Valley of Stars (The Merriams Book 3)

by Ava Miles

  Her mother had taken one look at her and insisted she stay in bed for the immediate future. “No arguments, missy,” her mom had said.

  Now she could at least whisper, but it was still pissing her off not to be heard. She’d shared her story, pausing occasionally to bolster her voice with a healthy sip of juice, and her parents’ faces had turned ashen as she’d progressed. None of her siblings had asked her anything. She was sure her mother had insisted they hear her out without asking questions, especially about the ruby ring she was still wearing. Of course, they wouldn’t necessarily know it was that kind of a ring. She’d decided to wear it on her right hand until she and Boyd made up and he asked her for real. It seemed more honest that way. What Connor had said about her engagement ring still haunted her.

  But what haunted her most was how reasonable and resolute he’d seemed about letting her go.

  Of course, it was Connor’s right to ban anyone at Merriam from working with Boyd. That was one thing, but he didn’t speak for the family. He couldn’t ban Clara, nor could he ban her. Surrounded as she was with her family, Michaela didn’t believe she was in danger of being cast off. But she and Boyd clearly still had serious obstacles to work through.

  “Mickey,” her mom said, pressing yet another glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice into her hands, “isn’t it wonderful Trevor could come visit?” Her brother had arrived this morning from Ireland.

  “Yeah, thanks Trev,” she rasped. “I know you hate leaving Becca.”

  His full smile looked just a little forced—everyone clustering around her was wearing the same annoying candy-striper smile. “We all dropped everything the moment Connor told us you’d almost died from some tropical fever. Becca would have come, but she’s still working with her therapist on traveling beyond our land. The other day, we walked to the edge of the sea on the cliffs. I was so happy, I offered to share my champagne with Buttercup.”

  She was glad to hear Becca’s therapy was helping. “Can an alpaca drink champagne?”

  “Only if it’s Dom Perignon,” her brother, Flynn, joked from the edge of the bed. “I mean, you shouldn’t treat any woman—even a llama—to anything but the best.”

  They launched into light conversation, everyone pitching in with a joke here or there. She knew what they were doing, but cheering her up could only go so far. The only person not pretending to be a candy striper was her brother, Quinn. He was sitting in the corner of her old room, brooding like he’d swallowed all the fog in London on his airplane ride over. He’d flown in last night and had tried to talk to Connor after other efforts had failed.

  The two brothers usually saw eye to eye, even when no one else agreed with them. But she had a feeling Quinn wasn’t totally on board this time. Maybe because he was vice president of the company. Maybe because Connor wouldn’t talk to him either. He’d held a firm line: I’m CEO of Merriam Enterprises. I did what I thought was best, and I won’t answer to anyone.

  Technically, that wasn’t true. He reported to the board, but this was the second time he’d invoked unilateral powers in the months since Corey’s death. The first time, he’d attempted to change the company’s policy on off-shore drilling without running it by anyone.

  “Has anyone heard from Aunt Clara or Uncle Arthur?” she asked in a breathy whisper, cutting into a punchy conversation about nothing. Everyone turned to look at her, their peppy smiles slipping like a tiara on a drunken beauty queen. “J.T., you and Caroline live in the same town. Surely, someone has heard something.” They would have had to travel back down that horrible river, a thought that made her sweat bullets. Why hadn’t she insisted Connor send back the helicopter for them? Oh, right, because he’d pretty much created an international incident with it.

  Her father steepled his hands. “Clara called me the moment they got to a phone to talk about what had transpired, saying she was gravely distressed by everything. I believe her. We all feel that way. She and Arthur are coming here straight away once they reach Nairobi.”

  Thank God! She put her hand to her throat. “They made it back safely then?”

  “Seems so,” her dad said, glancing over at her mom, who was giving him a pointed look. “Now, who wants to—”

  “No!” She may have lost her voice, but that didn’t mean she was going to allow everyone to ignore her. “We are not moving on. We need to talk about this. Is Boyd coming with them?”

