by Radclyffe
Clay Sutter was no memory. She was a living presence stamped on her every cell.
“Great,” Tess muttered. “Just great.”
She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and went downstairs to finish making the tea. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she made a call. If she knew Leslie, she’d be up by now.
“Hello?” Leslie said.
“Les, it’s Tess. Sorry to bother you so early, but I need to talk to you about the situation with NorthAm.”
“That’s all right, I was going to call you too. I’ve been going over the papers and I’ve come across a few things that seem odd.” Leslie murmured something Tess couldn’t hear, probably to Dev, then came back clearly. “Tell me why you called first.”
“Clay tells me that her father’s planning to send his legal team up to close the remaining contracts. I wanted you to know right away.”
“Did Clay say when?”
“Soon.”
“I wish I had better news,” Leslie said, “but I don’t think you’re going to have much wiggle room in these negotiations, Tess. Ray signed some fairly binding agreements. Even though you are now his heir, these kinds of things are difficult to reverse. We can certainly try, and I’m willing to do it, but you need to know going in it could be pricey, and there’s no guarantee.”
Tess squeezed the bridge of her nose. “That’s my quandary. I’m not even sure how I feel about the drilling. NorthAm is still surveying and testing and we’re supposed to get more information soon. Either way, though, I’d like to have the choice once all the information is available.”
“I totally understand and I agree with you. We’ll do the best we can. Ray never talked to you about this?”
“Ray didn’t talk to me about a lot of things,” Tess said.
“What’s going on?”
Tess gave her the bare bones of the story Clay had told her that morning, and as she did, she saw the two of them again, young, innocent, untested, and caught in a moment out of time that was destined to vanish. “I can’t believe Ray did that—or I guess I don’t want to believe he did that, but Ray was always the kind of person who felt the end justified the means. I guess he did that time too.”
“I didn’t know him,” Leslie said, “and I certainly have no desire to defend him. Using you that way was unconscionable, and to go on keeping you in the dark all this time just as bad. That must’ve been really hard for you, and Clay too.”
Tess closed her eyes. She hadn’t been the only one hurt. “Yes.”
“There’s something really strange about these contracts too,” Leslie said. “Some of the riders are relatively recent, but the original agreement isn’t. Ray signed these rights over years ago, well before NorthAm moved into your area in full force.”
“How long ago?”
“As far back as that summer, Tess.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Tess said.
“It might, if Ray didn’t think he was actually giving anything up but was forcing NorthAm into buying something they might never use.”
“I’m not following.”
“Considering what you just told me, this deal could be a well-camouflaged payoff,” Leslie said quietly. “If Ray demanded money from Clay’s father but could show that NorthAm had actually paid him for something, legally he’d be in the clear.”
Clay’s words came back in force, and Tess had the answer she was looking for. “You mean Ray might’ve blackmailed Clay’s father but made it all look like a transaction?”
“It’s possible. I’ve done a little research, and the price NorthAm paid Ray was triple what drilling rights in the Northeast were going for at the time.”
“How could this have happened,” Tess whispered.
“Money changes hands all the time under the guise of legitimate business deals for a lot of reasons. For greed, for power, for influence, and sometimes just to preserve the status quo. It’s ugly, and when you’re caught in the middle like you and Clay were, it’s immoral. Unfortunately, it’s not illegal.”
“Then why do I feel so dirty?”
“You shouldn’t. You were a victim. Both of you were.”
Tess straightened in her chair. “I know you’re right, but I refuse to be anyone’s victim. I might have been then, but I won’t be now.”
“I’m glad. And I’m here, no matter what you decide to do.”
“Thanks, Les. I appreciate it.”
Tess said good-bye and cradled her cup of cooling tea. She sipped it, trying to digest everything she’d heard that morning. Unraveling the past was an impossible task, and maybe an unnecessary one. What mattered now was what she was going to do. And the first step was dealing with the woman she’d slept with the night before, the woman in her life now, whose touch wouldn’t stop haunting her. She’d meant what she said to Leslie. She wouldn’t be a victim ever again, not even of her own pride.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Clay, barely able to see through the deluge, crept down the winding drive to Pete Townsend’s farm with the windshield wipers on as high as they would go. She slowed next to the rambling white clapboard farmhouse, trying to discern if anyone was up yet. From the front the place seemed quiet, but a window in the barn was alight. When she reached the first of half a dozen long, low cow barns, she pulled to a stop, jumped out, and ran through the downpour to the big sliding doors. Easing inside, she wiped the rain from her eyes and looked around. As she’d anticipated, the barn was modern and expensive-looking. Townsend, unlike Tess, raised beef cows, and most of his stockier, heavier-coated cattle were probably outside in the pastures. A few cows with young calves occupied several of the stalls. At the far end of the building, a man in a yellow slicker forked hay into a wheelbarrow. Walking down the center aisle, she called, “Mr. Townsend, it’s Clay Sutter.”
