Leath's Legacy

by Anne Ashby

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Anne Ashby

  Leath’s Legacy

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  If you enjoyed LEATH’S LEGACY, then you’ll want to read the soon-to-be-released WORLDS COLLIDE,

  Chapter One

  A word about the author...

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Name your price and I’ll match it.”

  Her eyes boggled and her eyebrows rose. Was he serious? Yes, it appeared he was, from the way he waved an agitated arm around.

  “Come on. Name it,” he snapped. “Everyone has their price. What’s yours?” His Machiavellian smirk conveyed his certainty.

  Frowning, Leath stared up at him. “You mean if we asked for, what, ten million dollars, you’d give it to us?” She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

  She didn’t believe for a moment he’d seriously consider that sort of amount and gasped when he replied almost immediately.

  “That’s your price, ten million?”

  “No, Mr. Buchanan, that’s not our price!” Leath feared he might reach for his cheque book. “That was just a stupid figure plucked out of the air. We’ve already given you our answer, twice.”

  Seeing a very slight slump in his shoulders and something odd in his expression, Leath softened the blow. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.” She even smiled up at him. “But it’s not going to change. We like the place.”

  “But you have to sell it to me!”

  Stepping back at the ferociousness in his voice, Leath bit her lip.

  “I have to have it.”

  His apparent desperation caused a sympathetic response from her. “I’m sorry.” She felt compelled to soften her voice. “We’re not selling.”

  “But you must.” He stretched out and would have grabbed her arms if she hadn’t stepped back once more. “It’s ours, and I mean to have it back.”

  Praise for Anne Ashby

  “THE CEO GETS HER MAN is an engrossing story with great characters and character development. Ms. Ashby is to be commended for an enjoyable and gripping read...I couldn’t put it down.”

  ~Shirley Wine, author

  ~*~

  “THE CEO GETS HER MAN is a very nice fairy tale. A workaholic CEO gets a lesson in humility at the hands of her teenage crush. Super fun and entertaining.”

  ~Brenda Gale, author of The Heart’s Desire Series

  ~*~

  “I really enjoyed WILDERNESS LIAISON...an excellent job of developing Shal and Jodie’s characters. I loved the description of the bush in New Zealand.”

  ~Crystal Job, Booksaresanity Reviews

  ~*~

  “TIME TO BURY THE PAST is a story that will stay with you long after the last page is read. I loved that the problems were so real to life...a beautifully written romance with plenty of conflict and emotion.”

  ~Alicia Dean, author of A Knight Before Christmas

  ~*~

  “...completely captivated with the story and characters in DEVON’S DREAM. They all seemed to come to life and I felt a connection with them.”

  ~Tifferz Book Reviews

  ~*~

  “[WORLDS APART] is addictive! There is just enough light humour to balance the serious aspects of the novel. All in all, a really great read!”

  ~Jane Eliot, Night Owl Reviews

  Leath’s Legacy

  by

  Anne Ashby

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Leath’s Legacy

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Anne Ashby

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Last Rose of Summer Edition, 2014

  Print ISBN 978-1-62830-646-0

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-647-7

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  Thanks to Leath,

  for “lending” me her beautiful name.

  Chapter One

  Leath Robson dropped into a booth at the swanky café on the Auckland viaduct. Her cotton-wool legs were still quaking. Her gaze absently followed her younger brother as he went to the counter and then back toward her with two coffees. He slipped into the seat opposite and she tried to mirror his lopsided smile, but her stiff cheeks refused to budge.

  “Not quite what we expected, was it?” Robby murmured. “Although I did tell you getting those solicitor’s letters might be a lucky break.”

  Glad of the coffee’s warmth as her hands clenched around the cup, Leath bent her head as she whispered, “I was so sure it was more of Dad’s debts coming to light.”

  “No way.”

  Leath couldn’t speak, couldn’t find words to navigate the quagmire where her brain used to be.

  “Wakey, wakey, sis. It’s about time something good happened, and maybe this is it.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Leath guessed despite his bravado he was equally staggered. “I’m telling you, quit worrying. You’ve worried yourself sick over Mum and Dad’s mess ever since the accident. We sold everything to square their debts. That’s over. They’re gone and their debts are gone. We don’t owe anyone anything, so forget it. It’s time to move on.”

  He reached across and clasped her hands, and the coffee cup, between his. “What were the chances of someone we’d never heard of leaving us stuff in her will?”

  His laugh is more than a little off key, Leath decided. “About a million to one. But who was she? We have no idea.”

  When the identical letters had arrived at their tiny flat, one for her and one for Robby, Leath’s heart had sunk. Expecting more of their father’s failed business ventures to have surfaced, Leath had reluctantly made the appointment to visit the solicitor.