  Her parents shared that look they’d perfected—the couple-who-reads-each-other’s-thoughts one—before her dad answered, “Clara said he would be. Are you upset about Boyd being chosen to work on the flower? We haven’t wanted to press you, but you told your mother and me that he’d let you go…yet you have an engagement ring on your finger.” She looked down at her right hand as he said it. “Yes, I know it’s not on that finger,” he continued, “but we weren’t born yesterday.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Caitlyn said, “if she wants us to stop treating her with kid gloves, we will.”

  “Her health—”

  “Mom, I’m almost a hundred percent.”

  “Your voice is shot, and your clothes are hanging on you like a scarecrow,” her mother responded. “We’re only trying to look after you. You scared us, Mickey.”

  Everyone looked on the verge of tears, although some of her tough-guy brothers coughed to cover their emotions. Quinn’s jaw even started ticking, reminding her that Connor had said the same thing in his own way. Yes, he’d taken things way too far, but she genuinely believed he’d done it out of worry.

  “I know.” She pushed aside the rose and cream quilt her Grandma Anna had made when she was a baby. “It scared me too. But we have a huge problem on our hands and that scares me more. I’m afraid of losing Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur over this.” She didn’t want to talk about Boyd yet.

  Her dad took her hand. “We won’t let that happen.”

  “And Connor is…not himself.” She levered herself up higher on the pillows, making everyone lunge to help her. “Stop. I’m not a baby. I might sound like a frog, but… Listen, the fact that Connor’s not talking to anyone is really scary. He hasn’t been right since Corey’s death. After the to-do he caused in Ireland over Becca’s land, I thought this was behind us. But he doesn’t seem to be doing any better. In fact, I’d say he’s worse. He’s not sleeping, and he’s making bad decisions.” Weren’t mercenaries a red flag? Yes, but the red flags had started way before that.

  Her dad tapped his knee in an uncharacteristic nervous gesture. “His grief and survivor’s guilt are leading him to make some…irrational decisions about how to handle business.”

  Quinn stood. “I don’t like talking about him like this. We haven’t heard Connor’s side of the story. Now, I’m not saying Michaela is wrong, but I can see why he was worried. After hearing from some stranger that the sat phone had fallen into the river, I would have been deeply concerned too. Especially since some warrior banned Iggie from finding them.”

  “But Boyd called,” Michaela protested. “When did you talk to Iggie?”

  “Yesterday,” he said, unsmiling. “He presents quite a tale.”

  “He was horrible, Quinn, to everyone!” Michaela said, her voice straining. “Even Hargreaves.”

  “Add in Boyd bribing a Customs official to detain a Merriam employee, and I would have feared the worst too,” he finished, not acknowledging her comment.

  “Boyd didn’t mean any harm,” Michaela said, extending her hand.

  “Bullshit,” Quinn shot back. “Your trip was a cluster—. Sorry, Mom. FUBAR.”

  “That’s no excuse to hire a bunch of mercenaries,” Trevor said flatly. “J.T. and I worked for Merriam Oil & Gas in countries torn apart by major conflict and we never once resorted to that. Protection, yes, not thugs to terrorize local people.”

  She appreciated that Trevor hadn’t gone out of his way to bash Boyd. She hoped Aunt Clara had also helped Boyd’s actions look less scurrilous to her family. Because they needed to embrace him again
if he and Michaela were going to make up and get married—she was holding on to that vision despite their current circumstances.

  Quinn shook his head. “Trev, we don’t know they were mercenaries. They might have been a protection detail. Didn’t your guards in Angola or Nigeria carry machine guns?”

  J.T. rose and unbuttoned his suit jacket. “They did, but Trev’s right. They knew not to threaten locals. That’s way beyond the pale.”

  “A Maasai warrior barred Iggie from searching for you,” Quinn said. “Then a bunch of warriors surrounded a Merriam helicopter and pointed spears at our employees, Connor included. That sounds hostile to me.”

  “Of course the tribe would react like that,” Michaela said. “No one enters their land without permission, and they felt threatened, especially after hearing about Connor and Iggie showing up with such force in other villages.” She still didn’t know how many villages Iggie had visited alone, and at this point, she wasn’t sure it mattered. Connor had gone along with it in the end.

