All God's Promises (A Prairie Heritage Book 7)

by Vikki Kestell

  “Most of your businesses and other operating assets are solely owned by you, meaning they are not publicly traded,” he told her. “Depending upon the entity’s size and needs, the day-to-day administration is by a management staff or, for the large concerns, by a board of directors. I hold the title of Chairman on all boards and management teams; however, I primarily provide oversight and auditing authority. A CEO or VP leads the board or team and runs the business.”

  The breadth and depth of Peter Granger’s estate boggled Kari’s mind. And, as the reality of what Kari owned became clearer, so grew the terrifying and heavy weight of it.

  So, too, grew the conviction that she should not bow to the temptation to relegate the management of the estate entirely to someone else—merely so she could live a carefree life. At the very least, she needed to be familiar with the scope of her holdings and participate, even marginally, in its management.

  “I don’t want the life of the nouveau riche,” Kari confided to Oskar one morning in the car. Miss Fletcher was not with them on this occasion, and Kari felt able to speak more openly.

  “I don’t want a lazy, unproductive, unfruitful life. I want my life—and my money—to count for something, something for God. I hope you will help me learn to be a good steward of what God has given me.”

  Oskar had studied her, not certain she really wanted to hear his advice.

  “Please, Oskar. I need direction. Guidance.”

  “Then I will tell you what my father told me,” Oskar said at last. “If you truly want your life to be fruitful, you must discipline and prepare yourself for hard work and service to others. You must pray and develop a good plan—a plan under the Lord’s guidance. Then you must give yourself to that plan. Wholeheartedly.

  “If you apply yourself, you may, someday, feel confident enough to manage many of these holdings yourself and make decisions as the Lord directs you.”

  He paused before adding, “You are in a unique position, Kari. Yes, you, a woman living in what is mostly a man’s world, are the owner of all these businesses and properties. But if, as a woman, you wish to be taken seriously by the many men who, essentially, work for you, then you must strive to become a woman they will respect, a woman of understated authority and decorum.”

  He hesitated a moment more. “I have two daughters, you know, Scarlett and Suzanne. Suzanne, the older of the two, is happily married. She has given us two beautiful grandchildren and is happy with the life she has chosen.

  “But Scarlett? She earned a B.A. and has completed her last year of law school. She’s different from Suzanne. She is ambitious—in a good way—and has a steady head on her shoulders.”

  He sighed. “Times are changing. The fact that I don’t have a son to carry on in the family business . . .”

  Kari stared at the older man. “Then why can’t she?”

  “Twenty years ago, that suggestion would not have held water, but now? And in the coming years? I’m happy that Scarlett has opportunities no women in our family have ever had. The world is full of opportunities for her, but I hope she will choose to come back here. We’ll see.”

  When Kari first met Oskar, she had thought of him as only a younger version of Clover. Now Kari was coming to know and understand Oskar as his own person—an intelligent, wise, and people-savvy individual. She was beginning to acknowledge that it was Oskar who was the real genius behind the good condition of her many holdings. Wherever they went, his quiet and judicious manner influenced the outcomes of many board meetings and management decisions.

  Kari was starting to recognize, too, that Oskar was the single individual she trusted to oversee her holdings.

  While I am available, it would behoove me to learn all I can from him and his example.

  So Kari determined to apply herself and follow Oskar’s lead. She bought a briefcase and took home work she could do from her office. She studied prospectuses and account holdings, and reviewed recent earnings and market trends. She went to the university library and researched her own companies, looking at their past performance, but also looking at their public face.

  If I own these companies, I want to be sure that they are projecting integrity, she told herself.

  By herself, she revisited an apartment complex she owned. She walked the grounds and studied the complex’s eight buildings, looking for practical and cosmetic improvements, and jotting them down to suggest to Oskar.

  Lord, I wish for these tenants to be pleased with and proud of where they live.

