by Fiona Lowe
“So I gather the bank’s not on your back?”
“Nope.”
“Good for you.” Tom smiled. “Still, diversification is the key to financial security. Must be a concern to you that all your income is dependent on milk prices.”
Luke thought about the gelling plan in his mind. “You have a point.”
Tom nodded and focused on the view. “Are you thinking of diversifying?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
Tom slipped one hand into his pocket and rocked back on his heels as if he and Luke chewed the fat all the time. “I know a surefire investment plan with guaranteed returns of twenty percent.”
The number slugged Luke in the chest. “That seems too good to be true.”
Tom’s eyes filled with a shared understanding. “That’s what I thought but I’ve been benefiting from the generous dividends for the last few months. Not that I’m sharing it around, mind you, but I want Erin to get the advantage from this too. Seeing as the two of you are keeping company, I’m prepared to extend the offer and share it with you and your family.”
Every cell in Luke’s body went on alert and it took everything he had to hide it. My father calls himself an entrepreneur. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions too early, given the guy had gone to the effort of finding his daughter after a few years apart. “Have you talked to Erin about this?”
“Not yet. Unlike you, she lacks the big picture business sense. She’s squirrelly with money rather than letting it work for her.” He gave Luke a conspiratorial smile. “I thought perhaps together we can make her see that this investment is her future. As her dad, all I want for her is to get her long-awaited studio and the returns would pay her lease. After all, you and I are on the same page, aren’t we? We just want to make her happy.”
Luke gripped the beer bottle hard as a cold rage took seat in his gut. Tom was a chameleon—the clothes, the interest in the farm, getting his hands dirty milking—all of it had been to warm Luke up for this. Using him to scam his daughter out of her savings.
You might be wrong. Go slowly. “How much are we talking, Tom?”
“To make it really worthwhile?”
“Yeah. Would a hundred thousand do it?”
Lights of excitement glittered in the depths of Tom’s eyes. “That will certainly get Erin her studio.”
Luke’s finger wanted to close around Tom’s throat. “If I had a spare hundred thousand, Tom, I’d be buying the studio for her.” He leaned forward, using his height to intimidate, and he dropped his voice low so there was no chance of anyone overhearing. “So this is why you’re here? To rip us off? To fleece your daughter of her savings?”
For the briefest moment, a flare of fear pierced Tom’s sanguine demeanor. “Luke...” He shook his head as if Luke was a child who needed reassuring. “I’m her father and like all fathers, I just want the best for her.”
“The hell you do.” The urge to protect Erin from this man, from the world, from everything bad, took hold of him with such ferocity of feeling that it almost knocked him off his feet. “She’s told me how you love the thrill of a fast buck and I don’t know what this too-good-to-be-true investment is all about but there are two things I’m certain of—the company will have your name on it somewhere and I won’t allow you to destroy everything Erin’s working so hard for.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed as if sizing him up and then he shrugged as if they’d only been discussing the poor performance of the local baseball team. “You’re her latest boyfriend, Luke, but you know she’s planning on returning to Minneapolis, right? Going on her track record, you won’t be around much longer whereas I’m her father. Who do you think she’s going to take advice from?”
The man who loves her.
Me.
The thought exploded in his brain, shattering years of belief that he didn’t want love, marriage and the whole damn thing of children, dogs and a pet alpaca. He hadn’t wanted it with other women, but with every fiber of his being he wanted all of it with Erin. Erin who’d exposed what was lacking in his life and had opened his eyes to what his life could be. Made him see what he really wanted.
He loved her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, loving her, protecting her and making her happy.
And it started right now. “Tom,” he said with the steel of a man protecting his family, “I’m going to walk you up to Erin where you will make your apologies, tell her you’re sorry but you’ve been called back to whatever swamp you came out of and then you are going to drive back down my driveway, leave my property and never come back.”
As if realizing he’d explored an avenue of revenue to its cul-de-sac, Tom did exactly that with all the charm and grace he was known for.
* * *
Erin watched the dust settle on the farm road as her father’s car disappeared from view and she realized that Luke was clutching her hand so tightly that he was crushing her fingers. “Hey, ease up.”
He glanced down at her, his jaw tight, and then he smiled. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
She really didn’t know. Her father had left almost as quickly as he’d arrived, appearing from nowhere and now apparently returning there. The time they’d spent together today had been enjoyable but she’d been on edge the whole time. Now relief tangoed with disappointment, sending unsettling feelings whizzing along her veins. She didn’t know what to think.
Think happy. “Luke, can we take a walk to the sunflower field?”
“Sure.” He whistled Mac.
The border collie raced over to him and Maggie-May followed, her shorter legs working overtime to keep up with the bigger dog.
“I don’t have Maggie-May’s leash.”
“You’ll behave, won’t you, MM.” He bent down and scooped her dog up into his arms.
Maggie-May, who looked tiny against his broad chest, didn’t bark or struggle at being summarily wrenched away from Mac, and neither did she growl. Instead she tried to lick Luke’s face.
