He barely made out her retort. Leaning his forehead against the smooth wood, he placed his mouth against a thin crack. “You don’t mean that!”
“Yes, I do. In fact, if you don’t leave I’m going to phone the sheriff and say you’re harassing me.”
“Don’t do that.” Sighing, Alan backed off the porch. All he needed to complicate matters more than they already were would be for Laurel to have him thrown in jail. “Laurel, please, I know we can resolve this without involving lawyers if you’d just open the damn door.”
“You involved a lawyer, Alan. Go…away!”
She had him there. Patton was his attorney. “Okay, I’m leaving. But I’m not giving up. You’ll have to see me Monday when I bring Louemma to class.”
MONDAY AT NOON, Laurel phoned and asked to speak with Louemma. Birdie said she’d hold the phone for the girl.
“Hi, honey. I’m in Lexington and I won’t be back in time for our lesson. I have to cancel. I’m really sorry.”
“Did Dog go to Lexington with you?”
Laurel laughed. “He’s guarding the house. Would you like me to bring over your loom and project tomorrow so you can work at home?”
“No, I don’t want Nana to see the scarf. It’s her Christmas present.”
“Oh, right. Listen, I have to go. We’ll work something out, okay?”
“Okay. Are you still mad at Daddy?”
Laurel mumbled something noncommittal and signed off.
Birdie relayed the conversation to Alan when he dashed in from the distillery to collect Louemma.
“Ms. Laurel sounded really sorry,” she said. “Hardy Duff needs to have his ears boxed for causing this stupid tug-of-war over water.”
“It’s become more than a tug-of-war, Birdie. This afternoon, Windridge got served a subpoena and we’ll have to appear in court. Where’s Vestal? The summons lists Hardy and me by name, then lumps the other principals together. Dale wants to try and get the case thrown out based on the fact that Vestal and I together own a majority of the voting stock. Hardy’s a minority owner.”
“Huh, if you ask me, and nobody did, you and your grandmother own a majority of a big headache. Speaking of which, she’s lying down now trying to get rid of one. Headache, that is.”
“Oh, well, don’t disturb her. If Laurel wasn’t so stubborn, if she’d meet me halfway, we could save everyone time, money and headache remedies.”
Louemma, who’d heard Alan’s voice, entered the kitchen in search of him. “Daddy, I forgot to ask Laurel if I can have my lesson tomorrow. Will you ask her?”
“Well, uh…she’s not exactly talking to me, honeybee.”
“Is that because you and Mr. Patton made her mad the other day?”
“Correction. Mr. Patton’s the culprit. Laurel’s choosing to include me.”
Louemma’s eyes filled with tears. “Why’s she ’cluding me? I don’t even know why everyone’s mad.”
Because it suddenly felt to Alan as if Laurel had put his daughter in the middle, as Emily so often had, he was overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. “Shoot, honey, let’s go to town and see if a couple of big chocolate milkshakes will help us forget Laurel.”
“I don’t want to forget her. Or Dog.” Huge tears poured down her cheeks. She tried to turn and run down the hall. Alan and Birdie were left to watch the awkward sight. Most people relied on upper body strength as well as legs when they ran. Louemma’s arms swung limply at her sides. With a sinking heart, Alan thought the flaccidness more pronounced than at any time since her breakthrough.
Vestal emerged from her room. “Mercy, what’s all the noise? Is my anniversary clock losing time? I set it to chime so I’d get up to dress for the library association meeting. I thought you and Louemma would be off to her lesson by now.”
“Laurel canceled, and Louemma blames me. I just told Birdie that Hardy and I were subpoenaed an hour ago. You weren’t specifically named in the suit Avery Heeter filed on Laurel’s behalf. Dale wants to petition the court to drop the case because they left you off the list. I can’t even believe it’s reached this point. If Laurel would let me explain, I think we could come to an amicable agreement.”
“Sometimes differences compound so fast they’re irreparable.”
Alan guessed from Vestal’s tone that she must be thinking of her falling-out with Hazel. “This thing became a mess through no fault of mine. If Hardy had let me take care of it, we might already have Mountain Builders clearing a path for our canal. I was this close to convincing Laurel.” He held his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart.
