by Marin Thomas
He grinned. “I would if it was for the good of the company.”
After a sizable stretch of silence, she said, “You think I’m an idiot for keeping the farm, don’t you?”
“Not anymore.”
Surprised, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I’m learning this way of life has its advantages.”
Advantages? He had to be kidding. “What advantages?”
“Feeling a sense of accomplishment after a hard day’s work.”
“And?”
“Handling a bunch of cows is a heck of a lot easier than dealing with people.”
“Even Betty? She dug her little hooves in today and refused to be milked.”
“True. But as far as employees go, Betty doesn’t talk back and—” he grinned “—she doesn’t beg for a raise.”
“You act like milking cows is a great way to earn a living.” If you could call her meager income a living.
Nelson turned thoughtful. “Each person has his own definition of success.” Shrugging, he added, “I equate success with money.”
That was a no-brainer.
“But there are people,” he continued, “who don’t make a lot of money, yet are fulfilled and happy with their lives.” He held her hand. She studied their en-twined fingers, baffled by the strength, courage and comfort his grip offered.
“Are you happy, Ellen? Does the farm fulfill you?”
The question startled her. Did she dare lie and say yes? No. Nelson would see through her. “There have been times over the past thirteen years that I’ve felt fulfilled. Mostly before my parents died and there was extra help around the place.” When I had family who cared about me after Buck had lost interest.
“Your husband’s death must have been difficult.”
Was Nelson a mind reader?
His fingers squeezed gently. “Living with your family and marrying so young…you’ve never really been on your own. Until now.”
“I admit that when Buck died, I experienced a period of panic.” Panic her husband had gone off and gotten himself killed and left her with debts she hadn’t been aware of. Thank God his one credit card had had only a five-hundred-dollar balance.
“Do you plan to marry again?” he asked.
She flipped the question around on him. “Are you interested in marrying?” Not to her, of course, but to a rich, Chicago society girl.
“My career doesn’t mix with a wife and family.” He yanked her limp pigtail. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Let me do the milking and the other chores until your leg heals.”
The guy was nuts. “You expect me to sit on the couch and watch talk shows all day while you create havoc in the barn?”
“Yes. Seth will help me.”
The temptation to let him take the reins tugged at her something fierce. She might talk tough, but she recognized she was in no shape to lug fifty-pound milk cans around the barn. And if one of the cows became temperamental, she’d never be able to jump out of the way fast enough to avoid another kick.
Were it just her own welfare she had to worry about…But she had Seth to consider. If anything should happen to her, he’d end up in foster care. Buck’s mother was still breathing, but she lived in a nursing home in Indiana, and his sister drove an eighteen-wheeler for a living. Not the life Ellen would choose for her son.
For God sakes, Ellen, don’t be stupid. You’re tired, hurt and you need rest. Let Nelson help. “Okay. I’ll lay low for a couple of days, but I’m still working at the diner.”
His smile, unabashedly male, was worth the blow to her pride. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he said.
“You can’t—”
“I don’t care for you being alone in the house,” he stated.
Never bothered Buck one bit that she stayed by her lonesome when he worked construction. She decided it was nice to have someone worry about her—even if it was unnecessary.
Nelson got to his feet. “Time for bed.”
Tired of being brave, tired of being alone, just plain tired…Ellen reached for Nelson’s hand.
Chapter Nine
Nelson drove—rather, sped—through Four Corners, hoping Ellen wasn’t staring out the window of Flo’s Diner. If she spotted the car, she’d ring his cell phone and demand to know where he was headed and if Seth, whom he’d dropped off at Brad’s house earlier, was with him.
He’d accompanied Seth to the front door of Brad’s, and after the boys had shuffled down to the basement to play video games, he’d spoken with Brad’s mother, Arlene. He’d volunteered to take the teens to tomorrow’s Fourth of July celebration at the Klayton County Fair in Wayetteville.
