I’ve included copies of your sons’ birth certificates, and their college graduation pictures, taken less than a decade ago.
Thank you for them. Derek, Keith, and James have been the light and the true loves of my life.
Judith Merrick Robbins
Samantha blinked and then accepted the handkerchief being held out to her. She nodded her thanks to Preston, and then mopped up her tears.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.”
“You don’t ever need to apologize for feeling, love,” Charlie said.
“Absolutely not,” Taylor said.
“Thank you. My tears won’t help matters, however.” Samantha set down the letter. Reaching inside the envelope, she pulled out the remaining documents. The three pictures showed young men in caps and gowns, in their official college graduation portraits.
“Even being light haired, your half brothers look like you.” Each photo had a name written on the back. As she looked at each one, she passed them to the men.
“They look a lot like pictures I’ve seen of Grandpa Jeremy when he was younger,” Taylor said. “And yes, they look like us, too.”
“They’re Kendalls, all right,” Preston said.
It pleased Samantha more than she could say that the expression on these Kendalls’ faces was not only one of acceptance, but fondness.
“I hope they contact the dads,” Charlie said.
“I hope they come here,” Taylor said.
“They are Kendalls.” While the men had been looking at the photos, Samantha had taken out the copies of their birth certificates. “Each of them has Kendall as his middle name.”
“They’re older than we are by about three years,” Preston said, “and older than Northrop by one. We do have to remember that they’ve recently lost their mother.” He set the photos back in the envelope.
“I wish Judith had given us more information—like how her sons feel about their stepfather.” Taylor frowned. “We have to do what we can to discredit this ridiculous suit the man filed, but I really don’t want to upset our brothers more than they already have been.”
“A fresh perspective,” Samantha said, recalling Chelsea’s words. She picked up the letter, and scanned it until she got to the section she wanted. “Judith says that Robbins should never have been a father. I’d say that means there likely was no love lost between him and his stepsons.”
“They might even be able to help us,” Charlie said. “If they can attest that their stepfather wasn’t as enamored of his wife as he claims he was in his suit.”
Samantha put her attention back on the documents the men’s fathers had been served. “He claims alienation of affection, and marital interference. However, since Judith admits to having had no contact with your dads since 1941, that’s a claim that will be pretty damn hard for him to prove.” Samantha blushed slightly. “Even if the woman did pine for them—and I’m not reading that here—the onus for disproving the allegations is not on your dads. How does Robbins hope to win his case?”
“As far as I can tell on first read, this whole damn business is going to be hard, if not impossible, for that bastard and his lawyer to prove.” Preston set the documents down, sat back, and crossed his legs.
She could see he was deep in thought. In that moment he resembled his father, Nicholas.
She put her thoughts back on the matter at hand. “Exactly! Which begs the question, why bother? It could just be a matter for your family to appoint a lawyer, secure a hearing, and get this suit tossed out of court.” Samantha set the papers down. “I suggest we make notes—after supper. Tomorrow, we’ll see what my dad has to say. But that is likely the way this ‘case’ is going to break.”
Preston looked at his watch. “Supper is likely almost ready. Mother likes us to be on time.” He looked at his brothers, and then met her gaze. They all three grinned and Samantha’s heart began to melt.
She only had six more days before her car would be ready and she’d head south to Austin, and the beginning of the rest of her life.
For the first time since she’d made her life plan several years before, Samantha Kincaid not only didn’t feel excited about the course that lay ahead of her, a tiny sense of dread knotted up deep inside where she imagined her heart to be.
* * * *
Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes off Samantha.
Making love to her had been better than anything he’d ever experienced, ever. All he wanted was more. He lowered his gaze, and had to work at paying attention to his mother’s wonderful roasted chicken. He loved his family with all his heart but right at that moment he wished that he and his brothers could be alone with Samantha.
“Samantha, what did you think of the cottage?”
His mother’s question snapped his head up. Miranda Barnes Kendall looked as guileless as a newborn babe, but he knew his mother. She was up to something.
Of course she’d been up to something that morning when his father Nick had suggested they all go to the cottage and inspect the renovations in the first place, and she’d been in enthusiastic agreement.
“I thought the house was just lovely.” Samantha’s face had turned just the slightest bit pink. Charlie had to bite the inside of his cheek. He’d bet she was thinking about what they’d done together at that house.
“That kitchen, especially, was very appealing,” Samantha said. “I especially like the concept of a butcher’s block in the center. The colors were very warm, too. The entire place felt homey.”
“Splendid! And you noticed the butchers block! Next year we’re going to remodel the kitchen here, and I’m having one installed for myself.” His mother grinned. “It’ll be a mess until it’s done, but definitely worth it.”
“We’ll put in another outdoor grill, sweetheart, and handle most of the cooking until the kitchen renovation is complete.”
“Oh, Nicky, that would be wonderful!”
Charlie knew his father, Nick, was sincere in his eagerness. There was nothing his fathers enjoyed more than making his mother happy.