Townsend leaned on his pitchfork and watched her approach, his big florid face appraising. “Not much of a morning to be out.”
Clay pulled her wet shirt away from her shoulders. “I agree with you there.” She laughed. “And since I was in the neighborhood enjoying the day, I thought I’d come by. Sorry I’m early.”
“No problem. I can’t do much but kill time until this rain lets up, anyhow.” He hung the pitchfork on a hook. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping we could discuss the shale project—find some neutral ground.”
“Not sure there is any, but why don’t we walk up to the house. I could use some coffee. You?”
“That would be most welcome.”
She hunched under the short overhang outside while he took care of closing up the barn, and then they both sprinted across the wide drive to the back door of the farmhouse. Inside the large country kitchen with its wood-burning stove, massive wood trestle table that would easily seat twelve, and eight-burner commercial-grade cookstove, she stamped the water from her boots and nodded to a blonde frying eggs and bacon at the stove.
“I’m just going to get a dry shirt,” Pete said and disappeared.
The blonde, who looked to be a decade or more younger than Pete, smiled at Clay, her expression questioning.
“Sorry to barge in,” Clay said. “Pete didn’t tell me you were in the middle of breakfast. I’ll come back later—”
“No need to go unless you’re not hungry,” the woman said with a warm smile. She put down the spatula, wiped her hands on a brightly colored dish towel, and held out her hand. “I’m Mary Townsend. Pete’s wife.”
“Clay Sutter.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Ah. I missed the Grange meeting—one of the kids was sick. But I’ve heard about you.”
“I’m sure you have.” Clay grinned wryly. “I hope I can improve on the impression.”
Mary laughed. “Oh, no need to work at that. Mostly folks said you were respectful and seemed reasonable. High praise.”
“Well, then, I’m happy.”
Pete walked in and handed Clay a hand towel. “Thought you could use this.”
Clay towe
led her hair and wiped her hands. “Thanks. Listen, I really can come back—”
“I told Ms. Sutter I had plenty to spare,” Mary said.
“Always do.” Pete gestured Clay toward the table. “Sit down. If I don’t have help eating it, I’ll just do it all myself.”
“Well then, it smells great and I’m starving.” Clay had learned quickly that negotiating with people out in the field bore no resemblance to boardroom power games. And she’d learned that timing was critical—strong-arming locals never worked. So she’d take things at Pete’s pace and enjoy a home-cooked meal. And maybe for a few minutes she wouldn’t think of Tess. The hollow ache in her stomach wasn’t hunger—and no meal, no matter how fine, was going to fill it. Only Tess’s forgiveness and a little bit of welcome in her eyes would do that.
Pete sat down at the head of the big wooden table and Clay sat beside him. Mary set plates piled with bacon, ham, potatoes, and eggs in the center and slid into a chair across from Clay. A teenage girl who seemed too old to be Mary’s and a boy who looked to be about nine joined them. The girl smiled shyly at Clay and spent the rest of breakfast reading on an electronic device she propped against her plate. The boy rattled on about baseball tryouts at summer camp, and Clay mostly enjoyed the casual conversation that kept her mind off Tess for entire seconds at a time.
Any time there was a lull in the conversation, she was back in the bedroom with Tess beside her, closer than she’d ever dreamed of being to anyone. The intimacy they’d shared had been nothing like what she’d experienced as a teenager. Tess was every bit as special now as then, but the moments they’d shared the night before had been emblazoned with the reality of loss and the wonder of rediscovery. And then the rain had come and washed the slate bare again, leaving yet another chapter to be written. If only she knew where to begin.
“More coffee?” Mary Townsend asked.
Clay jolted, realizing Mary had asked her the same question a few seconds before. “Yes, thanks. Sorry.”
Mary smiled softly. “No need to apologize. You sure you don’t want more eggs?”
“No, I’ve already eaten well past my limit,” Clay said. “But it was so good I had to. Can I help you clean up?”
“Absolutely not.” Mary laughed. “The last thing I need is you two anywhere around, disrupting my system. Take your coffee and go somewhere else, both of you.”
Pete laughed, looking chagrined and a little bit pleased at being ordered around by his wife. He signaled for Clay to follow him, and she grabbed her coffee cup and followed through the beautifully restored farmhouse to what she took to be Pete’s office.
The room with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the drive was lined with bookcases on two walls and sported a modern wet bar in one corner and a big oak desk that commanded the center of the room. Pete gestured to a comfortable-looking captain’s chair in front of the desk while he sat behind it.
Clay sat, crossed her legs, and balanced her coffee cup on her knee. Townsend had closed the door behind them. Maybe his business arrangements were something he didn’t discuss with his wife in general, or maybe this discussion was something he particularly wanted to remain private. She regarded him steadily, waiting for him to open the conversation.
He sipped his coffee and studied her in turn. Finally, he said, “I imagine things would be a lot easier for you and your company if you had the support of the major landholders.”
“It’s always nice for the locals to be behind us. It’s important to NorthAm that we not disrupt the lives or the livelihood of the community.”