  After a few weeks, she knew that she was beginning to learn. When Oskar would refer to a specific holding, she had a good picture in her mind of the business or property.

  She was gratified when Oskar commented on her progress.

  “You have an aptitude for business, Miss Kari, and you have natural instincts. Instincts are vital and they cannot be taught—which makes them an especially valuable commodity. You still have much to learn, particularly about the politics of business, but I’m pleased at the speed with which you are picking things up.”

  They had spoken for quite some time after that, and Kari began to pray about the glimmer of an idea that was forming in her mind.

  I hope Oskar will advise me when the time is right, when I have a well-thought-out plan to present to him.

  —

  THAT EVENING KARI CLEANED UP AFTER HERSELF and waited in her office for Søren to call. When he did, Kari was surprised when he asked, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  Kari’s eyes darted to her desk calendar. “Thanksgiving?”

  “It’s two weeks from tomorrow. Do you have plans?”

  “Um, no. Nope.”

  “Well, why don’t you come here? Spend a week with us.”

  Kari fell back against her chair, first astonished and then excited. “Really?”

  “Of course, really.” He added, under his breath, “If you’re a little cash-strapped, I’m sure Ilsa and I can scrape together enough for a ticket.”

  “Søren! Don’t be ridiculous.” Kari paused a beat. “Although I’m not sure if I have enough in my piggy bank. I’ll have to break it and see what’s in there.”

  They laughed at that, and Kari was glad that she and Søren always found something humorous in their nightly conversations.

  “Well, listen, Kari. If you fly into the nearest city, we will pick you up. And if you come early, say the Sunday or Monday before Thanksgiving, you’ll miss the worst of the airport craziness—and we’ll have you for more than a long weekend.”

  “Well, I . . .” Kari stopped herself. Family! She could think of nowhere in the world she would rather be on Thanksgiving than with family.

  “Yes. Yes, I’ll come!” Kari heard a war whoop in the background and giggled. Max had obviously been listening for her answer.

  A week in RiverBend? The grin on her face grew larger. “I love it,” she added. “I love everything about it! I’d better get reservations first thing tomorrow. I hope it’s not too late.”

  —

  KARI CALLED MISS DAWES SOON AFTER the offices of Brunell & Brunell opened in the morning.

  “Good morning, Miss Dawes.”

  “Good morning, Miss Kari. How are you this morning?”

  “Well, actually, I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving. My cousins in Nebraska have asked me to spend the week with them. Of course I need to learn how to do this myself, but would you be so kind as to book a flight for me this one time?”

  “Certainly. And in the future, if you wish to make your own travel arrangements, I can give you the name and number of our agency.”

  They discussed the timeframe and Kari hung up knowing Miss Dawes would handle the details in her own inimitable manner.

  A week with Søren, Ilsa, and Max! She was bursting with the news, so she called Ruth.

  “Hey, Ruth! Are you with a client?”

  “Not at the moment, Cookie. What’s up?”

  “Søren and Ilsa invited me to spend Thanksgiving with them!”r />
  “How wonderful, Kari. I’m so happy for you.”

  “What will you be doing that weekend?”

  “Oh, goodness! No lack of what to do, I assure you. I have three kids and their families here in Albuquerque. It means a house bursting at the seams on Thanksgiving—not to mention days of preparations beforehand.”

  “Well, I am leaving early so I can help Ilsa get ready. I imagine we’ll have a horde of cousins over while I’m there.”

  “And will you go there for Christmas, too?”

  Kari hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Wow. I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought about it. What will you do for Christmas?”

  “I usually go to my daughter’s in upstate New York. It’s the one time of year when I can put work aside for two weeks and spend quality time with the grandkids who don’t live nearby.”

  Ruth has such a full life with her children and grandchildren, Kari thought. I am so grateful to have anyone—even distant cousins—to call my own.

  Christmas? Hmmm . . .

  After they hung up, Kari wandered through the foyer and living room, visualizing how she might decorate her home for Christmas.