  “Michaela, you’re stressing your voice,” her mom said. “Drink your juice.”

  “But I want to talk about this.”

  “Well, I’m going to suggest we table this discussion for the time being,” her dad said, standing up. “Quinn, I don’t like talking about these matters without Connor here either, but he’s chosen to take that stance. Mickey, here, is rightfully concerned. She was there, and I have to say, Iggie doesn’t sound very professional. Now, I’m retired, happily so, and I haven’t wanted to stick my nose into company affairs. I’ve wanted to give all of you an opportunity to run things on your own.”

  “Your father and I agreed that was for the best,” her mother said, “but we’re not so sure this time. There’s no doubt someone needs to reach Connor—both professionally and personally—and right now, your father and I aren’t sure we want to put that on you children.”

  “I’m the VP of Merriam Enterprises,” Quinn said, his baritone voice unrelenting. “I know we’re family, but this is a business matter. The rules are very clear. If we’re concerned about Connor’s behavior, the board is obligated to call him in to explain any incident or behavior it deems unbecoming. Anyone on the board can call a meeting with enough votes. Since we’re here—”

  “Now wait just a moment!” Flynn flew off the bed. “This isn’t a conference room—”

  “But there are procedures in place for this kind of thing,” Quinn interrupted. “I don’t want to go behind Connor’s back. We do this the right way.”

  “But he’s our brother,” Caitlyn said, taking her fiancé’s hand. “I don’t want to handle it like this.”

  “Do you think I do?” Quinn nearly shouted.

  Michaela started shivering, and her mother put another infernal blanket on her.

  “How about this then?” their father asked. “Quinn, you email Con and tell him that we’d like to talk about what happened sometime in the next two days. If he remains unavailable, the board will have no choice but to vote on calling him in to explain his actions. This way he fully knows what his options are. He must understand ignoring this situation is unacceptable.”

  Silence filled the room. Flynn stalked over to the window. J.T. was looking down at his shoes. Trevor’s jaw clenched. And Caitlyn had tears pouring down her cheeks. Michaela clutched the blanket as she looked up at all of them. She hated that she’d played a role in all of this, especially since Connor was suffering. She was still mad at him for what he’d done, but she loved him. He was her big brother. She’d always looked up to him.

  “I think it’s the fairest way,” Trevor said finally, “although, Christ Almighty, I hope he chooses the easy way and talks to us privately. Going to the board—”

  “Puts us on a track we can’t walk away from,” Quinn said heavily. “We’ve always recorded the proceedings, and I’d hate for anything damning to be on record about Con. He can get through this. I know he can.”

  “I’ll go by his office again,” Caitlyn said, brushing at her tears. “Did anyone check in with his assistant today? Do we know if he’s still there?”

  “He hasn’t left,” Flynn said, kicking the baseboard. “Sorry, but I’m… I pulled the security feed from reception.”

  “I hate to ask this,” Trevor said, “but are we sure he’s okay?”

  Michaela’s gasp had her throat burning. He wasn’t that bad, was he? Suicide was something she hadn’t even considered.

  “He’s meeting with his staff regularly,” Quinn said. “I checked. Going forward with business like usual.”

  “Like nothing happened,” Michaela rasped, her heart breaking. Oh, Connor.

  “All right, everyone,” her mother said, shooting out of her chair. “Michaela is going to take a nap now. So out. And no talking.”

  Even her groan was whisper-soft. Pathetic.

  Her mom started shooing people out of the room, and no one protested, dammit. A nap! She was a twenty-seven-year-old woman—she didn’t need another nap. All she’d do was lie here alone, her mind racing over events, wondering what in the world she should do about everything, with Boyd at the top of the list.

  “Daddy,” she called since he was the last person leaving the room.

  He turned. “Should I close the curtains, Mickey? Usually you love to sleep in the sunlight.”

  “Will you sit a minute?”

  He grimaced. “Your mother will kill me, but maybe she won’t notice if we’re quick.”

  She hadn’t had a moment alone with him since arriving, what with her mother fussing over her. “Did Boyd really ask your permission to marry me, and if he did, why didn’t you tell me when we broke up? I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. Maybe it would have helped.”