Vestal rummaged in the hall closet and came out with a plaid chenille shawl that looked suspiciously like Laurel’s work. “Don’t frown at me like that, Alan. I know the calendar says it’s summer. But the fog’s rolling in every night. Marv Fulton cautioned me about taking a chill, and. I’ve noticed a damp mist some mornings. I wonder if our rains will come earlier than normal.”
“I—it’s—I’ve never seen you wear that shawl before. Laurel does similar things.”
“She wove this one. Is there any reason I shouldn’t support her work?”
“None whatsoever. Her weaving work is all the more reason we shouldn’t kick her out of the cottage.”
Birdie announced that she thought Vestal’s ride had pulled in. To Alan, the housekeeper said, “This business with the shawl? It’s more a matter of Miss Vestal wanting to keep up with the Joneses. The day she asked me to take her shopping for it, she admitted she didn’t like being the only member of the garden club not to have one. Isn’t that what you said?”
Vestal sighed impatiently.
“I said it would look bad if people in town heard about this hullabaloo over the creek. They’d say I’m shunning Laurel’s work, and I’m not. Our battle in the courts should’ve been with Hazel, not her granddaughter. She’s innocent.”
“Agreed,” Alan declared. So, if we all think alike, why are we going to court?”
“I don’t know, dear. Can’t Dale Patton fix things?”
“Dale says since Heeter filed first, we have no choice but to show up on the appointed day. It’s like this whole damn debacle has a momentum of its own.”
A horn honked, and Vestal reached for the doorknob. “I mustn’t keep Mary Lynch waiting. Think about this, Alan. If you do go to court, Laurel will have to listen to your side, won’t she?”
Crossing to her, Alan leaned over and kissed her rose-scented cheek. “You’re brilliant. Now, if only I can win Louemma around so easily. I figure a kid’s seriously mad if she refuses to be bought off with chocolate milkshakes.”
After Vestal left, Birdie marched back into the kitchen, “Louemma don’t need chocolate,” she flung at him. “What that girl needs is folks in her life who ain’t all the time fightin’ and carryin’ on.”
Her words stung. Alan wasn’t used to Birdie being quite so outspoken. He didn’t want to fight with Laurel. Granted, they’d started off badly, but for more than three months they’d gotten along idyllically. If he had his way, they would again. He already missed her. Missed everything they’d shared. Not just the sex, though that was fantastic. There had to be a way to regain what they’d lost.
Alan tried reaching Laurel many times as July gave way to August’s humid thunderstorms, but the next time he saw her was in court ten days after their breakup. Alan and Vestal had ridden to the courthouse together. As his grandmother wasn’t listed by name in the suit, she chose to sit in the back.
He left her and made his way forward to where Laurel stood talking with a short, bulky man who had receding hair and a handlebar mustache. Alan’s first reaction was that he yearned to see her far more than he’d dared acknowledge, even to himself.
Always slender, she seemed thinner. Probably lost weight worrying over this, he thought, rubbing at a sudden pain in his chest.
Laurel glanced up, straight at him, and her expression didn’t change. The fact that she didn’t react in any way to his smile didn’t bode well for what Alan planned
as his last-ditch effort to prove his good faith. He shot the cuffs of his snowy dress shirt and checked to make sure he’d shaved. He nervously straightened the knot in his tie. He’d had a hell of a time tying it earlier.
“It’s now or never,” he muttered under his breath.
He bypassed the table where Hardy Duff sat with Dale Patton, the company lawyer; they clearly expected Alan to sit with their team. Alan strode up to Laurel instead.
“You haven’t returned any of my calls,” he said, flatly ignoring the man standing beside her. “Could I have just one minute? This court fight isn’t what I want. I’m sure it’s not what you want, either.”
He’d never know whether or not his plea would have breached her resistance. Just then, a court clerk stood and ordered everyone to find a seat. “Prepare to rise for the entry of Judge Wesley Parnell,” the woman said.
“That means you, young man,” Laurel’s lawyer told Alan. Heeter effectively brushed him aside. He and his client sat, leaving Alan no choice but to join his group—or risk a contempt charge.