Erin laughed, struck by the image. “Have you been taking dog-whispering lessons from your dad?”
Luke grinned, his eyes bright and full of life. “She and I have an understanding.”
A rush of something she couldn’t name filled her. God, she was going to miss him when she left but she wasn’t going to think about that. She rose up on her toes and kissed him until Maggie-May tried to get in on the act too.
Luke released her dog and they strolled down to the sunflower field and clambered up the rails and sat on the fence. The white canopy for the wedding service had been erected earlier in the day and tomorrow the chairs and green carpet would be set out. Sunflowers would be tied with green ribbon to decorate the chairs which lined the aisle. She could barely believe they were less than forty-eight hours away from the big day.
She leaned into Luke. “Do you have your phone? I want to check the forecast.”
He passed the device over with an indulgent smile. “It wouldn’t dare rain on Connie Littlejohn. She wouldn’t allow it.”
She thought of everything she had riding on this wedding shoot. “It has to be perfect, Luke.”
He slipped his arm around her just as the sun dropped below the tall flowers and fingers of fire-red and orange spread across the sky. Pressing a kiss into her hair, he said, “It already is.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Here you go, Dad.” Luke had made coffee in the office and he handed his father a mug. They were taking a break after having spent an hour with the vet doing a herd check. The results were pleasing with many cows ready to be impregnated.
“Did you remember my sugar?”
Luke laughed. “Amazingly, it hadn’t gone hard.” When his mother made the coffee it was always served with thick cream but never sugar and his father had always hidden a jar of the sweet stuff in t
he office.
“A good seal keeps out the air and the ants,” his father joked. “I’ll start on the AI for you as soon as I’ve drunk this.”
A strand of guilt wound through Luke. When his father had arrived back on the farm, he’d immediately taken on the milking but as the weeks passed Vern had taken on more and more work. Luke had let it happen without comment, not prepared to discuss it with his father because he’d known if he did it would lead directly to Vern saying, “I need a decision.” That in turn would lead to an argument.
“I’m fine to do it, Dad. Why don’t you and Mom take the boat out on the lake?”
“Are you telling me you don’t want me to do it?” The reflections in his father’s direct gaze matched the firm set of his mouth.
“No, it’s just I don’t think you working almost full-time on the farm is what Mom thinks is a vacation. I couldn’t help notice that you and Mom seem a bit...”
“Leave your mother and me out of this.” His father stared silently into the old mug that Luke had given him one Father’s Day years and years ago. Finally, a long sigh rumbled out of him. “She wants me to play golf.”
“I thought you liked it.”
“I did when I played it a few weeks a year during the summer.”
Luke thought about the phone calls from his father over the past year. “But not three times a week?”
“Hell, no.”
Luke studied the tension on Vern’s face and a slow realization dawned. His workaholic father hadn’t adapted to retirement in quite the way he thought he’d done. “So despite some of the crap you’ve been dishing out to me, you working on the farm these few weeks isn’t all about you getting prepared in case I walk away, is it?”
His father shifted in his chair but had the decency to meet his gaze. “Not exactly, no.”
Luke felt some of the weight in his chest lightening. “Why didn’t you tell me you missed the farm?”
His shoulders slumped. “Because of your mother. Because in the six months before I left I recognized your eagerness to take over and your frustrations that I was still running the show. They were identical to mine when I was your age.”
Luke didn’t understand. “But Grandpa died before he could hand the farm over to you.”
“I know and truth be told, I doubt he ever planned to hand over the farm to me. Like his father before him and back down the line of Anderson men, he would have chosen to die with his boots on if that truck hadn’t taken him first.”
“I didn’t realize.”
Vern shrugged. “You were young when it happened but I have to tell you, the three years before your grandpa died were tough. I felt hog-tied. I was thirty years old with three kids and I was still working for my father, not with him. I even investigated making cheese.”
Luke remembered his mother’s comment about the cheese tours and stared at him in astonishment. “I can’t imagine you making cheese.”
His father’s mouth curved into a wry smile. “That’s how desperate I’d got. Making cheese would have made me my own boss and I’d no longer have Dad looking over my shoulder all the time and clicking his tongue at me.”
Luke was trying to absorb it all. “That’s why you retired? To give me free rein of the farm?”
He nodded. “That and your mother. She was desperate to go to Arizona and if I couldn’t farm anymore then I needed to be a hell of a long way away from the place.”
“Shit, Dad.”
“Yeah.” He drained his mug.
Incredulity filled him. His father had left the farm earlier than he’d wanted to allow Luke the opportunity to work it his way. No wonder Vern had been so furious with him when he’d said he wasn’t happy. His unhappiness and lack of direction had been the ultimate betrayal of a sacrifice Luke hadn’t even known his father had made.
He wanted to honor what his father had done for him and he pulled up a spreadsheet on the computer. “Dad, can you take a look at this and give me your thoughts?”
Vern pulled his glasses out of his top pocket, slid them up his nose and peered at the screen.