“I guess things have been a little rocky starting out.”
Clay said nothing. He was going somewhere and she figured she would just let him get there.
“When do you expect to be done with your assessments—up at Tess’s and elsewhere?”
“Shouldn’t be much longer. Some of the initial work was done by the advance team. We’re making progress at the Hansen parcel and almost finished at Tess’s. It’ll be another week before I can pinpoint the most likely areas for productive drilling.”
“Still looking at our three places?”
Clay smiled. “Well, I’m not actually looking at yours yet, since you haven’t given me permission.”
Townsend took a sip of coffee and set his cup down on a stone coaster. He leaned back in the big leather chair behind his big oak desk, looking just like every CEO she’d ever had the pleasure of jousting with.
“What if I told you I could bring the community around to supporting NorthAm. If I pushed to accept what you needed to do hereabouts, that would carry a lot of weight.” He smiled. “I might even be able to help out with those permits that seem to be hung up in red tape somewhere.”
Pete had influence, apparently. As one of the county’s largest landowners, that was no surprise. Clay nodded and smiled pleasantly. “Well, we certainly would welcome the support.”
He smiled thinly.
Clay waited. She wasn’t about to make the offer.
“Double the per-acre price for drilling rights,” Pete said.
“That assumes I even want to drill here.”
“You sign the preliminary agreement, you can bring your rigs in here and punch whatever holes you need to.” Pete shrugged. “I’m betting you’ll find what you want.”
“What about your concerns for your water and livestock?”
“That’s why I’ve got insurance.”
His offer to sell his rights at an inflated price wasn’t surprising. He wasn’t the first landowner to hold out for what he hoped would be a better deal than his neighbors had negotiated. She was authorized to pay what she wanted for rights, using her best judgment as to the potential value. Townsend’s land bordered half of Tess’s, and with his rights secured, she could probably avoid direct drilling on Tess’s farm. She named a figure a little bit under her top limit. He appeared to think it over, then countered higher as she’d expected he would.
They went back and forth a few times until Clay got tired of the wrangling. “That’s the best I can do. If I have to, I’ll drill elsewhere and set charges to open veins that will drain your gas without touching an inch of your land.”
“I think that price will work,” he finally said, a hard glint in his eyes.
Clay was glad she’d gotten breakfast first. She had a feeling she’d be going hungry otherwise. Townsend had held out and she didn’t blame him, but he was wrong to think she could be pushed into making a bad deal. She couldn’t be pushed if she was willing to walk away, and she always was. “I’ll have the attorneys draw up the paperwork. I’d like to move my equipment in as soon as we have a signed agreement. That’ll take a couple days.”
“Good enough,” Townsend said.
“In the meantime, I’ll speak to the town board and ask the Grange president to call another meeting. I should be able to lay out our plans then, and your vocal support will be appreciated.”
“You’ll have it,” Pete said.
“I don’t suppose you know anything about the break-in over at my construction camp last night?”
Townsend’s brows drew down. “Should I?”
“Well, it occurred to me that some of your acquaintances might have been a little eager to see us change our minds about setting up operations here.”
“If I’d gotten wind of anything like that, I would have put a stop to it. Even if I was completely opposed to you being here, I don’t support that kind of activity.”
“Fair enough.” Clay wasn’t sure she believed him, even though his end game had apparently been to sell his rights, just for more money than everyone else. He’d obviously stirred up resistance to make his eventual support more critical. It wasn’t a new game, and she’d seen plenty. Still, he might be telling the truth and the break-in was nothing more than some of the locals looking for an easy score. Clay stood and put her cup on his desk. “Thank your wife for the coffee and breakfast. It was excellent.”
Townsend stood. “I’ll tell h
er.”
“You should have the paperwork beginning of the week.”
He held out his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Sutter.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Clay shook his hand. Business was business, but she’d never trust Pete Townsend.
*
The rain hadn’t lessened as Clay left Townsend’s farm and headed back to Cambridge. She pulled in behind the bed-and-breakfast and took the elevator up to her floor. When the door opened, Ella was waiting in the hall.
“I saw you pull in. You’re not answering your phone,” Ella said.
Clay held up a hand. “I tried.” She tossed her phone to Ella. “Check the call record yourself.”
“Really. You think I’m going to do that?” Ella laughed shortly and handed the phone back. “I’ve been trying to get you ever since this storm broke. Roads are already washing out. I almost drove out to Tess’s to make sure you were all right.”
“What makes you think that’s where I was?”
“Because there’s nowhere else you would’ve been. Kelly already checked the trailer.”
“Come on, I want to get out of these wet clothes.” Clay motioned Ella into her room, stripped off her shirt and pants, and re-dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. “Since my whereabouts last night don’t have anything to do with business, I’d rather not go into it.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Ella leaned back against the closed door. “But you are my business, and if you’re going to insist on going rogue, I’m going to head back to New York. I can’t do my job like this.”
