The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  “Dr. Clemens, your care has been . . . adequate. I do not want to switch doctors.”

  “All right. I’ll continue to monitor your progress with diagnostic observation. No more tests.”

  She swallowed a sigh of relief.

  “But I must encourage you to keep our monthly appointments. And also reconsider counseling. Mrs. Easley, chronic disease isn’t easy to live with. Or to understand. It doesn’t just take a physical toll, it also affects you emotionally.”

  “I realize that. And I’m fine.”

  He sat back down, pulled his prescription pad out of the pocket of his white lab coat, and scribbled on it. “Some of my patients also find comfort through prayer, or through their church family. I’ve seen faith have a drastic effect on their attitude, which in turn affects the body’s healing properties.”

  “Have any of them been cured?”

  He paused. “Of Parkinson’s? No.” He tore off the small square sheet of paper and handed it to her. “A refill for your current medication.”

  She shoved the prescription into her purse. She didn’t have a church family and couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed. Prayers. What good would they do now? In Cora’s opinion, praying was about as effective as swallowing snake oil.

  As she waited for her driver in the office lobby, she thought about Sawyer. How angry he’d been with her when he found out she’d tried to buy off Laura Stutzman. That had to be part of the reason he hadn’t returned to New York. No doubt he was so caught up in his relationship with Laura, and with that backward Amish life where he’d spent his formative teen years, that he’d forgotten all about her, his only blood relative.

  Or he was avoiding her on purpose.

  Either way, she couldn’t continue without seeing him again. She couldn’t afford the luxury of waiting for him to make up his mind. Somehow she had to convince him to reconsider his decision to turn his back on the legacy she’d offered him. He needed to come back to New York to face his past and accept his future. A future that didn’t include the Amish—or Laura Stutzman.

  She wasn’t sure how she would accomplish that task. But if there was one thing Cora Easley always got, it was her way.

  Cora went outside, where her chauffeur was waiting to open the back door of her Bentley. She slid inside, pulled her phone out of her purse, and dialed a number. After a few rings, a male voice answered.

  “Cora. Pleasure to hear from you, as always.”

  “Kenneth.”

  “It’s been a few days since your last call.” Her attorney’s smooth voice wafted through her ear. “Is everything all right? Have you heard from Sawyer?”

  “I need to meet with you right away,” she said.

  “Absolutely. I can make room for you on my calendar tomorrow—”

  “We must meet today.”

  “I’m due in court in two hours. I’m not sure how long I’ll be tied up.”

  Cora tapped her knee. “When you’re finished, come to the house. Don’t worry, I will pay your overtime fee.”

  “I’m not worried about that. You’ve always compensated me fairly.”

  “Better than your average client.” She sniffed.

  “True.” He paused. “Cora, business aside, I’m concerned about you.”

  “There is no need.”

  “Then why the rush to meet? The last time you were in this much of a hurry was when you found Sawyer. Did something happen to him?”

  “No.”

  Another pause. “Has something happened to you?”

  “I’ll expect you at my penthouse for supper.” Cora shut off the phone and stilled her trembling hands as she leaned back in the luxurious leather seat.

  Whether her grandson liked it or not, she had to get everything in order. Her affairs had to be set in stone—before it was too late.

  Johnny helped Caleb lift the heavy oak spindle and set it in place between two fence posts. He took the nail out of his mouth and started hammering. The fence around his parents’ small horse pasture needed fixing, and Johnny had spent the afternoon helping out Caleb while their father was working. He should have been working on his own place and looking for a new job, but Caleb had asked for his help, and Johnny wouldn’t refuse his younger brother.

  “Appreciate you coming out,” Caleb said as Johnny took another nail out of his tool belt.

  “No problem.”

  “Hopefully I can return the favor soon at your place. Have you gotten much done?”

  “A little.” He wouldn’t admit that he’d spent all his spare time looking for a job. This past Wednesday was his last day at Bender’s, but he hadn’t told his family. The excitement of Johanna’s birth had made it easy for him to keep his secret. “When I get the materials, Caleb, I’ll take all the help you can give me.”

  Caleb stopped hammering. “Maybe when you get the farm going I could come work for you.” He stared at his hammer. “The gut Lord knows it’s hard finding a job right now.”

  Ain’t that the truth, Johnny thought. But he didn’t say so out loud. Instead he set his problems aside to focus on their task. He and Caleb worked on the fence until the sun was directly overhead, beating its rays down on their backs, then took a break and sat in the shade of a huge oak tree.

  Caleb picked up a blade of grass and stuck it between his teeth. Johnny looked at him. It wasn’t like his brother to be this quiet. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Nix.”

  “Thou shalt not lie,” Johnny said in the most serious voice he could muster. “Especially to thy older, smarter bruder.”

  “You got the older part right.” Caleb pulled the grass out of his mouth. “Not sure you can help me with this.”

  “Why?”

  Caleb glanced at him. “It has to do with a maedel. You’re not exactly an expert.”

  “Ouch.” Johnny put his hand over his heart. “Way to drive in the knife.”