“We both know how frustrating it would be for you to try and organize meals around the construction.” Martin nodded his head. “You take such good care of us all, all the time, it’s the least we can do.”
Miranda looked at Samantha. “Do you see how lucky I am?”
“I do, indeed,” she said.
“My father, Adam, used to stress to all of us boys, growing up, how important it was to please your wife,” Jeremy Kendall said. “He said that we men have a habit of not seeing the small, everyday sacrifices that women make for us—often times without even thinking about it.”
“I remember the time Mother heard him telling us that,” Dalton said. “I’ll never forget that sweet smile she got just at that moment.” He looked at Samantha. “Mother was a career woman.” He laughed. “She began to call herself that when we were teens. I guess it was a new catchphrase at the time. She was a private investigator, and she and our father, Warren, had an office they shared in Waco, when they first got together. Adam was a Texas Ranger, and in charge of the Waco Headquarters in his day. They’d stay in town during the week and then come back here on the weekends.”
“I guess that explains why I haven’t received any lectures on a woman’s place being in the home.” Samantha grinned when she said that.
Grandmother Chelsea laughed. “Nor will you, not here in Lusty, at any rate. Of course, I can’t guarantee you wouldn’t run into that attitude here in Texas beyond our little sanctuary.”
Supper was nearly done. His father, Martin, got up to bring the coffeepot to the table. They didn’t have dessert every night, but sometimes Grandmother liked to bake, and everyone was appreciative of her efforts when she did.
And sometimes it was Taylor who would spend an afternoon in the kitchen, creating wonderful desserts. Great-grandfather Warren had loved to make pancakes, and always stressed that a man should know how to do some basic things for himself, and his family.
Charlie would much rather tinker with an engine, or lose himself in stories of ancient civilizations than bake. But he’d get Taylor to show him a few things, so he could help in the kitchen, too.
Just that simply he could envision making Sunday morning breakfast with Samantha and Taylor. He slid a glance toward Preston.
His older brother likely would never crack an egg. But he’d make it seem as if he was directing the three of them, nonetheless.
Charlie didn’t mind that at all. It was all relative—man or woman, people needed to follow their talents and their interests. It was serendipitous that he and his womb mates were intrigued by the law and had followed their fathers and one grandfather into the discipline.
It more than suited them that Samantha was headed in that direction, too. Her earlier comment had been said with humor, but he’d bet she’d been a bit worried that his fathers and grandfathers would have said something disparaging of her desire for a career.
With his brothers he’d gone to college away from home and knew full well their attitudes weren’t necessarily reflected in society at large.
Dad poured out the coffee, and Grandfather Dalton brought the two pecan pies Grandmother had made to the table.
“Were you able to reach your father, Samantha?” Nick asked.
“I was, yes.”
Charlie sat back and watched her interact with his dads as she filled them in on the conversation. Both men asked questions, and then Martin asked her what she thought about their case.
He could see she’d been giving the matter a great deal of thought. “There’s been a trend lately in New York, one that my father noticed a couple of years ago when he was reviewing civil suits for a paper he was writing. He called them ‘nuisance’ suits.”
Dalton sat back and crossed his left leg over his right. He put his fingers together, resting his index fingers against his lips. It was his “thinking” pose.
“Nuisance suits. Let me guess. People would sue other people over, for want of a better way of putting it, ‘stupid things.’ And those being sued were likely people of means.”
“Yes, sir.” Samantha nodded.
“I bet I know what would happen,” Jeremy said. “People of means are also busy people, and to put an end to litigation that would take time and money, they would settle with whomever was suing them—likely for a much smaller amount than stated in court documents.”
“Yes, sir, that is exactly what happens. And these so-called plaintiffs would walk away a few thousand dollars richer—for nothing.”
“And if these cases were brought by the same person in different districts, no one would figure out what was going on—or that they had a lucrative little business going.”
“Father said what was needed on behalf of these defendants was a stiff spine and a thirst for justice. I have to agree with him. To me, this is a very dangerous practice. I believe in the system, but when it’s being abused, then that takes away from those who really need it to work for them.”
“You think this is a nuisance suit, don’t you?”
“I’ll wait to hear from my dad. But there are several little red flags here—at least I think they’re red flags. I don’t see how Mr. Robbins can possibly claim either alienation of affection or marital interference. There’s simply no evidence.”
“That’s what Nicky and I thought, too,” Martin said. “It’s good to have an outside opinion, though, confirming ours. I think we should let the case go forward in New York court and let Mr. Robbins discover that the system does indeed work when his case is tossed out for lack of merit.”
“I still say the best solution is for me to go there and shoot the bast…ah, gentleman. Robbins reminds me of Isaiah Kendall.”
Charlie wasn’t alone in hiding his smiles from the women in his family. In recent years, Grandfather Jeremy had become somewhat freer with cuss words than he’d ever been. The fact that he’d curbed the tendency was an indication, at least to Charlie, that the man was being especially polite around Samantha.
He likely doesn’t want to offend her, and risk sending her off.
