Right Brother

by Patricia McLinn

  She deflated instantly.

  “I’ll meet you at your office after lunch,” he heard himself saying.

  “Okay.” But he saw that she didn’t believe it.

  “I’m not making any other promises, but I will be there.”

  He held her gaze. Even when he saw she wanted to look away. Even when he saw he was making her uncomfortable.

  “Okay,” she said again, and this time she did believe him.

  Why he’d needed her to acknowledge his promise, he had no idea. And now that she had, he couldn’t wait to leave.

  “Don’t expect me before two or three. Coach and I have a lot of catching up to do. But this afternoon, at your office we’ll talk more.”

  “Okay. Have a nice lunch.”

  He had the main door open when her voice came. “One thing, Trent.”

  He looked over his shoulder. She hadn’t moved. “Yeah?”

  “You shouldn’t thank the fates for getting away from Stenner Auto.”

  Ah, here it came. The sentimental pitch that this was as good as a family heirloom. Or he should feel Drago’s version of noblesse oblige to keep Stenner Auto going so citizens had a place to buy cars and get them fixed.

  “Yeah? Why not?”

  “Because the fates didn’t get you away. You did that. You worked hard to get away from Stenner Autos and you succeeded.”

  Chapter Three

  Why on earth had she opened her big mouth?

  Did she want to scare him off from buying the place?

  No, absolutely not. Even if he did make her uncomfortable, with that direct, penetrating stare, accompanied by a faint air of disapproval.

  She just hated hearing him pass off his success as fate. God knows his brother and father were willing to do that. It seemed wrong that Trent did, too.

  …somebody who spent half his life trying to get away from Stenner Autos and the rest of it thanking the fates he’s succeeded.

  There’d been something in the way he’d said it, something in the way he’d narrowed his eyes until only slits of the pale color showed between the thick, dark lines of his upper and lower lashes, that had made her feel she understood. That she knew his feelings.

  She’d thought when she and Eric went to college in Iowa that it meant they would start a new life, away from Drago. The school had been selected based on the best football program to showcase Eric. There’d been no question that Jennifer would follow wherever he chose to go.

  She hadn’t minded. She hadn’t considered studying anything in particular, just wanted to get a degree.

  She’d figured she’d adapt, and she had. She did okay in her classes, better, actually, than in high school. She’d made friends, especially at the beginning. She would have enjoyed staying on campus, but nearly every weekend Eric hadn’t had a game or practice he’d wanted to return to Drago. “To see what the hicks are doing,” he used to say. So she’d come with him. The friends she’d made on campus found other people to do things with who wouldn’t be gone most weekends.

  Trent had returned to Drago considerably less often. She thought back, trying to remember. He’d graduated from high school when she and Eric got married. The next summer, she knew he was back, because that was right after Eric’s injury. At least one Christmas after that, too, she thought. When Ashley was about two.

  That must be the last time she’d seen him.

  Pretty.

  The word went so far back in her memory that Jennifer thought it had always been there. It was something people said of her. Something nice. Not like Mark calling her Jenny-Poo-With-Poo-In-Her-Pants.

  Pretty was good. That much she knew.

  Then she’d learned its power.

  What a pretty girl!

  Her father had been holding her hand, trying to find a seat with a good view for one of Mark’s Little League games. He hadn’t been happy about having to take her, but Mom had a doctor’s appointment. He walked a lot faster than she did, and he tugged her hand when she got behind.

  “Already started,” he’d muttered, blocked by other people climbing the bleachers.

  Then a lady in the front row smiled at Jennifer, and said loudly, “What a pretty girl!”

  Daddy had looked around. First at the woman, then at her.

  For a second she’d been almost afraid, because Daddy’s eyes had that blank look, as though he didn’t even see her.

  But then he did, and slowly, a smile arrived. “Yes, she is. She’s a very pretty girl.”

  “Are you nuts?” Linc demanded.

  Trent sat on the concrete steps that led to old shop fronts on Main Street. It looked like one—Zeekowsky Shoe Repair, if his memory was right—was being renovated. But the workers were either off today or taking a lunch break elsewhere.

  From here he could see the café and spot Coach’s arrival. In the meantime he’d have privacy for this phone conversation.

  “You are nuts,” Linc amended before Trent could respond.

  Trent grinned. Imagining his friend and business manager’s face, incredulity adding a ruddier tinge to his coffee-colored skin. They’d met eight years ago at the wedding of Trent’s teammate to Linc’s sister, started talking investments and hit it off.

  There wasn’t anyone Trent trusted more. There wasn’t anyone who knew the ins and outs of his finances better. There wasn’t anyone whose chain was easier to jerk: just edge an inch toward being a fool with money.

  “You’re always the one saying don’t invest money you can’t afford to lose,” he said.

  He could hear Linc’s keyboard going, and knew his friend was already researching car dealerships in general and Stenner Autos in particular.

  “That’s a hell of a lot different from investing money you expect to lose.”

  “I didn’t say I expect to lose it. I asked how long it would take me to recover financially if I lost all the money it’ll cost to buy Stenner Autos.”

