by Carolyn Hart
Mr. Williams’ face was suddenly very still.
“I mean, I’m not part of the family. I was just . . .”
“His ward. Of course, I know all about you.”
So it wasn’t going to be so hard, after all. Serena leaned back and relaxed. “Then you’ll know what is left of my parents’ estate. Uncle Dan always explained to me that the money he put into my checking account was from my parents. That’s what I used for college and everything.”
But Mr. Williams was shaking his head. “Actually, young lady, there was scarcely anything left when your folks died. I know because I helped clear up the estate. Your dad was just getting his start as a rancher and he was so much in debt that it took everything to satisfy the claimants.”
“But the money Uncle Dan put into my account . . .”
Mr. Williams smiled. “Dan McIntire was a generous man—and he loved you very much.”
“I see,” Serena said slowly. “I see.”
All those years, Uncle Dan had supported her as a member of his family. Serena thought of her college years, of the trip to Europe after graduation, of the sense of freedom and independence it had given her to have her “own” money. It had always been there, a bulwark against the future.
Now that security was gone, just as Castle Rock—for her—was gone.
“Serena.”
She looked up at Mr. Williams.
“I don’t want to pry, but what prompts your concern about money?”
She managed a smile. “Not having any.”
“Oh, but that’s not the case. Certainly not so long as you stay at Castle Rock.”
“What do you mean?” she asked sharply.
He hesitated, then said good-humoredly, “Just what I said. You certainly won’t lack for funds so long as you stay at Castle Rock.”
“But I can’t stay,” she said unhappily.
“Why not?” His voice was sharp.
She spread her hands. “Julie told me to leave.”
He frowned. “Why did she do that?”
“I don’t really know,” Serena said quietly. “She came into the office yesterday, where I was working on the books, and said I would have to go.”
“She can’t do that.” He paused. “Look, Serena, I called the ranch yesterday afternoon and asked that all of the family and you come to my office tomorrow for a meeting.”
“No one told me.”
“I’m telling you now. The meeting will be at four tomorrow afternoon and I will explain the provisions of Dan McIntire’s will.”
“I’m not part of the family,” she said, a little unsteadily.
“No,” he agreed, “but the will directly affects you, too, my dear.”
The next day, Serena’s mood alternated between hope and despair. On the one hand, lawyers do not speak loosely. If Mr. Williams thought she could stay on the ranch, perhaps she could. Then Serena would recall Julie’s face and the words spoken almost casually, “. . . we won’t need the room until the end of the week . . .”
What could Serena do if Julie opposed her return to the ranch? Nothing, absolutely nothing. As she faced that cold truth, her spirit would droop and she would once again look at the tiny print of the want ads and feel that now familiar flutter of panic. What kind of skills could she offer an employer? She could keep books. She understood the workings of a big ranch. She could ride a horse. Not much there to earn a job in the city.
The next day she checked out of the motel at noon. She almost felt it was an omen. If Mr. Williams were right, she wouldn’t have to spend another night looking at the bare tan walls of a cheap motel room, hearing the faint but irritating murmur of the next-door TV, the rush of water in nearby baths.
She reached the law offices at five minutes to four. The receptionist recognized her and smiled. “They are in the conference room down the hall, Miss Mallory. Go right on in.”
Serena saw Julie first, of course. She was wearing a Kelly green blazer and a crisp white skirt. Her blonde hair hung softly, swirling onto her shoulders. For an instant, she and Serena stared at each other.
“Come in, Miss Mallory, we’ve been waiting for you,” Mr. Williams boomed. “Take a seat here, my dear, and I’ll give everyone a copy of the will.” He bustled around the room, handing everyone, even Peter, a blue-backed copy of the will, then he took his place at the head of the table.
Serena sat next to Danny. He turned and whispered excitedly, “Serena, I knew you weren’t gone for good. That’s what Julie said, but I knew it wasn’t true.” His blue eyes looked at her imploringly.
She smiled and gave him a quick hug. “I don’t know, Danny. We’ll see.”