Dale, normally easygoing, gripped Alan’s arm and yanked him down so he could whisper in his ear. “What are you trying to do to our case? We’ve got a small edge in drawing Parnell. But any judge can rule the other way if he sees the opposition cavorting with the plaintiff.”
“We weren’t cavorting. And maybe if I’d had an opportunity for a few words with the plaintiff, we’d be able to call this travesty off. How in hell did we end up here in front of Parnell? At the board meeting, I specifically told you and Hardy to fix things with Laurel.”
“I tried, Alan. I phoned. Then I wrote, asking her to sit down with Hardy, me and you. Sent it by courier, so I know she got it. We didn’t request this adjudication hearing, Alan. We’re here at her behest.”
The judge entered, forcing them to stand. He was a big man with a ruddy complexion. Alan knew Wes to be an avid outdoorsman. Having never seen him wearing anything but chinos, boots and a lumberjack plaid shirt, he had difficulty adjusting to the sight of him in a flowing black robe. There was no denying, however, that Wes’s taking the bench precluded further conversation.
Judge Parnell acknowledged Dale Patton with a thin smile and a brief inclination of his head. The look he bestowed on Laurel’s lawyer could only be described as chilly. Alan immediately found himself feeling sorry for the out-of-towner.
Something Alan probably should have told Laurel was that men like Dale and Wes Parnell hadn’t taken kindly to the upstart from Lexington pulling a fast one when he represented Hazel Bell.
It’d been no accident that Heeter had avoided filing the squatter’s rights papers with the Ridge City court and had instead gone directly to the county seat. The recording and the deed were finalized before Vestal ever received a copy of the claim. At the time, she’d been grieving over her husband’s death; as well, the prospect of helping Carolee run the business had overwhelmed his grandmother. It really wasn’t until Hardy had begun to explore expanding their current facility that any of them worried about the ramifications of Hazel’s action.
Parnell perched half glasses on his bulbous red nose. Wesley wasn’t a pretty man in any sense of the word. Alan thought the attire and being perched above everyone in the room made him look like a giant troll.
Alan glanced over at Laurel and discovered her gnawing on her upper lip. She’d pulled her hair back in a tight little knot, reminiscent of the first day he’d seen her. Tendrils still escaped, and in the stuffy courtroom, two or three strands stuck to her pale neck. Alan remembered toying with those curls after they’d made love. Blood surged to his groin. He was forced to shift in his seat and turn aside.
The judge had finished perusing the items in the folder handed to him. “It’s plain this case is a waste of the court’s time, and mine. I don’t understand why Vestal left ownership of the forty acres in doubt as long as she did.” He folded his hands atop the file and glared at Laurel over his narrow glasses.
“Your honor.” Avery Heeter hauled himself to his feet. “My client’s grandmother and grandfather resided on that property far longer than required by Kentucky law to make the claim. They did more than the required improvements. Mrs. Bell meticulously paid taxes, as has my client since her inheritance. We contend all of that gives her the legal right to the land in question.”
“Last time I checked, I made the decisions in this court, Avery. On the basis of the original land grant—which not even a Lexington lawyer can refute—it seems obvious to me that the acreage still belongs to the lawful descendants of one Luther Ridge. That’s Vestal and Alan. Unless you can prove there was ever a time a Ridge sold off any part of the parcel outlined in the grant, I’m ruling in their favor. Your client has thirty days to vacate the premises or is subject to forceful eviction.” Wesley slammed down his gavel.
Heeter started to sputter in protest. It was Laurel who jumped up. “I see what’s happened here. You, sir, are biased in favor of Alan Ridge. Not because his claim to the land is more lawful, but because you obviously like sampling Windridge’s wares.”
Parnell slammed his gavel five times. His red face and prominent nose grew even redder. “I find you in contempt of court, young woman, and fine you one hundred dollars. Open your mouth again and your fine jumps in increments of a thousand dollars.” Rising behind the podium like an apparition, Wes Parnell began shuffling together the papers that had scattered when he’d whacked his gavel.
“Judge, wait a minute.” Everyone gaped as Alan sprang from his chair. The court stenographer’s fingers flew across her keys. Dale yanked on Alan’s suit coat.
