Walker Pride

by Bernadette Marie

  Chapter Two

  Eric was still finishing the roll he’d stolen from Susan’s catering tray when he walked into his father’s home office. When his entire family was in one small room, he realized just how big a family it was.

  His father and uncle sat in the chairs that faced the desk. His grandfather’s attorney sat behind the desk.

  Tension was thick in the air as all eyes diverted to him. Without a word, he only gave the glaring crowd a nod and leaned up against the doorjamb next to his brother.

  The lawyer opened the sealed envelope and Eric watched as his stepmother’s hand came to his father’s shoulder. She was worried she’d lose her home. Truth was, he was a little worried he’d lose his as well.

  As the lawyer began with formalities, stating that when his grandfather penned the will he was of sound mind. Eric wondered how sound minded one would have to be to sit down and document who gets what when you kick the bucket.

  Bethany caught his eye in the other corner of the room. At least someone told her the old man had died. He gave her a smile when she looked his way and she diverted her attention back to biting her nails—a bad habit she’d always had.

  Eric thought it was odd that both of his uncle’s ex-wives were there. He could be absolutely sure his grandfather hadn’t left them anything. He’d never liked either woman his uncle had married. Nor had he liked Bethany’s mother either. Uncle Bryce had never had luck with the women.

  That thought stuck with him. He was forty and he hadn’t had much luck either. Perhaps he’d better not judge too heavily.

  The lawyer continued on with the formalities, noting that his father was to be the executor of the estate. That hadn’t been a surprise to anyone in the room. Everett Walker was much more responsible then his brother Byron—even in his sixties.

  “The homestead will need to be divided,” the lawyer continued and that had a few more heads rise. “Within a year of my passing the North pasture and house will become the property of Elias Morgan.”

  “What?”

  Eric realized he and his father had spoken at the same time.

  The lawyer raised his hand to quiet them both. “It was settled in a bout of bad luck years ago. The Morgan family will regain rights to the property which I purchased from them nearly fifty years ago.”

  Eric stepped further into the room. “It just goes back to them? He bought the property. I’ve seen the bill of sale and the deed. Why would he just give it back?”

  He noticed his father’s fist tighten on his lap as he shrugged his wife’s hand off his shoulder and turned toward his brother.

  “Byron, I have the strangest feeling this has something to do with you.”

  His uncle’s chin darted out. “You would.”

  “Don’t you…” His father stopped as his stepmother placed a hand on his shoulder again. He took a breath. “Why is it that a piece of very good property, legally purchased fifty years ago, now goes back to the original owner in a ‘bout of bad luck?’”

  Eric watched as his uncle wiped his brow. “I might have lost it in a poker game.”

  His father came out of his chair and Eric moved in quickly before Dane grabbed hold of his arm.

  “Let him explain,” Dane said through gritted teeth.

  “Everyone suffers a bit of bad luck,” Jake, Byron’s eldest son, said in defense of his father.

  “Bad luck?” Eric shrugged off his brother’s grip. “That piece of land belonged to our grandfather, not your father. Who has the right to do something like that?”

  “Eric,” his father’s voice broke through as he stood. “My father would pay off any debt of his children. I can’t imagine what we’ll find out in the next year.”

  Byron pushed to his feet and his daughter Audrey moved in next to him. She was anything but fierce, so Eric could only imagine that she’d stepped in hoping no one would yell any further.

  “I’ve made my share of mistakes,” Byron said and both of his ex-wives gave a grunt in reply. “I lost the land.”

  “You lost my home,” Eric argued.

  “Spoiled, aren’t you?” Byron said, his eyes narrowed on Eric.

  “Spoiled? How can you even…”

  “Stop!” His stepmother moved in between them. “Byron, you know as well as everyone in this room that Eric has selflessly worked that land since he was old enough to do so. Taking it away from him is taking away his livelihood.”

  Byron’s eyes diverted to the ground. “It wasn’t my intention.”

  Eric’s father stepped in. “What did you look to gain?”

  “Does it matter? This was years ago.”

  “It matters to Eric for sure,” his father argued. “And it’ll matter to the income of this property. If we lose that acreage…”

  “We lose everything,” Byron said softly under his breath.

  “At least you know that,” his father scrubbed his hand over his face.

  Russell, Eric’s youngest brother, stepped forward. “The Morgan family has just acquired the fifteen-hundred acres to the East of their property.”

  Eric looked over at his brother. “When?”

  “Last month. That’ll double their size.”

  “And if they get our land back they will triple,” Eric let his head fall back and his eyes close. If the Morgans monopolized the area he could guarantee there would be nothing left for the Walkers. He was also certain that the Morgans would do anything to see that happen as well.

  The strife between the Walkers and the Morgans had been brewing as long as Eric had lived. Of course, that might have started over him as well. After all, his mother was Constance Morgan before she became a Walker—and that had been frowned upon.

  “Should I continue reading?” The lawyer looked at the men who had seemed to huddle in front of the desk.

  “Are we going to lose more?” Eric asked through gritted teeth.

  Susan finished the display of meats and breads. Though she hadn’t heard what was specifically said down the hall, she knew voices were rising.

  She brushed her hands over her apron and thought of the new recipe she wanted to try soon. If she could have her menu perfected before the day she opened her first restaurant—well that would be a dream come true, but she knew better than to dream.

  Here she was, thirty-five years old, going to trade school and preparing sandwich trays in other people’s kitchens. This didn’t seem to be the success she’d been hoping to have.