  “Don’t expect me to know,” Robby scoffed. “You’ve got fifteen years on me.” He leaned across the small table again. “Are you sure you’ve never heard of her? You can’t remember Mum or Dad mentioning her?”

  Leath shook her head. “I was sure Mr. Ellis had the wrong Leath and Robert Robson.” Her eyebrows rose as she acknowledged the improbability of this, with her unusual Christian name. “I still can’t believe he had all that information about us. Someone must have given it to him.” She swallowed the lump threatening to choke her. “I mean she must have given it to him. But how did she know?”

  “How much do you reckon it’s worth?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Watching her hasty words shove him back into his seat, Leath grimaced. It wasn’t his fault her mind was spinning so far off its axis. She
wondered if it would ever right itself.

  “I’m sorry, Rob,” she apologised. “I just can’t take this in. It’s too mind-boggling. A house, land, and who knows how much money, once her life insurance is paid out.” Leath chewed on her bottom lip. “There must be some explanation, some connection. We—”

  “Who cares, Leath?” He shrugged. “Really, what does it matter? Whoever she was, she’s dead,” Robby argued. “The point is what’ll we do about this property?”

  Dragging her mind away from the puzzle of who their benefactor was Leath dug into her purse with numb fingers. Spreading the solicitor’s paperwork out on the table she studied it.

  “I don’t even know where it is. Have you ever heard of Greene Valley?”

  She shouldn’t have bothered; Robby was useless at geography, too.

  “What do you think we should do?” Leath knew what she wanted, but they were in this together. It had to be a joint decision. Sometimes it was difficult to remember not to treat Robby as a kid any longer.

  “I guess taking a road trip and checking it out would be the most sensible option.”

  Leath’s head shot up at his serious tone. She tried to joke, “My little brother being sensible? Wonders will never cease.”

  A shared grin reflected their close bond.

  “And what about this?” She smoothed out a second letter and twisted it around so he could read it again. Her breath stuck in her throat as she gnawed at the inside of her cheek, waiting.

  “I figure if this guy Buchanan is willing to offer this sort of money for thirty acres of what must surely only be farmland, we need to figure out why.”

  The air whooshed from her lungs. Robby had to realise what they might be turning down. “It’s an awful lot of money.”

  “Exactly, so why’s he demanding an immediate answer? He wants us to grab the money, sight unseen.” He rubbed his chin. “Makes you kinda wonder why, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does.”

  “So we’d better go and have a look then, hadn’t we?”

  Leath’s pulse rate quickened. “When?”

  “This weekend?”

  “Right. I’ll see if I can change some of my shifts.”

  “You want me to ring the solicitor to say this Buchanan guy can stick his money?”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Leath answered swiftly. “You get back to work.” Robby’s extended lunch break was well and truly over and a glance at his watch reminded them both he was tardy.

  Her brother could be very brusque in this sort of mood. She didn’t want to sever the possibility they might want to negotiate a sale with this man after they’d viewed their inheritance.

  Alone, sipping her cooled coffee, Leath re-read what little information the solicitor had given them, mulling over what sounded like a short real estate blurb. Modest three bedroom house, various outbuildings, ten acres in pasture, ten acres native bush with a caveat that it cannot be cleared attached.

  Leath frowned, skimming back through the letter. It definitely said thirty acres. In fact the land area was mentioned twice. Her frown deepened, ten and ten didn’t make thirty. What occupied the third ten acres? With their luck, probably swamp.

  A heavy sigh escaped as she bundled up the papers and slipped them into her purse. Maybe on Saturday they’d find answers.

  ****

  “Kirk, Kirk. There’s a reply from that solicitor.”

  Kirk Buchanan looked up from his computer screen with a fond smile as his mother bustled into the room he’d converted into an office.

  Taking the offered letter, he confidently tore it open only to have his gut clench as he read the bold two lines stating his offer had been declined. Clenching the paper in his fist, his face must have reflected his frustration, because his mother whimpered and sank into a chair.

  “Oh, what shall I do?” The wobble in her usually strong voice almost broke his heart.

  “I’ll offer more money, Mum.” Damn, what is the matter with these people? He’d already offered double, no, treble what the land was worth. He knelt beside her, his arm circling her drooped shoulders. “I can afford it. I’ll find out who inherited and approach them in person. Stop worrying, we’ll get back Dad’s home.”

  His mother seemed to gain strength from the certainty he injected into his voice. Her shoulders straightened and she patted his hand.

  “Thank you, Kirk, you’re a fine son. I don’t know what I’d do without you—”

  Kirk’s chest tightened as his mother’s voice broke. “You should have contacted me earlier. You didn’t need to keep pretending everything was okay.” He held her against his chest, his massaging hand easing the tension from her back—even as under his breath he muttered ominous threats against Penny’s benefactors. “I hate that you’ve been coping all alone. I should have been here with you long ago.”