Earlier in the morning, after Ellen had departed for the diner, Seth had appeared in the barn. Usually, the boy slept until noon, so Nelson assumed something had driven the kid out of bed. While helping with the milking, Seth had asked if Nelson had ever gone to a country fair. When he’d confessed he’d been to amusement parks and Disney World but never a fair, the teen had insisted Nelson was missing out on a great experience. Nelson doubted it, but didn’t comment. Then Seth let slip—on purpose—that his mother had said they didn’t have the money to go to the fair this year. As Seth had hoped, Nelson agreed to drive him and a friend.
Now, pressed for time, he drove ten miles over the speed limit. A week had passed since Ellen’s injury and he was determined to stick his nose right where she said he could—in her business. He’d decided what to do, but in an uncharacteristic move, he dialed his brother’s cell number on his BlackBerry. He’d never sought Ryan’s counsel in the past and couldn’t figure out why he was doing it now. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Nelson. Didn’t plan to hear from you until the end of the summer. How do the overalls fit?” Ryan teased.
“Not funny. Listen, I need your advice.” Silence. “Ryan, are you there?”
“I’m here. But shocked you’re asking my opinion.”
His brother’s reaction didn’t surprise him. Nelson considered seeking help a weakness, and had developed a habit of bluffing his way through problems he didn’t have a clue how to resolve. Better to bluff than to appear a weak leader in front of his employees. Not that Ryan was his employee, but as the eldest brother, Nelson felt a deep sense of responsibility to be the one his brothers looked up to. “This has nothing to do with company business.”
“Figures. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is a her.”
A bark of laughter blasted through the connection and Nelson’s eardrum protested. “You called the wrong guy. What do I know about women? My wife left me, remember?”
Ryan’s former wife had been a rich debutante, big on charity work and shopping. But when it had come to real life, she hadn’t had a backbone. His wife had displayed her true colors after his brother’s close call with death during the 9/11 attack. Ryan hadn’t even recovered from his injuries before she’d served him with divorce papers.
Nelson figured his brother was better off without the shallow bitch, but Ryan had yet to emerge from the corporate cave he’d holed himself up in since his divorce—six years ago. “It’s not personal, Ryan. It’s business.”
Discussing Ellen was tempting. With his brother’s aid he might understand exactly what it was he felt for the widow. He acknowledged his physical attraction to the pint-sized farmer, and he’d dated enough women in his lifetime to admit Ellen touched him on a deeper level. How deep was the million-dollar question. However, Ryan hadn’t been romantically involved with a woman since his divorce, so Nelson intended to avoid the topic of male-female relationships. “Ellen Tanner is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy and she refuses to sell the farm.”
“What about a bank loan?” Ryan suggested.
“She won’t use the farm as collateral.”
“Why don’t you back her?”
In regard to business acumen, he and Ryan were well matched. Nelson had wrestled with the idea of investing
in Ellen’s farm. But each time he thought of her failing operation, he envisioned his investment dollars being fed into a shredder. “She won’t accept my money.”
“Pride?”
“Prideful, stubborn—”
“Sounds like Aaron’s secretary, Martha,” Ryan cut in.
“Convincing Ellen to accept money from me will be impossible.”
“Then, big brother, convince the bank to accept something of yours as collateral.”
“I could put up my new Jaguar. But how do I keep her from finding out?” Nelson pictured Ellen’s face, dark with anger, when the bank manager explained the terms of the loan.
“Tell her she’s signing insurance papers.”
“That’s underhanded.”
“You have her best interests at heart, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Nelson believed he was helping Ellen because it was the right thing to do and not because he saw her situation as a business challenge he couldn’t walk away from. Are you sure about that? Nelson was tempted to smash the conscience troll that had set up residence in his head the day he’d arrived at the Tanner farm.
“Any chance of a romantic development between you and this Ellen?” Ryan asked, interrupting Nelson’s mental musings.
“She’s a farmer.”