  Linc snorted. “From what you said, you should be expecting to lose it. Small town, selling a couple kinds of cars instead of specializing—I didn’t think manufacturers even let dealers do that. Thought you couldn’t sell competing new cars.”

  “Stenner Autos is grandfathered in. Started doing it so far back they didn’t have rules like that. But if the dealership officially goes bankrupt, it loses that exemption, and that’s one of its most valuable assets.”

  “Hmph. This place has assets? Besides, if it’s in the hands of a judge, how can you pull it back from the brink? Why would he let you try?”

  “You don’t know Drago. The Dixons and the Stenners go way back.”

  “Still doesn’t make this a good investment. Why couldn’t you start a Lexus dealership? Or Mercedes-Benz.”

  Trent laughed. “In Drago? Linc, we need to pry you away from that California wasteland and get you out here into the heart of the country. Status isn’t a cash crop the way it is in L.A.”

  Linc grunted. “You said it’s been losing money forever.”

  “Not forever. It used to support the Stenners very well.”

  “Times change.”

  “Yeah, they do.” Sometimes. And sometimes, even when times changed, people didn’t. “But change can be good. Turns out Zeke-Tech’s bringing a division of his company here.”

  He’d seen signs of decline in town, but also a subtle kind of perking up. Like the drooping flowers in a concrete planter by the café that Loris was tending with a watering can. It must have been an optical illusion, because he imagined he could see the purple flowers reviving from here.

  “That’s your town?” Trent could practically see Linc sitting up, intent with interest. “I heard about that move. Hmm, maybe this could work.”

  “Yeah? Well, don’t count on it,” Trent said, switching roles. “It will take a year, probably more, for enough folks to move here to really make a difference. And they’ll come with cars. So it could take even more years before they need a new one. So your concern’s well-founded.”

  �
�Yeah? When you start admitting I’m right, I know you’re in sorry shape. This isn’t all about the money, you know. You sure you want to climb back into that pit?”

  “No. But…” He gazed down the street.

  “But what?”

  “As far as I can tell, my brother left his wife—ex-wife—and daughter without any financial support.”

  Linc growled. He was not a fan of men who didn’t take care of their families. But he didn’t give up the fight. “And this is your problem how?”

  “Because I’m here,” Trent answered honestly. “I can’t say I ever would have thought to wonder how Jennifer and Ashley were provided for if I hadn’t stumbled onto the knowledge. But I can’t unstumble now.”

  “All right, all right. But how would your sinking money into Stenner Autos help your niece and her mama?”

  “Jennifer is handling the listing. She’d get the commission.”

  “So you’re going to buy this damn dealership so your niece’s mama gets a commission, Mr. Bleeding Heart? You sure that’s all it is? We both know you buying that place would make your daddy as happy as that man can get. You sure it’s not something to do with your daddy and that brother of yours? Which makes no sense. On the other hand, for your mama—”

  “Linc.”

  That stopped the flow of words. But after a moment broken only by the continued tap of computer keys, Linc exhaled loudly. “Well, it wouldn’t be pretty if it goes belly-up, but you could recover. Eventually. Might have to come work for me.”

  Trent groaned. It was the direst of dire threats. “I’d rather flip burgers or join the French Foreign Legion.”

  “You don’t get the luxury of choice when you spend your money on other luxuries. Like the luxury of playing Sir Galahad.”

  “This has nothing to do with—”

  “Save it. With the commission going to your sister-in-law—”

  “Ex-sister-in-law.”

  Linc made an explosive sound that combined a laugh, a groan and a healthy dose of I told you so. “Tell you what, Mr. Stenner. I’ve got some ideas we can talk about in a minute—unless you want to stay there and run it yourself.”

  “No way. I’ll put money into it, but I’m not staying here.”

  “Okay then, I’ll keep researching this business venture of yours. But I can tell you right now what the bottom line is.”

  He made Trent ask. “What’s the bottom line, Linc?”

  “If you want to have any luxuries besides choice, you’d better make sure that dealership becomes a success.”

  “I hope you had a pleasant lunch with Coach Brookenheimer,” Jennifer said, professionally cordial, when Trent walked into the shoe box she called an office at Roscoe Real Estate at two forty-five.

  “Very nice. Thanks. I’m making an offer on Stenner Autos.”

  Her mouth opened. Those parades of reactions streamed across her eyes again. Hope, fear, relief, more fear, uncertainty, triumph quickly reined in and another dose of fear—this one clearly centered around whether she’d heard him correctly. Or whether he was kidding.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not kidding. Nuts, maybe, but not kidding. I’m putting in an offer on Stenner Autos.”

  “What—” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “What’s your offer?”

  “The asking price.”

  “But—” She stopped that sentence by clamping down on her bottom lip, clearly deciding that encouraging a buyer who was willing to pay full price to negotiate was not a wise move.

  “So, what’s next?” Trent asked.

  “We… We talk to the judge.”

  White-haired Hector Dixon looked across his impressive desk at them.

  First at Jennifer, then longer at him. It made Trent feel as if he’d overlooked something. Something more than that he’d gone crazy.

  “These terms satisfy the conditions set with the creditors. Are you satisfied with the monetary amount of this offer, Jennifer?”