Mr. Williams slipped on his horn-rim glasses. “I called all of the interested parties together . . .”
Peter interrupted. “Miss Mallory is not an heir.”
Mr. Williams nodded. “That’s right, Mr. Carey, but she is a legatee.” He cleared his throat, “Now, as I started to explain, I wanted to present the main provisions of the will to all of you in person because this is a very complicated instrument. All of you will be able to study it at your leisure, but, for now, I’ll sum it up as simply as I can.” He looked around the table and for the first time Serena noticed how intelligent and penetrating his eyes were. “To put it in a nutshell, Castle Rock belongs to Danny. Mr. McIntire had made earlier provisions for his sister, Jessica, and she is barred from inheriting from his estate.
“The bulk of the estate, the ranch and its operating capital, are left in trust to Danny. He will inherit all of it outright at his twenty-first birthday. Until Danny comes of age, Miss Serena Mallory will administer the ranch. Miss Mallory will receive a minimum of two thousand dollars a month in salary and, further, ten percent of the ranch’s profits every year.”
“Wait a minute,” Julie said angrily. “Wait a minute, Serena can’t just take over the ranch.”
Mr. Williams looked at her quizzically. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs. Carey.”
“She’s nobody,” Julie said viciously. “She isn’t part of the family.”
“Let me explain,” the lawyer said smoothly. “It isn’t a matter of taking over the ranch, Mrs. Carey. Not at all. This is the disposition Mr. McIntire wanted. He told me, as a matter of fact, that Miss Mallory knew more about the workings of the ranch than either you or your brother, Mr. Pritchard. For that reason, he named Miss Mallory to run the ranch until Danny comes of age. He felt that a monthly salary and a percentage of the ranch profits would be a fair recompense. And, of course, she would live at the ranch and therefore not have any living expenses.”
The last was put in so smoothly, but Serena knew that Mr. Williams was making it absolutely clear, down to the last decimal, that Serena had her place at Castle Rock.
“Hey, it’s a wonderful plan,” Will said eagerly. “It’s a swell idea.” He looked at Serena hopefully. “You’re going to take it on, aren’t you, Serry?”
They were all looking at her now, Mr. Williams, Julie, Peter, Will, and Danny.
Serena stared down at the conference table, at the broad glistening expanse of oak, and she could almost, in her mind, see Uncle Dan’s face in the shining wood. Uncle Dan had loved her and cared for her for so many years, and now he was asking her to take care of his adored grandson.
Serena lifted her head and said simply, “Of course I’ll come back to Castle Rock.”
It took every ounce of Serena’s determination to walk into the hacienda that evening. She had every right to be there. Uncle Dan’s will had made that clear. Still, she couldn’t help dreading that initial moment.
What would Julie do?
The family and the dudes always gathered in the den before dinner. Serena slowly approached.
Tonight, Julie was smiling as she talked to one of the dudes. Julie wore blue, of course, a brilliant metallic blue. The pleated silk skirt flared out in a circle. She was talking to . . . Serena searched her mind. So much had happened that the dudes had receded in her mind and
now, taking up life again at Castle Rock, she needed to bring them back into focus. Julie was talking to John Morris, the stocky professor. His co-author, George VanZandt, was deep in conversation with Jed. Serena noticed that both the men were sunburned. They must have taken some time off from their work.
Serena saw Jed with a flicker of surprise. He must be eating with the family and the dudes now. At Julie’s invitation? It must be.
Will and Peter and Danny and the Minters completed the group this evening. The Minters stood by themselves, looking bored.
Julie half-turned and saw Serena. Still smiling, she moved forward, holding out her hand.
“Serena, honey, we’re glad you’ve changed your mind and come back home. Peter and I both are thrilled.”
Serena allowed Julie to take her hand. She even smiled in return. So that was to be the story, that Serena had left to seek a career then changed her mind. It made her look a little erratic. But that was all right. She was so happy to be home that she didn’t care how they carried it off.