Samantha tilted her head as she looked at Grandfather Jeremy. “Who is Isaiah Kendall, if I may ask?”
“I’d like to say no relative of mine, but he was actually one of my father, Adam’s, brothers,” Dalton said.
“We didn’t even know Dad had any brothers, until the day they all three of them showed up here. I was, what, five or six at the time,” Jeremy said.
“They’d come and mooch for a week or two and then leave. But one day, Isaiah came with a woman and five children in tow.” Dalton shook his head. “It was just after we got married. The autumn of 1910.”
“Left them here, he did. The kids and the woman, and he never came back. Turned out the woman was sick. She died. Damndest thing. There were these kids, suddenly orphaned—Isaiah sure as hell hadn’t been any kind of a father to them at all. That’s why this Robbins character puts me in mind of him,” Jeremy said. “From what our sons told us of Judith’s letter, he wasn’t much of a father to her boys, either.”
“What happened to them? Those five boys?” Samantha sat forward and gave her full attention to his grandfathers.
“They stayed until they came of age. The youngest two of them, my mother educated. She taught the older ones to read, too. But the older ones also worked, helping us with the farm and they worked hard, I have to say. Then as they came of age, they left—well the oldest one, Thomas, he stayed until the youngest, Peter, was ready to move on. They had a good work ethic but inherited their father’s wanderlust.”
“Our mothers called them the nomadic Kendalls,” Chelsea said, “because they’d show up again every few years for a visit. They considered Lusty their home, though they never gave any sign they wanted to settle down here.”
“I guess it was a different world then,” Samantha said.
“It was, indeed.” Chelsea sighed. “There was no such thing as welfare, or child protective services. But then, the children had been abandoned here, and although there wasn’t a Kendall, Jessop, or Benedict who approved of Isaiah and the way he refused to be a man, those children were kin, and the responsibility for them belonged to us all. We did what we could. They had food, and clothing, and shelter. The truth is, they had stability here, for the first time in their lives. Our fathers—mine and my husbands—became good, solid male role models for them. That’s why they’d come back to visit. Thomas told me, the last time I saw him, that they all considered Lusty to be their family home, because here was the very first place where they felt like a family.”
“Some of their sons and grandsons come by from time to time. There’re really quite a lot of them now. Madeline is one for keeping track, and she could tell you how many there are.”
“Kate’s picked up that job,” Miranda said. “Lately, she’s been organizing all of the historical documents—letters, pictures…artifacts.”
His mother grinned. Charlie wondered how many pieces of gold his Aunt Kate had set aside.
“We really ought to start that museum we always talk about,” Grandmother said.
“Men, let’s get this table cleared, shall we?” Martin got to his feet.
“Once we get this taken care of, then we can all get busy, getting you moved.” Nick smiled as he said that, and his mother—and grandmother, looked down, apparently suddenly fascinated with their empty plates.
Charlie sat forward and shot a glance at his brothers. Their father’s announcement had caught them unawares, too.
“What?” Preston looked as if he wanted to jump to his feet. “Get us moved?”
“You were planning to make the transition to the cottage in September,” Martin said. “We discussed the matter while the four of you were in the office earlier, working on the case. We think it’s best if you make that move now. Don’t you?”
Chapter 11
“What are they like, sweetheart? Your hosts?”
Samantha sat in the office in
the New House, talking on the phone with her mother. The door was closed, but that didn’t prevent her from hearing the sounds of many feet traipsing back and forth from upstairs to the waiting vehicles as the relatives all pitched in to move Preston, Taylor, and Charles into the cottage.
She had been given the impression that they were moving her there, too. She suspected the women—Chelsea and Miranda—were behind this, doing a bit of matchmaking.
She couldn’t really resent that at all, although she did hope they didn’t get their hopes up.
Samantha returned her attention to the conversation with her mother. “The Kendalls are very friendly people. I like them all a lot. They’re very family oriented. This is a home with parents and grandparents, as well as the triplets.”
“Your father made some inquiries when you called us yesterday and told us you were their guests. The family has an excellent reputation—they’re quite well known in society.” Her mother sighed. “Hell’s bells, I sounded just like my mother-in-law just then.”
Samantha laughed. “That’s all right, Mom. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Grandma Kincaid lately.”
“Let’s just leave talk of your grandmother aside for now, shall we?” Her mother never said anything disparaging about the elderly Grand Dame of the Kincaid family. But Samantha knew full well her grandmother could be difficult. She had eyes and ears and had been witnessing the woman’s machinations for years. She loved her grandmother, but the woman was definitely a pill.
“I also wanted to tell you that I do recall hearing of the family, and their small town—before I met your father and he swept me away to Connecticut.” Doreen Kincaid had lowered her voice.
The change was so subtle, if Samantha hadn’t known her mother as well as she did, she wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
But she did, so she said, “And what do you recall hearing, Mom?”
“That they’re very successful in just about every venue they pursue, well liked, respected…and they, um, march to the beat of a different drummer, as it were.”
Their Lusty Little Valentine [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 11
