The Last MacKlenna

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  Elliott pointed to the last chair placed at a long, mahogany table that could easily fit twenty. “Sit here.” He then rolled the wheel chair to the head of the table.

  The wait staff poured wine and served hot bread. As everyone munched on the buttermilk biscuits, Allie’s fiancé Bill asked, “What happens financially, Elliott, if the farm has to pay the shareholders? Nineteen million is no small payout.”

  Elliott put down his butter knife and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. “If the shareholders sue the farm, we’ll have a year or two while the case is litigated. That will give us time to liquidate assets or sell off a portion of the farm to cover the loss, if it comes to that.”

  “Can the farm absorb the hit?” Jake asked.

  “The farm’s been around almost two centuries. It’s not going anywhere,” Elliott said. “You don’t have to worry about your jobs, if that’s what’s on your mind.”

  Whispers of relief spread quickly around the table. Without staring, she watched above the rim of her wine glass, sipping, noting tension slip from eyes and jaws. Her eyes met Elliott’s. He smiled, not a bedroom smile with twinkling eyes, but a polite one. Thank goodness. If he smiled at her the way he did in bed, she’d melt into a messy puddle on the floor. From a distance, his eyes and lips could titillate as well as his fingers and other body parts that she couldn’t think about without wearing a heated blush.

  “If you’re interested in riding,” Doc said to Meredith, pulling her back to the here and now, “Stormy could use a workout.”

  “Do you think he’ll let me? I thought he was a one-rider horse.”

  “You can handle him,” Elliott said with a quirky grin.

  She ducked her head and politely wiped her mouth. She doubted anyone at the table missed Elliott’s double meaning. “I’d love to explore the farm. Is there any place I shouldn’t ride?”

  Jake choked and grabbed his throat, but he gave the okay signal with his other hand. “I’d stay away from the cemetery,” he finally said. “Stormy threw Kit how many times, Elliott?”

  Elliott’s jaw tightened, and he said in a gruff voice, “Several.”

  “It’s those damn ghosts. We can’t see them, but the horses can,” Doc said. “Stormy’s especially sensitive when it comes to the see-through people.”

  Elliott moved food around the plate’s flowery pattern as if trying to make designs with the vegetables.

  Doc elbowed Meredith. “Elliott’s even more sensitive than Stormy, but he claims he’s never seen one.”

  Elliott dropped his fork, clanging the silver against the china. “Doc, you know—”

  “Then tell us what you think of the farm’s ghosts,” the vet said.

  Elliott put his elbows on the table and tapped his fingertips together. “Kit saw her ghost the day she turned ten. The apparition made several appearances every year. I never saw him and I’m glad for it.” He picked up his fork and jabbed a piece of turkey. “And that’s enough talk of ghosts.”

  “We won’t mention them again if you’ll tell us who’s entertaining at our Hogmanay,” Kevin said.

  “Don’t you want to be surprised?” Elliott asked.

  “Allie and I are spearheading the event, Boss, and we don’t know the most important part of the night.”

  “Wynonna,” Elliott said under his breath.

  Allie tapped her nails against her wine glass. “We think you should tell—”

  “Wynonna?” Shock riddled across Kevin’s face.

  “Wynonna?” Allie’s face mirrored Kevin’s.

  “You got Wynonna for the party?” Kevin stood and bowed. “Kemosabe, you’re my hero.” Before he sat down, he strummed an air guitar and sang, “I know that look. Don’t you throw that mojo on me.”

  David joined Kevin singing the song and even played drums with his fingers tapping against the table. Then Allie and Jake joined in. Meredith thought she had fallen into the dinner scene in the movie My Best Friend’s Wedding.

  On the last note, everyone except Elliott applauded and threw out titles of favorite Wynonna tunes to sing next.

  Doc elbowed Meredith again. “The MacKlennas loved music. Depending on Elliott’s mood, he either sings or cries.”

  “Wynonna came for the Derby last year, and we all fell in love with her,” Allie said. “But Kevin fell the hardest.”