“Jennifer’s a construction foreman. If Aaron had had a problem with that, he wouldn’t be marrying her.”
“I’m not walking down any church aisle. Besides, Ellen has a son.” Nelson believed Seth would jump at the chance to move to Chicago, but he was positive he wouldn’t be around enough to be the kind of father the boy deserved. Or the kind of husband Ellen deserved. He devoted all his energy and time to the company. There was nothing left over for family.
But what if you could find time for a family….
“How old is the boy?”
Ryan’s question broke Nelson’s train of thought.
He wondered if his brother was remembering the child his ex-wife had aborted shortly after their divorce. “Seth is thirteen.” Uncomfortable discussing Ellen and her son, he changed the subject. “How’s Grandfather doing?”
“He’s traveling to County Monaghan in Northern Ireland next week. Says he wants to visit Great-grandpa’s village one more time.”
“One more time? Is he ill?”
“He hasn’t mentioned health problems.”
“Go with him, Ryan. He shouldn’t travel alone.”
“He’s not. He invited someone from Jennifer’s neighborhood to accompany him.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Mrs. Padrón. She’s a widow, and Aaron says they’ve really hit it off.”
A sign welcoming him to the nearby town of Bell sprang up alongside the road and Nelson slowed the car. “She’s not after his money, is she?”
“Always the suspicious one, big brother. Aaron contends the old woman’s intentions are honorable.”
Nelson was shocked by his grandfather’s interest in another woman. After his wife had died in the same plane crash that had killed Nelson’s parents, his grandfather had never revealed a serious interest in another woman. “When is Grandfather due back in the country?”
“In time for Aaron’s wedding in August.”
Now he understood why his grandfather hadn’t pestered him with phone calls the past few weeks. He’d been busy doing his own wooing.
“I’ve got another call beeping in, Nelson. I’d attempt a bank loan. Or convince her to sell to you, then rent the place back to her.”
“Thanks for the advice, Ryan.”
“As if you’ll use any of it.” His brother chuckled.
Before they hung up, Nelson felt compelled to ask, “Everything okay on your end?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Ryan’s standard answer for the past few years. “Take care,” he added, then disconnected the call.
When Nelson arrived in Bell, he decided to first secure the bank loan, then figure out how to convince Ellen to accept it.
“HEY, ELLEN.”
“Hi, Elmer. Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.” Ellen carried two lunch specials to a table near the front window. “Grilled cheese on sourdough, Mrs. Kasper.” The elderly woman smiled her thanks. “And a meat loaf sandwich, burned around the edges, Mr. Kasper.”
“Thank you, missy.” The older man had gone to school with Ellen’s father, but instead of farming, he’d attended college and had become a dentist. Semi-retired, he worked two days a week at a dental office in Bell. “How’s Seth?” he asked.
“He’s doing fine.”
“If the boy’s interested in earning extra cash this summer, my picket fence could use a new coat of paint. He can drop by anytime. Paint cans are in the barn.”
The Kaspers lived in a beautiful, well-preserved 1910 Victorian home surrounded by several hundred acres of leased land. Last year, Seth had helped lay down new gravel in the driveway. Ellen suspected the older couple was aware she struggled to make ends meet. She hated accepting charity, but Seth had been thrilled when he’d used the income to purchase an expensive pair of sneakers he’d been wishing for for some time.
“I’ll be sure to mention it to Seth.” Ellen returned to the breakfast counter and set a fresh cup of coffee in front of Elmer. “The shop keeping you busy?”
The customer owned a car repair business five miles east of Four Corners. Divorced and in his mid fifties, with a touch of gray at the temples and a rock-solid gut, Elmer was a handsome man. For the past five years he’d eaten lunch at the diner twice a week in the hope of catching Flo’s eye. But Flo had sworn off men, and Ellen figured Elmer was old enough to decide for himself if he could hold out another five years for Flo.