  Susan rearranged the trays on the counter to keep her mind calm and off of the voices down the hall.

  She thought of her ideal business location. Perhaps she’d have that restaurant if it hadn’t been for that bastard she’d spent so many years with. He’d left her with nothing—except that dream.

  Well, if for no other reason, she’d make sure she was the biggest success Georgia had ever seen in the business. She had some very steep competition there, but she could do it.

  The voices down the hall began to rise again. Susan wrung her hands together as she heard footsteps coming toward her. It was time to put on her smile and serve this family that yesterday was very cordial—today, however, she didn’t know what to expect.

  The young woman that walked into the kitchen looked very pale and out of place. Her hair was long, red, and a mess of wild curls.

  She hadn’t been at the funeral. Susan would have remembered this beautiful woman.

  “Can I make you a plate?” Susan asked with that plastered smile in place.

  “Oh, I…perhaps I should leave. I don’t think I belong…”

  “Bethany,” the name carried from down the hall and a moment later Eric walked through the door.

  Susan felt her breath catch when she saw him walk into the room with determination in those dark eyes. He had to be well over six feet tall. From the scruff on his cheeks, the hair that was slightly too long, and the worn jeans he wore—every inch of him screamed masculine.

  He towered over the redhead who was shorter t
han Susan’s five foot four. She’d be very disappointed if she turned out to be his wife—or beautiful lover.

  “You don’t have to leave,” he said in a low growl.

  “I don’t belong here. He might be my father, but this isn’t my family,” she said and wiped a tear from her cheek.

  Susan reached for a napkin and handed it to her before taking a giant step back.

  Eric shifted a look her way and then back to Bethany. “You are part of this family. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

  “No one in there respects me.”

  Eric chuckled. “You and I are the lone bastards, aren’t we?”

  Finally, Bethany smiled. “I suppose we are.” She wiped her cheek again. “I didn’t come here thinking that something would be left for me. I’m not a gold digger. I have a career.”

  “And you’re very good at it.”

  That brought a smile to her lips and at that moment Susan knew who this woman was. Now it was time to keep her professionalism intact. Though, she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that. She was standing in the kitchen with Bethany Waterbury!

  Eric leaned his hip against the island as if to shoulder Susan out of the conversation. “Why did you come?”

  “He was my grandfather.”

  “You didn’t make the funeral.”

  Bethany’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t told about the funeral. In fact, I hadn’t heard he’d passed until yesterday. I flew right out.”

  Eric nodded. “I wondered.”

  “To be honest, I thought that if I showed my father some compassion, he’d offer some in return.”

  “I heard your mother passed before Christmas. I’m truly sorry.”

  Now Susan saw the actress emerge. Bethany’s eyes had brightened and her shoulders pushed back. But she could see through her. This was just a costume as she stood up to her cousin.

  “Thank you. No one from here sent a card.”

  Eric winced. “Right. Byron didn’t mention it until after the New Year.”

  “Like I said before, I’m not part of this family.” Susan watched as Bethany’s eyes moistened again. “In that room I have two sisters and two brothers arguing over what should come to them. Not one of them said hello to me.”

  Susan felt as though she might cry now. What kind of family doesn’t even accept one of their own?

  “I should go,” Bethany said as she wiped her eyes one last time with the napkin. “Though I don’t know where I’ll go. I came out here thinking he’d accept me, at least for a little bit. I’m between jobs and houses.”

  Eric shoved his hands in his pockets and his eyes deepened in color.

  “You came out here looking to stay?”

  Bethany shrugged. “I should have been welcome, right?”

  “Yes. But did he know that’s what you were doing?”

  “Even he hasn’t but given me a glance. I think he forgot who I was.”

  Susan didn’t mean to gasp out loud, but she had. “I’m sorry.” She walked toward them. “You need a place to live?”

  “Yes,” Bethany answered slowly—perhaps carefully.

  “I’m in need of a roommate,” Susan said realizing that living with an unemployed, but terrific, actress might be too much adventure for her. But she needed to find a roommate.

  “I don’t currently have a job,” Bethany said flatly.

  “I have six more catering jobs in the next eight days. I could use some help.”

  Bethany fisted her hands on her hips. “You don’t know me. I might be a lousy waitress.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Eric chimed in. “She’s an actress. She’s a fantastic waitress.”

  Susan noted the sarcasm and turned her shoulder to him as he’d done when he’d been talking to Bethany. “I’m Susan Hayes,” she said holding her hand out to Bethany.

  “Bethany Waterbury.”

  “I know. I’ve seen some of your films. You were really great in The Boyfriend Tomb.”

  Bethany raised her brows. “You like horror movies?”

  “Totally addicted to them. Can’t stop watching them. Can’t go into anyone’s bathroom without checking behind the shower curtain.”

  That warranted a laugh from each of them. “Eric, what do you think? Can I trust her?”

  Eric gave her a lookover and shrugged. “I’m sure she’s not as shady as some of the people you know in L.A.”

  “True enough,” Bethany said. “I’d like to see where you live and perhaps take you up on the offer.”

  “Wonderful. I could certainly use the help and the rent.” She could now hear the others coming toward her. “I have to get to work now.”

  Bethany looked over her shoulder as her sisters walked through the door with their mother. “I think I’ll slip out. Can I go up to your place, Eric?”

  He too looked around the room that was filling. “Yeah. I won’t be far behind you.”