  Kevin slapped his chest, giving a crestfallen impression. “But she only had eyes for Regal Now.”

  “No way can you compete with that stallion,” Bill said, laughing, holding his hands a good twelve inches apart.

  Kevin reached behind Susan, winking, and punched the trainer in the arm. “You don’t know what I got. Shut up.”

  “You’re comparing him to the wrong horse, Bill. Check out Regal Tomorrow,” Doc said.

  Bill doubled over, laughing. “Have you seen Regal Tomorrow lately? Even that colt’s got Kevin beat.”

  The laughter continued until there wasn’t a dry eye at the table. Meredith thought of her own staff, and while the very diverse group was close, there had never been the kind of camaraderie she found at this table, where love abounded. Was it possible to instill that now at the winery and start a new tradition? Change begins at the top. She hadn’t even told Cate about her tumor. How could this kind of compassion develop among co-workers when she withheld information that would draw people together? In her heart, she wanted it, but that damn glass house mentality kept her frozen inside its walls.

  From the corner of her eye, she spotted Elliott lift his index finger an inch from the tabletop and lowered the digit to tap twice. Her watchful gaze then drifted to his face. He smiled and patted her hand.

  David, sitting at the opposite end of the table, pushed back his chair. “I don’t want to stop the party, but I have orders from Dr. Lyles. I have to take the host back to the cottage.”

  Elliott laced his warm fingers with hers. “Stay, if you want.”

  She placed her other hand on top of his. “I’m with you, babe.”

  A few minutes later, bundled up, they made their way back to the cottage with David pushing the wheelchair.

  “I caught you tonight,” she said.

  “At what?” Elliott asked. “And please don’t say I was staring at one of the other women at the table.”

  Meredith heard a snicker and wasn’t sure if it came from David or the wind. “Well, I should hope you weren’t lusting after—”

  “I have eyes for only one woman. If you need convincing, I will, in just a few minutes.”

  “Either you have a guilty conscience or you’ve been accused of ogling women other than your date.” She heard the same snicker again and turned toward David, whose stony face was visible in the landscaping lights planted along the path to the cottage.

  “So what did you catch me doing?” Elliott asked.

  “Signaling David.”

  Elliott chuckled. “I bet you didn’t.”

  “Ha, I did, too. You raised your index finger and tapped the table twice.”

  David laughed this time. “She almost caught you.”

  “What do you mean, almost?”

  “You saw the signal to expect a signal.”

  Meredith stopped, but David kept pushing the wheelchair. “Wait a minute. You gave him another signal?”

  “While you were watching my finger, you weren’t looking at my other hand, were you?” Elliott said.

  “The first signal is only the warning. The second one is the message,” David said.

  Meredith caught up with the wheelchair. “What would happen if David missed the first signal?”

  “You were watching me,” Elliott said. “You weren’t watching him. So you missed his signal.”

  Meredith stopped again. “What was the signal?”

  “A double blink,” Elliott said.

  “This is just a game. Isn’t it?”

  “It was until we tried it out at a meeting,” David said.

  “So you, Kevin, and David know the same signals.”
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  “Yes,” Elliott said.

  She followed David and the wheelchair up the ramp to the cottage’s back door. “Why didn’t Kevin end the party? Didn’t he see it?”

  “It wasn’t meant for Kevin. He has the night off,” Elliott said.

  Meredith held the door, and they entered the kitchen. “Are you going back to the mansion?” she asked David.

  “I’ll stay here tonight.”

  Elliott tossed his cap on the kitchen table. “He’s afraid I’ll forget about my leg again and try to run sprints in the middle of the night.”

  Meredith cringed. Would Kevin have reported to David what happened to Elliott earlier? If she found Kevin running into the bedroom embarrassing, she’d find David at the bedside discreetly covering Elliott’s condom-clad penis humiliating. As hot as her face felt, it had to be the color of a Montgomery Pinot Noir. “I’m going upstairs to change and check email.”