  “Hey, it’s your own fault.”

  Johnny let that comment slide. “So which maedel are we talking about? Bekah Yoder?”

  “Bekah?” Caleb snorted. “Why would you bring her up?”

  “You two have always spent a lot of time together.”

  “As friends. Only.” He stared out into the field. A light wind blew against the grass, making it lean sideways. “It’s actually her friend Miriam. She made a big deal yesterday when I asked her to Sunday’s singing.” He shook his head.

  “So she told you nee?”

  “She said she had to think about it. What’s there to think about?”

  “Why are you chasing after her anyway? You’re seventeen. Too yung for courting.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. You ruined any chance you had with Katherine Yoder.”

  Johnny grimaced. His little brother had sprouted in the last two years. The bu was not only an inch taller than him now, but he was built like a barrel and had arms twice his size. “Pretty free with the insults today, ya?”

  “I’m not insulting you. Just stating the truth. And I’m not too yung for courting.” He picked up another blade of grass. “Apparently God doesn’t see fit to drop a maedel in mei lap. Because if He did, I wouldn’t let her get away.”

  “If you’re referring to me and Katherine, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You never want to talk about her.”

  Johnny hopped up. He brushed the grass off his denim pants, not looking at Caleb. “Let’s just work on the fence, ya?”

  Caleb nodded, standing. “Whatever you say.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Cora peered at her attorney from across her large dining room table. She took a sip of her water. She hadn’t had wine since Sawyer left a few months ago. For some reason she no longer had a taste for it. “I believe I’ve made my wishes clear. I want you to liquidate my assets.”

  Kenneth’s jaw dropped as he held his fork in midair, filled with a piece of tender Alaskan poached salmon. She found t
hat her attorney responded better when rewarded with delicious food. “Cora, that’s a considerable amount of assets.”

  “I realize that.” Cora pierced a green bean with her fork but made no move to eat it. “I’m well aware of my net worth. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I want you to take care of it as soon as possible.”

  “I’m assuming you’re referring only to personal assets.” He seemed to relax a bit, taking another bite of salmon and washing it down with white wine. “Your properties in the Hamptons, Coral Gables—” He set the glass down on the polished mahogany table. “I recommend you donate your art collection to the Metropolitan.”

  “I’ve already written them a letter. You’ll find it in the packet of correspondence I will give you before you leave. Then there are the company assets.”

  “What about them?”

  “I want you to transfer them to my grandson.”

  This time Kenneth put the fork down. “I thought Sawyer wasn’t interested in the company.”

  “He’s not.”

  “Then why—”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  Kenneth pursed his lips. “You want me to put the shares in his name?”

  “Yes. All of them. I’m resigning from the board. The notification—”

  “Is in the packet.” Kenneth wiped his mouth with his napkin and frowned. “What’s going on, Cora?”

  “I already explained it to you.”

  “No, you haven’t.” He leaned forward. “I can’t fathom why you would do this. And you do realize before this transaction is legal Mr. Thompson will have to agree to it.”

  “You let me handle my grandson.”

  “I assume he knows nothing about this.”

  Cora didn’t reply.

  “Don’t you think he should? As your grandson and heir—”

  “Sawyer’s made his feelings about me and my money very clear.” She reached for her glass. Her hands shook and she quickly put them in her lap. “But circumstances have arisen that I believe will cause him to change his mind.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “I prefer not to divulge those at this time.”

  “Cora.” Kenneth leaned forward. “Don’t be hasty. You need to give Sawyer time to get used to all this. And give yourself some as well. You both just found out about each other a couple months ago.”

  “Time won’t change anything. I know what I’m doing, Kenneth.” She moved to stand. “If you can’t see to my wishes, I’ll have to find someone else who can.”

  Kenneth held up his hand. “No need, Cora. Please. Sit down.”

  She lowered herself into her seat, watching as her attorney composed himself. He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. “Cora, you know I’ll do anything you want. I will support you in any way.” His smile grew tighter. “If this is what you want, then I’ll make it happen. As long as I have Sawyer’s cooperation.”

  “Which you will. I’ll be in Middlefield next week. When I return I expect you to have all the paperwork in order.”

  “I’ll have my secretary get right on it.”

  Relieved, Cora stood again. Suddenly she was exhausted. “See that you take care of this, Kenneth. Immediately. And now, if you’ll forgive me, you’ll have to show yourself out.”

  Kenneth rose. “Are you all right?”

  “A touch of a headache. The papers are on the credenza by the front door. Peruse them and contact me in the morning with your plan. My flight leaves at nine.” She looked at him. “You will be well compensated, as always.” Before he replied, she left the dining room.

  On shaky legs she walked into her bedroom. She closed the door and leaned against it, steadying herself. Was the trembling because of the Parkinson’s or her growing doubt about the decision she’d just made? She was giving up everything she had worked for, all she’d accumulated and held important in her life. Although she would still have a vast fortune, she was willing to turn it all over to Sawyer the minute he agreed to accept it.

