Much worse.
There was always the possibility he was way off base, but his gut told him differently.
It was either that or Becky was a gold-digger. He wasn’t a betting man, but if he was, his odds were on Jack as a DBD. His brother wasn’t exactly a stand-up guy.
Steve went back into the house to get his breakfast, surprised to discover his mother beat him there. She wasn’t much of a breakfast person or a morning person in general. “Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning.�
�� Impeccably dressed and not a hair out of place, his mother reached for her teacup, her hand weighed down by rings set with stones that all but shouted her wealth to everyone she met. In case one couldn’t tell by her clothes and fancy up-do or the chauffeur who drove her around in a Rolls Royce through what some called a two-horse town.
“What brings you to the breakfast table, Mother?”
“Do I need a reason to talk to my son? It’s not like you come to see me often, so I’m sure there’s a reason for your visit. I’m just not one to sit around and wait on you to find the time to tell me.” His mother knew him well.
“Actually, I’m in town to talk to the Judge. He canceled on me yesterday, but I’m hoping to meet up with him later. I’ve got to get back to Houston. My campaign is ramping up, and the face of the election is missing in action.”
“What’s so important with your father?” She looked at him, suspicion in her eyes. He wasn’t his father, but after the divorce, his mother found it difficult to trust anyone. Not that he blamed her. Olivia Parker always got straight to the point, one of the few things they had in common.
“It’s a business matter. There are some grumblings coming from the Cattleman’s Association, and I’m just looking to see what the Judge may or may not have heard. It’s a sensitive subject and one that requires handling in person.”
There was a lot more to it than that, but it wasn’t information he intended to share. Riverbend was a small town, and the bridge club she frequented consisted of nothing more than a group of old biddy gossipy women that sat around talking about others during their frequent social hour.
“I see.” She took a dainty sip from her teacup. “It would be nice if you came to Hallbrook once in a while.”
“I’m busy, Mother.” He shrugged. She should understand that his work came first. It was the lesson his father had taught him well.
“The other women in our club are always flaunting their children’s visits. Imagine how it looks when I have two sons who never bother to visit.”
“Perhaps you should be having this conversation with Jack. He’s the one living off your good graces. He should have plenty of time to play the patronizing son.” Steve couldn’t keep the derision out of his voice. His brother was never a good topic, now more than ever.
“How long are you in town for?”
“Too long.” Long enough to hopefully get some leads on who was targeting Tumble County landowners and foreclosing on their properties. There were too many in a concentrated area to be considered a coincidence.
“Hopefully, that’s long enough for me to show you off, prove I really do have a son.” She jutted her chin upward, matching the haughty expression on her face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the ladies are waiting for me at the bridge club.” His mother gave him one of her infamous stiff-air hugs and then left. Hopefully, he’d be long gone before she had the chance to parade him around town like a prized pet.
Steve spent the rest of the day talking to a couple of the landowners personally, trying to find out their story. His expertise in ferreting out information might lead him to the root of the problem, but it would do nothing to save the landowners already caught up in an unfair situation.
Of course, in the middle of all that, he’d shown up at the ice cream shop just to confirm his suspicions Becky would be a no-show. Her absence proved him right. He still hadn’t gotten over the shock of her showing up at the mansion and asking for his brother, the whole scene not sitting well with him.
The image of her face as tears rolled down her cheeks never far away, the day went by unbearably slow, the evening worse. Becky might be his brother’s problem, but his desire to protect the underdog was strong.
But that’s where his interest had to end.
…
The next morning, Steve poured a cup of coffee and stared out across the back forty. Acres and acres of land that belonged to his mother, acreage she didn’t use. The tall grasses waved gracefully as the wind gusted. Whoever was buying up land wouldn’t come after anything the Parkers owned, but no one else was safe. Some of the families had been on their properties for generations, and it was wrong for someone to take unfair advantage of them for financial gain.
His phone rang, and he picked up the call. “Hey, Eric, what’s up?” His best friend had been gone the past two weeks, on his honeymoon of all things. Something Steve hadn’t been able to talk him out of doing when he first got engaged. Not that he hadn’t tried.
“Just checking in to let you know I survived the honeymoon.” Eric laughed. “All your dire warnings have yet to materialize.” His laughter only grew louder.
“Give it time. Or maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones. I hope so for your sake. And Jen’s a great girl.” He meant it. His friend had found a wonderful woman, and he truly hoped they proved him wrong. The last thing he wanted for Eric was for him to go through what he’d witnessed growing up.