“Business is good,” Elmer’s eyes strayed to the kitchen door.
“I’ll tell Flo you’re out here.”
“I’m not here to see Flo. I got news for you.”
“Me?” What kind of news?
“It’s about the feller you hired to work on your farm.”
“Nelson? Why? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t get riled, gal. Your man was in Bell earlier this morning.”
“He’s not my man, Elmer. He’s my employee.”
“Your employee was at the bank.”
“Which bank?” Bell had two.
“The credit union. I was making a withdrawal when I overheard him arguing with the loan manager.”
Why would Nelson be arguing…unless…
“Didn’t think much about it until your name was shouted across the bank lobby.”
Unbelievable. Nelson had gone behind her back to secure a loan—money she didn’t want. Would never be able to pay back. Of all the nerve. She spun on her rubber-soled shoes and stomped into the kitchen. “Flo, I’m taking a break.”
“In the middle of lunch rush?”
“I have to run into Bell—”
“Bell’s forty minutes away.”
Not the way I plan to drive. “Nelson’s stirring up trouble. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She paused at the door and removed her apron. “Elmer’s here. He said he’d help.” She tossed the apron at Elmer. “Flo would appreciate you covering for me.” If she wasn’t so ticked at Nelson, she might have laughed at the way the car mechanic’s mouth flapped wordlessly.
No telling how much damage Nelson had done, she thought as she pulled into the credit union a short time later. She was astonished Nelson’s fancy black sports car remained parked in the lot. If he’d spent this long in the bank, then he had to be scheming more than a loan. Probably a second mortgage on the farm. Forcing herself to remain calm, she parked the truck, then entered the building.
Two bank tellers were helping customers at the counter, and the help desk sat empty. Could Nelson have left his car in the lot while he had lunch across the street at Simon’s Deli? Before she made up her mind to stay or go, a voice drifted out of an office at the far end of the lobby. Curious, she crossed the floor and eavesdropped outside the open door.
The name
etched into the frosted glass read Milton Montrose, Loan Manager. Good ol’ Milt. Ellen had never cared for the man—a high-school classmate of hers. Milton had attended college, then returned to Bell and worked for the credit union ever since.
“Ellen Tanner is a bad risk, Mr. McKade. I don’t know how many other ways I can get that across to you.” Milton’s voice vibrated with frustration.
“If you believe Ellen’s a bad risk, then you’re not familiar with her at all. She’s ethical, upstanding and dependable. I’m confident that if I co-sign the loan, she’ll pay back the money,” Nelson persisted.
Co-sign a loan? No way. She battled the urge to burst into the office and give both men a piece of her mind and her fist. But something held her back. Maybe it was the possessive note in Nelson’s voice when he’d defended her. She’d always fought her own battles—preferred it that way. So why did she all of a sudden feel so alone? If she wasn’t careful, she could become used to Nelson watching her back. But then when he left at the end of the summer, she’d feel betrayed.
“I don’t understand why you care about the Tanner farm. The place has been mismanaged for years. If she’d listened to her husband when he’d been alive and sold the farm when property values around here were worth something, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“The farm is Ellen’s home. Where she desires to raise her son. Reason enough to grant her a loan.”
“The bank doesn’t agree. I have better things to do, Mr. McKade, than argue over a loan that’s not going to materialize.”
A moment later, Nelson stormed out of the office, unaware Ellen hovered behind the door. Before she had a chance to follow, Milton spotted her. His lip curled. “Spying, Ellen?”
“You’re an ass, Milton,” she spat, then hurried off after Nelson. Once outside the bank, she called his name.
He stopped. When she caught up to him, he grumbled, “Aren’t you supposed to be at the diner?”
“Elmer spilled the beans.”
“Who’s Elmer?”
“He owns the Fender-Bender Auto Repair. What made you believe I’d allow you to co-sign a bank loan for me?” She rolled up on her tiptoes, adding another inch to her short height.