“Alan, sit,” he hissed.
The judge adjusted his glasses and scowled at Alan’s intrusion. However, he had to be aware that this was an election year and he was looking at a patron he knew held a powerful position in their community. “There’s more you want?” Wes asked.
“Less. I want less,” Alan stated loudly and firmly, turning to locate his grandmother. “We only want the property that gives us access to the headwaters of the spring. In all, we calculated it’s roughly seventeen acres, plus an easement allowing our workmen a right of way up the hill. Call it twenty acres for a good round number.”
“This is highly irregular.” Judge Parnell sank heavily back into his chair. “I ruled on forty acres, but now you say you only want twenty? What about the other twenty acres in the original parcel?”
“I want the land with the two cottages and outbuildings constructed by Ted Bell either left as is under Hazel’s grant, or deeded directly to Laurel Ashline.” Alan turned with a smile meant to include Laurel. But if he expected to see her face wreathed in joy, he was disappointed. She stared at him with burning eyes.
Parnell extracted a pen from underneath his robe. He scribbled on the papers in front of him with a theatrical flourish. “Am I to assume this request of Alan’s meets the approval of all remaining board members?”
Hardy Duff wore a thunderous expression. The bank president clearly didn’t follow what was going on. Finally, Dale Patton half rose and said, “Aye.”
“My grandmother is here if you’d like to poll her. But I think our legal counsel will tell you the remaining Ridge family still controls decisions of this nature. Only a few days ago, the board had this discussion and it was duly noted that she and I vote in a block.”
“That’s true,” Dale said, rising again. “If Vestal agrees with this request of Alan’s and if it pleases the court, then it’s a done deal.”
“Nothing about this case pleases the court,” the judge said stiffly. “Vestal, what say you on the matter?”
Those few gathered in the room all followed Parnell’s gaze. “I say those forty acres have been in limbo for long enough. Just let it be done so Hazel, Ted and Jason can rest in peace.”
“So be it.” Parnell signed his name, then smacked his gavel a final time before requesting that his secretary record, copy and distribute his ruling.
Alan barely listened as Hardy ran
ted on about how he had rocks where his brains belonged. All Alan cared about right now was patching things up with Laurel. But he saw that she and Heeter were making their way to a side door. He left Hardy talking to thin air and cut Laurel off a heartbeat before she cleared the door. “Hey, what’s your hurry?” Alan caught her by the elbow. She was pale and didn’t look happy.
“I can’t talk to you now, Alan. I need time to cool down.”
“Why are you still mad? I just solved our problems. Gave you a home and twenty acres of prime Kaintucky property,” he drawled.
Pain lay buried deep in Laurel’s eyes. “Well, thank you. I grew up depending on charity. I hated every minute of it.”
“But…charity implies there are strings attached. There are no strings in what we did for you, Laurel.”
“No strings? Then don’t come ’round expecting to take up our relationship where we left off. Excuse me, please, I’m keeping Avery waiting.”
“Wait! Don’t you think this is what Hazel wanted? Why she went to the trouble of filing? She wanted you to have the home Lucy never did. We’ll never know why she grabbed the land, but that’s the only reason that makes sense.”
Laurel kept on walking, her head held high. She probably hadn’t heard half of what he said.
Chapter Thirteen
AVERY HEETER HUSTLED to keep up with his client’s long strides. “The judge was biased in their favor, Laurel. I’ll appeal. We deserve a fair hearing. I’ll need to go back to the office and review your options.”
Having reached her pickup, she stopped digging in her purse for her keys to wait for her shorter-legged ally. “I thought we…he could’ve had it all, couldn’t he, Avery?”
“Yes,” the lawyer said angrily. “I’ll need to research. I’m sure there are millions of loopholes in those old land grants. Meanwhile, you haven’t been deprived of a place to live, thanks to Alan Ridge’s magnanimous posturing.”
“Oh, but Alan’s not like that. I know him. It’s the way they went about it, Avery. I feel—I don’t know, like maybe I ought to leave this town, anyway.”
Daddy's Little Matchmaker Page 22