  David pushed the wheelchair through the kitchen and out into the hallway.

  “Give us thirty minutes,” Elliott said.

  She bounded up the stairs. The inner circle holds no expectation of privacy. From this point on, she’d hold her secrets as close to her chest as cards in a poker game. There would be no tells from her. Not a heavy breath, not a twitch or a shake, not even a sigh. Maybe the MacKlenna type of camaraderie wasn’t such a good thing after all.

  In her room, she booted up her laptop. There were three emails from Gregory. The first one advised her that he’d interviewed the candidate for the social media position, that it went well, and that he wanted her to meet with the man on Tuesday. His second email included PDFs of the marketing brochure, complete except for her article on the history of the winery. If she spent Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday working, she could have her part written. What about Elliott’s surgery? Her stomach tightened at the thought of leaving him, but what could she do? She had responsibilities, and he had his clan.

  She opened Greg’s next email.

  Meredith, I hate to do this electronically, but since I won’t see you, I wanted you to know that I’m proposing to Cate on New Year’s Eve.

  “I’ll be damned.” She quickly wrote back that she couldn’t be happier. Now with Cate planning a wedding, Meredith knew she wouldn’t burden her friend with news of her cancer. She closed the computer and chewed on her bottom lip. I’m by myself on this one. She walked into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. Don’t fall into the black hole tonight, Mer. There’s a handsome Scotsman downstairs waiting for you.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  MacKlenna Mansion – December 31

  FOLLOWING A NIGHT of making love, Meredith woke alone—again. The covers were twisted and partially tossed on the floor, and the smell of sex wafted around her, teasing her with delicious memories. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Elliott had awakened early, kissed her good morning, murmured what he wanted to do to her later, and left to take a shower before an early conference. She had immediately gone back to sleep. Had she ever felt so unmotivated to work? Never. The Zac Brown Band’s song “Knee Deep” came to mind. The only worry in my world is the tide gonna reach my chair. Knowing the feeling would last temporarily gave her more freedom to enjoy it.

  Stretching languidly, she wondered why no woman had ever captured Elliott—a loving, passionate man. As she considered the question, his hospital behavior came to mind. Maybe he acts like an ass more often than those in his inner circle are willing to admit. Then she thought back to last night’s dinner. The people at the table were not all inner circle members, and they loved him, too. If his acceptance of her reconstructed breast demonstrated his compassion, then she certainly understood their devotion to him. Where did that leave her? Right where she’d been since she met him. Facing breast cancer.

  She searched the bed and found her gown tangled up in the wrinkled, knotted covers. Elliott had pulled it off her before she’d even put her head on the pillow. Magic hands, magic tongue, and magic . . . well . . . everything about him had a magical touch.

  If she were going horseback riding, she needed to get up and get moving, but coffee came first. She turned the corner into the kitchen and barreled right into David, who grabbed her arms to keep her steady on her feet. “Did ye’ sleep well?” he asked, releasing his grip.

  She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes and her brain locked on the Glock in his shoulder holster. Although guns didn’t scare her, David wearing one reminded her of the dangerous cloud hovering over MacKlenna Farm until the person responsible for murdering Galahad was arrested.

  “I did.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Where’d you put Elliott?”

  “He’s working in his office.”

  “At the mansion?”

  “Here at the cottage.” David pointed toward the hallway. “It’s across from the living room.”

  “I think I’ll pop in and see him before I go riding.” She headed out of the kitchen.

  “His attorney and board of directors are with him,” David said.

  She made a quick U-turn. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. Elliott’s eyes would light up, but I think you’d be embarrassed.” He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

  “You’ve got me figured out.” She took the cup and sipped.

  “I think you expect privacy, and his lifestyle doesn’t put a high priority on that.” David leaned his hip against the counter and drank his coffee. A comfortable silence settled between them. After a couple of sips, he said, “Kevin should have been more sensitive when he barged in on you yesterday.”

  The heat of embarrassment went from her scalp to her chest. She looked down at the polished oak floor. “You wouldn’t have come running if you heard Elliott screaming?”