  “I am, Judge.”

  “Have you received any further word from that woman—what was her name? Duran? Doring? The one who—”

  “Your Honor, that’s a separate matter from this,” Jennifer said quickly.

  He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “That’s your opinion is it?”

  “Yes.”

  The older man continued looking at her from under his lids for a moment, then turned that look on Trent.

  What was going on? He hadn’t had much time to do detailed research, but he was confident Linc had given him the pertinent information in their second phone call after lunch. He knew about the deal brokered by the judge with the creditors—an unorthodox effort to avoid bankruptcy because that would end Stenner Autos’ deals with the auto manufacturers and most of its value would go down the drain, gaining the creditors nothing.

  He didn’t recall anything about a woman named Duran or Doring. So, what was this about?

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Hector Dixon said, then abruptly straightened. “I’m confident the creditors will go along. Trent’s going to buy Stenner Autos, and you’ll get your commission—” Beside him, Trent thought he heard an exhalation of pent-up breath from Jennifer. “That’ll all be straightforward as long as you and Trent agree to two conditions.”

  “What?” Jennifer looked puzzled.

  “It’s Stenner Autos, and Ashley’s a Stenner. So the first condition is you have an agreement drawn up, Trent, to assign a portion of the dealership to a trust for Ashley, to be administered by Jennifer.”

  “What portion?” Trent asked.

  “Ten percent,” Judge Dixon said.

  “Twenty,” Jennifer countered immediately.

  “Fifteen,” the judge said in an and that’s final voice.

  Trent bit back a dry smile. Interesting to have terms of his acquisition negotiated without any input himself. Linc would go nuts.

  The smile became harder to repress.

  But a fund for Ashley was a good idea. Having it come from the Stenners made it more right.

  “Twenty-five percent of the fund goes to a college account,” he said.

  Judge Dixon and Jennifer both turned to him, as if they’d forgotten he was there. In the judge’s face he saw approval, in Jennifer’s surprise.

  “Done,” the judge said.

  But Trent hadn’t forgotten how Dixon had introduced this topic. There was another shoe to drop. And no matter how much fun it was to ruffle Linc’s feathers, he wasn’t going to buy Stenner Autos at any cost.

  “What’s the second condition?”

  The judge met his gaze, and Trent let him see that he had limits. He definitely had limits.

  And then the old man went and pushed those limits.

  “You agree to hire Jennifer here, for one year as a manager, and you, Jennifer, agree to take the job.”

  “What?” Trent demanded, the implications of hiring her as a manager playing out in his head.

  Linc had said large dealerships had a general manger, an operations manager, a sales manager, in addition to the head of the service department. Stenner Autos couldn’t support anywhere near that staff, but would still need those duties fulfilled.

  So they’d worked out a plan on the fly to hire the best general manager they could find, so Trent could dump the whole mess in his lap. It was already going to be tight to pull together the money fast to get a general manager with as broad a background as they needed.

  Could they add another salary and afford to stick with that scenario?

  Even with Jennifer picking up some managerial duties, the general manager would need to fill a lot of roles, which translated into being able to command a high salary.

  So the answer was no. If Trent had to pay Jennifer a salary for a year, he couldn’t afford the kind of general manager that would allow him to be an absentee owner.

  He’d have to stick around and act as his own general manager. It was the only way they could swing it financially.

  Sti
ck around… God. The last thing on earth he’d ever wanted to do—run Stenner Autos.

  But unless he backed out now, he’d have no choice. He needed to make sure things went well and the place made money. Both so Jennifer and Ashley would be provided for and to protect his investment. And then there was the fact that if Stenner Autos went under while he owned it he’d never hear the last of it. Not from his father. Not from Linc. Maybe not even from his own conscience.

  He glanced at Jennifer. She seemed as stunned as he was.

  “But—but I have a job,” she said.

  “I’ve talked to Roscoe. There’s not enough real estate business to support a flea, much less a grown woman with a growing girl. You need something steady, reliable. After a year, if you want to go back to selling houses, Roscoe will take you back, and by that time there might be buyers, with these Zeke-Tech people coming in.”

  “She doesn’t know any more about running a car dealership than I do,” Trent objected.

  And that brought the whole thing home. He’d have to immerse himself in the topic that had been second only to Eric’s accomplishments at every dinner table conversation of his childhood.

  “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’ll learn,” the judge said, unconcerned. “Just like you will. So. It’s settled. I’ll have a side letter drawn up, and if you’d like to look it over…”

  “Damn right I would. Sorry, Your Honor,” Trent quickly added at the scowl from under bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “I’d like some time to call my financial adviser in California.”

  Judge Dixon looked at the clock, then the open leather-bound calendar on his desk. “Twenty minutes. Then we’ll meet here to sign the papers.”

  Twenty minutes.

  She had the judge’s office to herself for that time. It was cool and shaded. Serene in a utilitarian, masculine way. The leather chair she sat in was comfortable and pleasant.

  Jennifer felt as if she were sitting on ground glass.

  Trent had left looking like thunder to talk to his financial adviser.

  She wished she had someone to consult, just in case Trent didn’t tell Judge Dixon where to put his conditions.