* * *
On the morning of the Littlejohn wedding, Erin had risen well before the milkers and while they worked, she’d held her breath, watching the dawn crawl bright and clear over the horizon. Then she’d breathed out. The farm, bright, shiny and clean after a light shower of rain at midnight, glowed as if it knew it was on show today. The corn leaves shone glossy green, the sunflowers positively beamed, the stream that run under the covered bridge gurgled and sparkled and the B and B in its Victorian splendor waited expectantly for the bridal party to arrive.
All of that had been hours ago and now Erin was waiting for the all-important text that would fire her into action. Everyone else was doing their allotted jobs, with Martha, Keri and Phil all helping Wade out in various ways and Vern looking after the farm. Even Luke had got involved. At breakfast, she’d almost choked on her toast when he’d said, “Do you want me to lug your gear around for you today? Hold the flash, stuff like that?”
She hadn’t been able to hide her disbelief. “You’ve been adamant from the start you’ve wanted nothing to do with this wedding and now you’re offering to be my assistant?”
He grinned sheepishly. “If it’s going to help you take your best shot ever for that award thing, then I can handle crazy Connie Littlejohn for a few hours.”
She’d been so stunned she hadn’t even called him on the fact that Connie wasn’t crazy. He understood how important the Memmy was to her and he wanted to help. The lump in her throat had blocked all words so she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Holding her tightly, he’d kissed her back and then brushing her hair behind her ear, he’d said, “I’ve got champagne chilling and tonight, after you’ve taken your last photo, and the newlyweds are enjoying their reception, you and I are going to enjoy ourselves.”
She’d nibbled her bottom lip. She’d been waiting so long for this day and now it was here strands of anxiety ran through her. “When I’ve seen the rushes and found the photo, then we can celebrate.”
He’d kissed her on the nose. “Oh, we’ll be celebrating all right.”
Now, as she stood staring out the cottage window, she appreciated his belief in her photographic skills and every time she thought about his offer to help and his plans to celebrate the shot, the lump in her throat returned. She’d been on her own for so long, pushing forward with her business plans, that she’d forgotten what support was like.
You’ll miss him.
As her phone beeped, she shoved the thought down deep. Bridal party has arrived. You’re on. Wade.
She ran over to the B and B and as she opened the door she heard Connie’s voice floating down the stairs. “Is that the only champagne you’ve got?”
“It was the one your fiancé ordered,” Wade replied calmly.
“Honestly, I only gave Toby one job to do for this entire wedding and he couldn’t even get that right. I want...” Connie named another brand.
Recognizing bridal nerves, Erin ran up the stairs and passed Wade coming down. “Do you have the champagne she wants?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ve got one bottle, which will be plenty because the rest of the wedding party is fine with the one Toby ordered.”
She gave his arm a squeeze. “Thanks. Is Nicole here?”
“She was, but Connie insisted she go to the sunflower field and text her a photo of the setup.”
Surprise slugged her. “But I sent her one this morning.”
Wade shrugged. “I guess she wants reassurance.” Continuing up the stairs, Erin arrived at the honeymoon suite, which Connie was using as her dressing room. With her makeup complete, her thick, black hair swept up high on her head and a tiara in her hair, the bride looked utterly regal.
“Connie, you look amazing. Aren’t we lucky with the perfect weather?”
“It wouldn’t dare rain,” she said, sipping the champagne with a grimace. “Where have you been? I expected you to be here to meet me.”
Erin let the disapproval flow over her. “We thought it best to give you a few minutes to settle into the room and open the champagne.” Turning, she introduced herself to the maid of honor and one of the six bridesmaids. The two women were busy enjoying Wade’s canapés and she assumed the other bridesmaids were dressing in another room down the hall.
A harried woman rushed into the room with a large white dress bag slung over her arm. “Darling, it’s time to start getting dressed.”
“No, it’s not, Mom,” Connie said sharply. “I gave you the schedule. I’m having photos in my underwear first and then getting dressed.”
As Connie slipped off her silk robe, Sarah, the overly pale maid of honor with jet-black hair, said, “Toby’s going to die when he sees you in that corset.”
“That’s if he can get her out of it,” muttered Zoe, Connie’s younger sister.
“Shut up, Zoe,” Connie said tightly.
Sarah threw Zoe a scared and pleading look as if to say, “Don’t go there.”
“Why?” Zoe asked, her chin tilting sharply. “All I’m doing is telling the truth. Everyone knows he got so smashed at the bachelor party that he couldn’t walk a straight line let alone operate his fingers to unlace a corset. And last night at the rehearsal dinner—”
“I. Said. Shut. Up!” Connie’s mouth was a jagged line of red lipstick.
“Now, girls...” Their mother’s ineffectual voice trailed off.
Recognizing the signs of a stressed bride and the undercurrents of family tensions, Erin swung into action. “If everyone can just give me five minutes alone with the bride that would be fantastic. Please go check that the other bridesmaids are dressed and ready for photos. I’ll call you back when she’s ready to put on the dress.”