“Rome was amazing, but it’s good to be back in Texas. I’m ready to get things in order and on schedule.” Once upon a time, Eric had been a workaholic, but Jen had put her foot down, demanding he learn to balance his work with his personal life. His friend was still working on it but was well on his way to accomplishing just that.
“Two weeks away will be tough to catch up. But if anyone can do it, it’ll be you.”
“That’s because I’m willing to delegate, unlike you, who always has to control every last detail of the case.”
“That’s true, but only because Jen made you learn. Unlike me, which is why I’m in Riverbend.” Although the things he needed to accomplish here weren’t exactly anything he could delegate to someone else.
“Riverbend? I thought you hated that place.” Eric was surprised, but no more so than he’d been when he decided to make the trip.
“I do, but business brought me here. I’m working on some leads for the Cattlemen’s Association. They filed a complaint citing unfair practices and claim there’s some sort of big business collusion forcing out ranchers and farmers from their property in Tumble County. It’s not my job to investigate it, but you and I both know where there’s any hint of unfair practices and politics, the Judge is sure not to be far away.”
“You do know that’s your father you’re talking about, right?”
“Yes. And it’s more than likely the reason the lead investigator asked me to talk to him. To all outward appearances, I’m simply doing a routine check into their claims, but I’m hoping to do a whole lot more than that. I’m working behind the scenes with the Association to figure out what’s going on before any other landowners end up on the chopping block.”
“Great idea. Your dad would have a cow if he heard you were working with the Association and it turns out he’s on the other side. So how’s the campaign going?”
Eric wasn’t far off in his assessment of the judge. “Not as well as I expected. Harry said I’m falling behind because I’m not married and therefore not presenting the stable ‘family man’ image that most district attorneys have had in the past. He had the audacity to tell me to go round up a wife.” The outlandish idea was still mind-boggling.
“Your career is everything to you. So do it. Jen has a friend she’s been pushing me to introduce you to. Just make sure you’re on the up and up with the woman or I’ll never hear the end of it. Make it worth her while and you’ll have no problem.”
“You’re kidding, right? When it comes to women and the word marriage, there are always problems. And you know I don’t believe in it, anyway.”
His friend might be okay with it, but saddling himself with a bride expecting a happily ever after, or at the very least half of his net worth, was like asking him to wrestle a crocodile. Chances were he’d lose.
“Don’t condemn what you don’t personally know,” Eric said. “Marriage would be a means to get elected. Keep it in perspective. If you’re to be believed, it
’s not like you’re ever going to have a real marriage, so why not arrange a convenient one to your benefit? And hers, whatever it may be. You wouldn’t be the first couple to do that, or the last. And who knows? Maybe if you spend enough time with someone, it might even work out.”
“I think you spent too much time in Rome living and breathing love and it’s addled your brain.” Steve shook his head. A marriage of convenience? This was the twenty-first century, last time he checked.
Eric seemed to wave away the jab. “Whether you like it or not, Harry is probably right, and it’s your best possible solution. If you change your mind, Jen’s friend’s name is Michelle. We can all meet for drinks or something.”
“You’re forgetting one thing. An arranged marriage takes two people. What would Jen’s friend gain from a political match? Or would she be looking for a real relationship? Most people are.”
“Just think about it. When are you getting back to Houston? Jen wants to have you over to dinner, which is why I was calling in the first place.” Eric wasn’t giving up, but Steve had no intention of giving in, either. Michelle could find her own man.
“Hopefully by Friday. I’m trying to get an audience with the Judge to get a sense of what’s going on and the level of his involvement, and I’ve got a private meeting with the Association on Thursday.”
“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” They finished their call, and Steve hung up, Eric’s words still ringing in his head.
Marriage.
Not if he could help it. He’d watched his parents muddle through their marriage with fights and anger until they finally got a divorce. It had been enough to convince him the state of holy matrimony was more like a state of hell.
Steve downed the rest of his coffee and headed out the door, his father’s latest text vibrating in his pocket. Putting him off yet again—no surprise. Steve’s thoughts drifted toward Becky and her situation. The woman needed help, but he wasn’t sure she’d be keen on him being the one providing the help if what he suspected about Jack was true. There was only one way to find out the truth, and it started with asking Becky some point-blank questions. The fear in her eyes had been crystal clear, as well as her determination to leave once she had Jack’s phone number. After he’d had time to think about it, his protective instinct had gone into operational mode, and there was no way he was leaving without answers.