  “Cade and Jenny were here.” She shook her head. “We understood you needed to get your business established.”

  Kirk wasn’t so sure his siblings understood. In the few weeks he’d been home, he hadn’t actually registered any resentment, but he was sure it was there lurking under the surface.

  The incessant weight of his father’s care had placed enormous stress on every member of the family, most particularly on his mother who insisted her husband wasn’t going into a nursing home. Kirk had had to come home. As much as country-living and the farm bored him silly, he had to give up the daily cut-and-thrust of big business in the city and come home. He had to ease his mother’s stress.

  Now he kissed her salt-and-pepper hair and spoke in a no-nonsense voice. “You’d carry on as you always have, Mum—marvellously.”

  A momentary twinkle showed in her eyes before she started gnawing her lip. “I can’t bear to think what might happen if your father wandered over and found someone different there. He remembers Penny, but someone new...someone Terry doesn’t know! He’d be so lost.”

  “Stop worrying, Mum.” Kirk’s lazy smile hid his racing thoughts as he prepared for an encounter with whoever had inherited Penny Maguire’s home—the home where his father had grown up and now, due to his debilitating illness, couldn’t understand was no longer his.

  A noise from outside drew his mother to her feet. She rushed to her husband as he fumbled with the lock on the garden gate. Kirk watched in awe as she talked for a moment, and soon, walking arm and arm, they turned and strolled across the garden.

  Sinking back into his seat, Kirk scrubbed his hand across his face. There was nothing anyone could do for his father. Although healthy and strong as an ox in body, Alzheimer’s was stealing his mind.

  Kirk closed his gritty eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He deserved any animosity his siblings felt. Unlike him, they had families of their own. They’d juggled those families and their very lives to help Mum for God knew how long.

  He sighed, guilt overcoming him yet again. How many years had they struggled before Cade had called and demanded he stop flitting around the world and come home?

  Jerking upright Kirk stalked to the window, watching his parents. At this distance no-one would guess anything was wrong. They looked just like any other retired couple enjoying the delights of their garden. Seeing the love on his mother’s face as she chatted with her often-robotic husband, Kirk knew he’d do anything to abide by her wish Terry remain right here on the land he loved.

  ****

  “How much further?” Robby strained against his seatbelt trying to see around the next corner.

  “Must be coming up. According to the odometer and this map, we’ll be in the next town soon.”

  “There wasn’t anything about it being on the coast, was there? Maybe it’s near a beach, that’d be pretty sweet. Wonder if it’s good surf.”

  They’d grabbed breakfast before daylight and hit the road just over two hours ago. With sleeping bags in the back seat of Leath’s old car, they intended spending the weekend on their new property. Excited anticipation filled them with a joy sadly lacking over the
last two money-strapped years.

  Trying to contain the thrill, growing at an increasing rate since they turned off the main road and drew closer to their new property, Leath whispered those incredible words to herself again, their property. Words she’d feared would never apply to her and Robby again.

  Selling their family home and almost everything else to pay the debts left by their parents had hurt so much. The loss, along with all her savings, had taken any lustre from their lives as they struggled to survive. They’d managed. But they’d had to live very frugally.

  Now things were about to change. Their new property was going to alter everything. Leath just knew it.

  She’d spent a bewildering week. Visiting the month-old grave of Penelope Grace Maguire hadn’t helped. Nor had calling upon the solicitor again been of any benefit, as he either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer her questions.

  None of the million scenarios flashing through her mind all week had given relief. Nowhere could she find any hint of who Penelope Grace Maguire was, or how she was connected to Leath and Robby.

  Swinging the car around yet another bend on the windy road, Leath chewed her lip. While she was more excited than she recalled ever being in her life, this was difficult—so very difficult—to accept their good fortune without worrying how it had come about. While the mystery remained, so did Leath’s niggling fear this good fortune might blow up in their faces.

  Numerous times Robby had suggested they could check for clues amongst Penny Maguire’s personal affects. There must be something in her house, surely? Some clue at least. Leath had to believe they’d find something. Anything. Her dreams had become filled with disturbing pictures she now worried might be actual memories.

  “Stop!”

  Leath slammed on the brakes. With a hasty check for traffic—they hadn’t seen one vehicle in the last fifteen minutes—she pulled onto the gravel shoulder.

  “Do you think that could be it?”

  Their position was elevated above a small, picturesque cove, where blue water lapped against almost-white sand. Shifting her gaze from the natural beauty, Leath’s shoulders slumped. She understood the misgiving in her brother’s voice. Half a dozen tin roofs were barely visible amidst a jungle of vegetation.