  The tree could go there—or there! I could twine garlands around the bannisters all the way up to and across the mezzanine. And I would want poinsettias—lots of them! And—

  She stopped, struck with a tantalizing thought.

  Why not?

  —

  KARI STEPPED THROUGH THE AIRPLANE’S DOOR AND GASPED. The wind that buffeted her had a sharp, penetrating bite to it.

  “Welcome to fall in Nebraska!” she muttered.

  She pulled her coat close and hurried down the flight of steps to the tarmac. She heard Max before she saw him.

  “Kari! Kari! Over here!”

  Kari looked for and found Max’s waving hand in the small crowd waiting for the passengers to deplane. The hardy souls were bunched together against the chilling wind.

  Then Kari caught sight of Søren behind Max. Max’s grin was huge—and Søren’s grin matched his son’s. Kari half-ran to them and was swept into their open arms.

  Kari laughed aloud. “You are both smiling like Cheshire cats!”

  “What’s a Cheshire cat?” Max demanded.

  “She can tell you later. Let’s get out of the cold first.” Søren, ever practical, pulled them toward the little terminal.

  Max chattered nonstop on the drive to the farm, and Kari loved it. Søren, for his part, smiled and occasionally put in a word or two.

  I’m home! Kari’s heart sang as they raced down the highway. Well, my Nebraska home, that is.

  She recognized the turnoff to RiverBend and rubbernecked as they motored down the single street and under the lone blinking light. Then they were in the country, surrounded by the stubble of harvested fields. The occasional patch of snow reminded her that RiverBend had already experienced a taste of the coming winter.

  She sat forward when Søren’s car drove along the edge overlooking the river. A mile later, they crested the bluff, and he drove slowly down the sloping road bordering Rose’s homestead.

  Kari had eyes only for the tiny house nestled in the hollow of the bluff—not the creek alongside it, or Søren’s farm beyond. Only Rose and Jan’s little house.

  The wind was particularly harsh as they descended and its icy fingers buffeted the car and found its way inside through every crack.

  Rose’s house looks so alone. So cold and fragile.

  Kari craned her neck to keep the listing house in view as they mounted the wooden bridge spanning the creek.

  I can’t let it fall to pieces. I need to do something to keep it standing, she decided.

  Her week on the farm was all Kari could have asked for. Lars and Dalia Thoresen, cousins from the farm next door, would be joining them, as would their entire brood and a handful of friends and relations from the neighborhood.

  Dalia, Ilsa, and Kari baked and cooked days in advance. When they weren’t in the kitchen, Ilsa and Kari were cleaning house and pulling out the silver, linens, and best dishes to give them a good cleaning.

  “I hate to put you out, Kari, but the guest room bathroom is the only downstairs toilet we have—the upshot of this house originally being built before indoor bathrooms. And believe me when I say we will need both bathrooms on Thursday,” Ilsa informed Kari.

  “It’s not a problem. I will pack all my things away and make sure the bathroom is tidy.”

  Thanksgiving morning Søren and Max moved sofa and easy chairs to the corners of the long living room/dining room and hauled in three long folding tables from the barn. Then they brought in a dozen folding chairs to add to their six dining chairs.

  “Will this be enough?” Kari asked as she wiped down the folding chairs.

  “Lars is bringing over another dozen and we have a card table the teens will sit at.”

  Thanksgiving dinner was both riotous and holy. Kari could not stop smiling although she spent more time watching and listening than talking.

  After she helped Ilsa serve dessert, Søren sidled up to her. “You seem to be having a good time even if you are a bit quiet.”

  “I’m soaking it all in, Søren. It is charming, all of it—even the kids’ squabbles and the noise of six different conversations going on at the same time.”

  He snorted. “Charming? I’d call it chaos myself.”

  “Yes, but it’s glorious chaos, isn’t it? You don’t know how belonging to all this fills a deep hole in my heart. I’ve never known such contentment.”