  “I would have come running.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Then what are you saying?”

  “Knowing he was with you, I wouldn’t have been there as quickly.” David quirked his shoulders. “We have different roles in Dr. Fraser’s life. Kevin’s his aide. That means he’s always within hearing distance, regardless of the situation.” David refilled his cup. “How’s your coffee?”

  “It’s good. Did you make it?”

  “Hard to mess up in one of these do-all machines.”

  She noticed the time on a wall clock. “Oh, goodness. I need to get dressed.” She chewed her lip. “They’ll see me if I go up the front steps, won’t they?”

  “Take the rear stairs.”

  She looked around, puzzled. “Where are they?”

  He put down his coffee cup and waved for her to follow. Across from Elliott’s bedroom, David opened a door that she’d assumed was a closet. A solid wood spiral staircase hugged the back wall. “This will take you to the guest suite.”

  “What was this?”

  “A bathroom. Elliott had a half-bath built at the other end of the hall.”

  “Handy. Where does it come out? I’ve opened all the doors in the bedroom.”

  “The wardrobe.”

  Meredith laughed, shaking her head. “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Instead of Narnia, you fall into Elliott’s bed. What a sense of humor.”

  David’s mouth twitched. “If you’re going riding now, I’ll call the stallion barn.”

  “Tell them I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” She trucked up the steps. At the top, she pushed the wardrobe’s doors, and they flung open. She had tried to open it before but the knobs wouldn’t turn and she assumed it was locked. The design and creativity both awed and tickled her. “God, the man’s got an ego.” With a tongue like he has, he deserves to have a big ego.

  She took a quick shower before dressing in winter riding breeches, jacket, and tall boots. With a bounce to her step, she headed out to go riding. Her eyes widened when she entered the main stallion barn. Definitely five-star horse accommodations. The rubber-matted floors of the six seventeen-by-seventeen foot stalls were covered with straw. The walls were paneled i
n dark oak. A brass nameplate hung on each stall door. Several of the stallions’ names were familiar to her. They had all won a Grade One stakes race. Impressive stable.

  The stalls surrounded an open, brick-floored area with a pointed ceiling rising to a cupola. Gorgeous. A natural horse smell permeated the air. Off to the side was a padded-walled room where the stallions covered the mares. The floor consisted of cut-up tires. Only the best for multi-million-dollar Thoroughbreds.

  A groom had already put Stormy under tack and wrapped the reins around the back of the saddle for safety. She approached the horse’s front shoulder and patted him, cooing softly.

  Bill walked out of the breeding shed. “Good morning, Meredith.”

  “Is there anything I should know before I mount up?”

  The trainer put his hands on his hips, elbows jutting out, and rocked back and forth on his boot heels. “Stormy’s not difficult, but he is a stallion. I don’t know how much experience you have.”

  “Elliott said I should be able to handle him. Would you mind giving me a leg up?” She pulled the reins from around the saddle, grabbed them in a half cross, put her right hand on the pommel, and caught a lock of mane.

  Bill stood next to her. “You ready?”

  She bent her knee. “Ready.” With his assistance, she sprang up and came down nice and soft on Stormy’s back.

  “I’m impressed. Even legging you up, you did most of the work. Came down light in your saddle.”

  “I ride a retired racehorse.” She slipped her feet into the stirrups and then tied a double loop knot in the reins. “He bolted the first time I tried to mount him. I learned to come down on his back as gently as possible.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Quiet Dancer.”

  Bill whistled. “No wonder Elliott said you could handle Stormy. He’s a pussycat compared to your horse.”

  “Let’s hope so.” She eased Stormy out of the barn and into the razor-sharp sunshine bursting from a trough of blue sky. “Okay, boy. How about we do a fly-by in front of the cottage?” She doubted Elliott would be watching, but on the off chance he was, she wanted to wave. A rush of disappointment swamped her when she didn’t see him. “Oh, well, where to now, Stormy?”