After dinner, George VanZandt came up to talk to her. “I hope, Miss Mallory, that you don’t think John and I are too self-serving, since we have continued our stay here even though you and the family have had such a tragic loss.”
“Not at all,” she said quickly though she had been a little surprised. The Rhodes had insisted upon leaving after Uncle Dan’s death and had agreed to come back to the ranch later in the summer. The ranch had cancelled all bookings for the remainder of the month and they had half-expected that all the guests would leave. The fact that the Minters stayed didn’t surprise Serena. They were so deficient in manners that nothing they did would occasion too much comment. But she had been a little disappointed that those nice men, Mr. Morris and Mr. VanZandt, had made no effort to cut short their stay.
“We would have left,” VanZandt said earnestly, “but we are faced with a deadline. We have made every effort to keep out of the way this last week.”
Serena had been too grieved and too busy to notice, but she said quickly, “I know you did. We appreciate it. Really, now we will be back to normal or as close as we can come to it this summer.”
Mr. VanZandt smiled. “Then you won’t mind if John and I continue our task.”
“No. That’s fine.”
He paused, then asked diffidently, “Am I correct in understanding that you are taking over management of the ranch?”
It still came as a shock to see herself as head of Castle Rock. But her new responsibilities excited and pleased her, too. “Yes.” She took a quick breath. “I only hope I can do it justice.”
“Oh you will, Miss Mallory. I’m sure of it.” He paused again, was almost ready to speak, then seemed to change his mind. “Well,” he said abruptly, “I wish you the best of luck.”
Serena looked after him curiously when he walked away. For an instant, she had sensed tension and a hint of something more to come, something important, then it was over and he was walking away. Serena shook her head. She must be getting nervy, since so much had happened. There couldn’t be anything that George VanZandt could say to her that would really matter. Then she forgot about the odd moment, pushed it to the recesses of her mind, because Jed was walking toward her. Something in his expression made it very hard for her to breathe.
As neatly and efficiently as bulldogging a calf, he edged her down the room and out the French windows onto the shadowy terrace. They walked deep into the darkness beneath the magnolia. The thick sweet smell of the magnolia blossom enveloped them.
“Serena,” he said huskily, “I’m glad you came back.”
She was in his arms and his mouth sought hers hungrily, eagerly, demandingly. The moment stretched into a warm rushing flood of timelessness. There was nothing in the world but the two of them, pressed together, nothing but the roar of blood in her head and the surging heat of desire.
She didn’t care about the ranch or Julie or her uncertainties about Jed, who he was and why he had come and his relationship with Julie. Everything was swept away in the glory of that moment and she wanted to hold onto him forever.
Abruptly, the lights that speared into every corner of the patio blazed into brilliance.
Jed dropped his arms from around her and stepped back. Serena felt exposed and defenseless. She raised a hand to shade her eyes.
Julie stood in the French window looking down toward the magnolia.
“Jed, are you there?”
“Sure.” He started up the path.
Serena hesitated, then, feeling like a fool, followed him.
Julie made a little pirouette and her silky blue skirt swirled seductively. “Why, I can’t start dancing without my favorite cowboy.”
“Dancing?” Serena asked, her voice stiff.
Julie looked past Jed, raised one perfect eyebrow. “Serena, I didn’t see you there. But, of course, we should dance. Uncle Dan wouldn’t want us to go moping about, draped in black. You know that.”
She did know that. Still, the boisterous sound of the music spilling out onto the patio seemed too soon and heartless. She almost said so, but Julie was holding Jed’s arm now, drawing him inside.
He went without a backward glance.
A bright red flush came up in Serena’s face. She stood for an instant in the French window. Jed and Julie were already dancing, her body molded to his.
Serena began to walk quickly across the room, her head high. Peter reached out as she came near. “Good heavens, where are you marching off to in such a hurry?” He smiled, his old familiar oh-so-charming smile. He was sure of himself and his appeal. For an instant, she was tempted to leave him standing there enjoying his charm all by himself. Instead, she paused then asked flatly, “Aren’t you a little confused, Peter?”