  Søren studied her for a moment and then, as though making up his mind, took her hand and tugged her toward the back door. “C’mon. I want to talk to you.”

  He pulled their coats, hats, and gloves off the hooks next to the door. When they were bundled up, they walked down toward the barn.

  “Let’s go inside. It’s warmer.”

  It was, as he said, warmer in the barn. The twenty stamping milk cows and Søren’s two bays generated their own heat.

  Søren pulled some carrot tops from his pocket and fed them to the horses. Kari leaned over the Dutch door and rubbed one bay’s soft nose. He snuffled her hand, but when he found nothing to eat, he swung his head back to Søren.

  “So you wanted to talk?” For some reason, Kari’s heart was pounding.

  “I do, Kari.” He brushed off his hands and faced her. “The truth is, I want to know if you feel differently now than you did in July.”

  “About what?” Kari wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

  He huffed. “You know about what. About us, Kari. You and I. We are so suited for each other, and Max already loves you. He has ‘suggested’ on numerous occasions that you would make a good mom.”

  “He has, has he?” Then Kari stalled. “Wouldn’t people talk about us being cousins and all?”

  Søren’s snort made Kari smile in spite of herself. “Like I told you before, we’re half cousins—and cousins so far removed that I haven’t figured out if we’re third, fourth, or fifth cousins.”

  He looked sideways at her and waggled an eyebrow. “We might make some cute kids, though.”

  “That’s an alluring thought, Søren, but I’m pushing forty. It’s a little late to start making babies.”

  Søren took Kari’s arm and gently turned her toward him. “Look at me. I love you, Kari. You and I love the Lord in the same way—we would be equally yoked. You and I and Max could have a good life together. What do you say? Will you marry me?”

  He wanted to kiss her—she could see it in his eyes. He was leaning, just a little, toward her, waiting for her permission, and she was starting to think how inviting his lips looked, starting to wonder how they would feel on hers.

  But it still hasn’t been that long since I was married to David. And as Christians, we can’t indulge in flirting. I must be honest: Am I ready for marriage? A real, holy marriage before the Lord? Am I ready to make that kind of commitment?

  She hadn’t realized she was frowni
ng until Søren released her arm and backed up a step.

  “It doesn’t look like you feel the same way I do.”

  Kari sighed. “Søren, if I went with how I feel, I would throw my arms around your neck and kiss you right now. However, how I feel is not quite in sync with what I believe is right or prudent at this time—what I believe God is speaking to me.

  “Nothing would make me happier than to become Kari Thoresen in name and fact, to become Max’s mother and your wife. You are both so dear to me, but . . .”

  Søren was watching her closely. “But?”

  “But I’m not sure. I am hesitant, as though the timing is not right. If it were God’s will and his timing, wouldn’t I feel more confident?”

  He nodded. “Yes, you would. And I would not want either of us to make another mistake. We should both be sure and certain about entering into marriage. So, you will think about it? Pray about it?”

  “Yes. I will think about it, of course, but mostly I will pray about it.”

  He smiled. “That’s fine then, and I guess you must be right about the timing. However, I wanted to be up-front with you about my feelings and intentions: I love you. When the time is right, when God says it is right and you are confident in his direction, I hope you will return my affection.”

  He drew her into a soft embrace. “I want you to know my heart, Kari. I don’t want you to be in any doubt of my love for you.”

  Kari leaned her cheek on his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him—hay, strong soap, shaving cream, and something else, something distinctively Søren.

  “I want you here with us, Kari. Always,” he whispered into her hair.

  A little jolt ran through her. Here? Always? But . . .

  She had, for a few days, left the weight of Peter Granger’s estate back in New Orleans. Now that weight returned, pressing on her, reminding her of her responsibilities.

  But I can’t . . .

  She said nothing of what she was feeling. Instead, she murmured back, “I promise to pray until I know God’s will, Søren. That is what I promise.”

  —