  And if he refused?

  She wouldn’t allow herself to think about that. This was her last chance. She had failed in convincing him of the importance of his legacy when they first met. She couldn’t afford to fail this time.

  Kenneth got into the limousine, clutching the leather folder filled with Cora’s personal papers. He flipped on the overhead light in the backseat and read over the documents. As he read, his frown deepened. Pulling out his cell phone, he punched in Sawyer’s number. When he heard the nasal recording stating the number was no longer in service, he clicked the phone off and dialed his secretary.

  “Valerie, I know it’s late. No, I didn’t realize you were on a date. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make it up to you. I need you to do something for me.” He looked at the papers in his lap as his secretary asked him a question. “Yes, Valerie. Something is definitely wrong.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Let me get this straight. You want to apply for a loan, but you don’t have any income?”

  Johnny ran his damp palms on the thighs of homespun pants. He nodded, trying to clear the thick lump of shame lodged in his throat. He’d never had to borrow money before. Hadn’t planned to, ever. But after a week of looking for work and finding absolutely nothing, he was desperate. And desperation drove him to walk through the bank’s doors.

  “Yes, sir, I want to get a loan. It’s true I don’t have a job. But I do have collateral.”

  The banker adjusted his glasses on his nose. He perused the loan application in front of him, set down the papers, and took off his glasses. “I’ll be honest with you. There’s no possible way I can give you a loan.”

  Desperation turned to dread in the pit of Johnny’s stomach. “Why not?”

  “You won’t be able to make the payments.”

  “I’ll find work soon. I just need a small loan to get me by.”

  The banker paused and steepled his fingers together. “You’ve never applied for a loan before.”

  Johnny shook his head.

  “It’s not easy, especially in these times. It could take up to a month just to process the paperwork.”

  “A month?” Johnny sank back in the seat.

  “I’ve worked with the Amish before. I know you would have the best intentions of repayment. But I can’t in good conscience give a loan to someone without a means of income.” His sharp features seemed to soften a fraction. “I’m sorry.”

  Johnny composed himself. “I understand.” His words were thick. He stood and extended his hand. “Thanks.”

  “Wait a minute.” He motioned for Johnny to sit back down. “We’re not finished.”

  Johnny frowned as he returned to his seat.

  “Have you thought about procuring an investor? Someone who provides the money for you to grow your business? Of course that means sharing the profits as well.”

  Rubbing his chin, Johnny considered it. An investor. He’d still be beholden to someone, but it could just be a temporary arrangement until he got back on his feet.

  The banker opened the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out a white card. “My cousin lives in Akron. He’s always interested in new opportunities. The man has money to burn, so to speak.”

  “Must be nice.”

  For the first time, the banker smiled. “Give him a call.” He paused, holding the card in midair. “Or would you rather I call him for you, since you probably don’t use a phone?”

  “I have access to a phone.” Johnny took the card. James Wagner. No address, just a phone number and e-mail. A simple card, similar to the one Johnny would have used, if he had a business to advertise.

  “Good.” The banker extended his hand. “That’s about all the help I can give you. Sorry it’s not more.”

  “No, it’s fine. I appreciate it.” Johnny looked at him. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck. I hope it works out with you and James.”

  Johnny stood. He fingered the card before putting it in his pocket, feeling optimistic
for the first time since he bought his property. “I hope so too.”

  Katherine’s heart swelled as she held tiny Johanna in her arms. Mary Beth’s daughter’s delicate features mimicked her mother’s, but her blond hair came straight from her father. “She’s perfekt, Mary Beth.”

  Her friend smiled, a happy weariness forming at the corners of her brown eyes. She shifted in the recliner in the small living room. “Danki. And if I haven’t told you before, thank you for being there when she was born.”

  “I’m just happy everything turned out okay. We were really worried about you.” The image of Johnny and Chris praying in the barn came to her mind.

  “Mamm is a gut midwife. Daed said she would be, with five kinner and all.”

  Katherine held out her pinky to Johanna. The boppli’s tiny fingers gripped it.

  “I think Johanna likes her aenti,” Mary Beth said.

  “Oh, I hope so.” Katherine couldn’t take her eyes off the child. But just as she leaned to give Johanna a light kiss on the forehead, the baby started to cry. Katherine held her closer, whispered a few nonsensical words in her tiny ear, and brought the soft baby blanket closer around her small body. But Johanna’s cries grew louder.

  Mary Beth rose. “I’ll take her. She’s probably tired.” She took her daughter from Katherine’s arms and settled back in the chair, leaning Johanna’s head against her shoulder. Within a few minutes, the baby quieted.

  “A mudder’s touch.” Katherine smiled, ignoring the ache in her heart. Would she ever know the special bond of having a child of her own?

  “For now. But when the boppli’s hungry, she lets you know. She’s got a pair of lungs, that’s for certain.” Mary Beth patted her daughter’s tiny back. “Now, tell me about the world, since I’ve been cooped up for almost a month.”

  Katherine paused. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “There’s always something to tell. How is work?”