“Confused?”
She tilted her head back at the dance floor. “That’s your wife. Over there.”
He shrugged. “I know. But after all, Serena, we don’t have to be provincial, do we?”
So that was his theme. While Julie dallied with Jed, he would find his amusement with her. That might be his plan, but she wasn’t having any.
“No,” she said quietly, “we certainly don’t have to be provincial.”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “So we can have this dance and . . .”
Serena stepped away. “Actually, no, Peter. You see, I’ve promised this dance to Will,” and she turned and held out her hand to Will, who had been leaning disconsolately against the mantel.
The happiness in Will’s face hurt Serena as much as anything that had happened. Before the evening was over, she danced with all of the men, except Jed. He remained close to Julie, laughing at her softly murmured jokes, bending near not to miss a word. Serena drank a little too much and knew it. It wasn’t until she was in her own room, leaning back against the closed door, that she murmured, “Damn, oh damn,” and let the tears slip down unheeded.
The next morning, her head throbbed, but she was up early. Firmly, she dressed, forced down a quick and solitary breakfast, and walked through the silent first floor to Uncle Dan’s office.
Now it was her office.
There was much to do. She worked furiously, sorting the letters that had come in during the past week. Some she replied to immediately. Some she put in a reply-when-possible stack. She lifted down last year’s ledger. It would help to know what Uncle Dan had been doing this time last year. It would give her ideas of what she should be checking up on now. Of course she would talk to Joe Walkingstick. Joe. Not Jed.
But it was Jed who knocked on the office door about nine. He poked his head inside. “Mind if I come in?” His tone was relaxed and casual.
She smiled impersonally. “Of course not. I need to talk to you, anyway. Have you and Joe made plans to round up the new calves?”
Jed leaned against the side of the desk.
She smelled the freshness of his flannel shirt and the faint citrus scent of aftershave lotion. She stared determinedly down at the ledger.
<
br /> “Yeah,” he said easily. “Joe and I thought we’d take a half-dozen hands up to the Sangre meadow Thursday. Is it okay if I draw for provisions?”
“Yes. I think it’s a good time.”
“Okay. Also, I wanted to clear something with you. I talked to Julie last week and she gave me the go-ahead to attend the auction at Roswell. Joe and I went and bought a Hereford bull. We can call and cancel if you disapprove.”
“Of course not,” she said quickly. “A deal is a deal. Besides, you and Joe know what you are doing. Tell me about the bull.”
“He’s a king all right. No doubt about it.” Jed pulled an auction catalogue out of his pocket and showed her the squib on Big Harry. “He’ll be so good at stud we’ll draw service from ranches all over the state.”
“That sounds great.”
He was getting ready to go when she asked him the question she had carried with her the last few days.
“Jed, the day I left, you told me it was a good thing I was going.”
He looked down at her, his face suddenly impassive, the easy camaraderie gone. Perhaps she should have backed off then. But she could be stubborn.
“Jed,” she continued doggedly, “you warned me not to come back. Why did you say that?”
For a dreadful moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer her at all. Finally, gruffly, he said, “Forget it, Serena.”
“No.”
She said it simply, but with a grave finality.
“Serena . . .” He grimaced. “Just be careful. That’s all.” He turned and was gone before she could say another word.
Be careful.
That was a warning, too.
She sat for a long time, looking down at figures she didn’t see, her mind whirling with thoughts and guesses and conjectures.
Something was wrong at Castle Rock. Jed’s brusque warning was only another in a series of odd incidents—Will’s drinking, Julie’s attempt to get rid of her, the strange presence of the Minters. Nothing by itself was too alarming. Taken all together they didn’t make up a picture or a pattern, but something had disturbed the rhythm of Castle Rock.
With Uncle Dan gone, Castle Rock and the people on it, especially Danny, were her responsibility. It was up to her to find out what was wrong and make it right.