  He sat on the bed beside her. “You were madder than I’ve ever seen you. Even if Boyd hadn’t asked me to keep it quiet, I might have decided it was best not to get involved. This was before I turned over my new leaf and decided I wanted to get involved in everything that concerned you kids. I’m sorry if you think I let you down.”

  She worried her lip a moment. “Thanks, Dad. It helps to hear that. I’m scared about Boyd. He just let me go. And Con didn’t help matters, decreeing no one at Merriam would ever work with him again. He said he’d ruin him.”

  “We won’t let that happen, Mickey,” her dad said. “It’s not how we do business, even if he weren’t important to you.”

  “Con threatened to exile Aunt Clara, and it scared me. Boyd too, I think.” How must her aunt be feeling now?

  “Another thing we won’t let happen.” Her dad’s jaw clenched. “Of course, your mother pointed out some of Connor’s…ahem…overreaction doesn’t fall far from the tree. Didn’t I let forty years go without reaching out to my sister? God, I regret that, but I promise you this: Clara is in this family forever.”

  Tears filled her eyes unexpectedly.

  “Don’t cry, honey,” her dad said, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I know it seems bad, but we’ll fix things.”

  Honey? He’d never called her that.

  “Boyd’s pride got hurt too.” Just thinking about it made her heart ache. “Connor even made fun of the ring he gave me. He called it a dime-store ring.”

  “But it’s perfect for you,” her dad said, lifting her hand and gazing at it. “I told Boyd the same thing when I asked to see it. You wouldn’t want anything flashy, but that ruby has fire, just like you. He said he hoped you’d feel that way but he also hoped to buy you a more expensive one later on. I told him you didn’t care about such things, but I couldn’t blame him for wanting to give you and those he loves more. Did he tell you he plans to buy his mom a house? I have to admit, I admire the boy and understand where he’s coming from. I feel the same way about taking care of your mother and all of you kids.”

  “Oh, Daddy, I miss him so much,” she said, more tears leaking out.

  He squeezed her hand a moment, his gaze steady. “Of course you do, Mickey. You love him.”


  Yes, she did, but her confusion was overwhelming right now. “I don’t know how to make this right for everyone,” she said, turning the ring on her finger. “There’s my job and Connor and Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur to consider.”

  “You don’t have to make this right for everyone, Mickey. Only you and Boyd.” He tucked the cover over her. “You’re still exhausted from your ordeal. Once you’re better and rested, you’ll figure out what to do. I have faith in you. In the meantime, how about you let your dad do some thinking himself? Would you trust me to be your partner in getting Boyd back?”

  Emotion clogged her strained throat. “I’d love your help, Dad. I’m also hoping Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur will be able to help too. I wish you could have seen her in the village. She looked like she’d found something she’d been searching for her entire life.”

  Her dad pressed her softly back into the pillow. “I’m glad for her. She hasn’t had a very fulfilling or happy life until now. Sounds like she’s making up for lost time. Now, you go to sleep. We’ll be around when you wake.”

  She was feeling tired. Didn’t mean she liked it. “Fine. I’m going to sleep.”

  He kissed her sweetly on the hair, a gesture so rare she had to close her eyes to prevent her tears from falling. “I love you, Mickey. Trust me, we’ll make this right.”

  As he left the room, she promised herself she would remember this moment forever. It was the first time her father had ever told her he’d take care of things for her, and even at her age, somehow it was a comfort.

  Wasn’t that love for you?

  Chapter 26

  Arthur had his matchmaking hat on again.

  He and Clara and had agreed Boyd and Michaela needed to reconcile. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  Right now, it felt like someone had stomped his hat in the dust on the savannah, sure, but it still fit.

  The flower was a marvel, and he had no doubt Boyd was the perfect person to help introduce it to the world, but Life Giver still wasn’t worth losing the love of a lifetime. He and Clara had arranged for a get-together with Shawn and Assumpta to fix anything Connor’s foolhardiness might have broken. But Arthur had gotten to thinking it would be good to include Boyd, and Clara had agreed.