The Wedding Gift (Colorado Billionaires Book 7)

by Regina Duke

  He cringed inwardly. Not a nice way to talk about his father. He really didn’t want to lose his dad yet. His mother’s suicide had changed his life forever. All their lives.

  Memories of that awful week overwhelmed him as the Maserati’s engine purred in his ear. And the face that dominated every memory, strangely enough, was Lulamae Franklin’s. Surely his cousins would have some kind of information about her. They were all around the same age, although Thor and Ashley had two kids already. Was Lulamae involved in their children’s lives as well? Most likely. He frowned at his hands on the wheel. Lulamae hadn’t butted in when his cousin Axel’s mother died a few years ago. Or had she? He had a flash of memory, a Christmas at Aunt Polly's ranch in Texas. All the cousins were there, having a ball with Polly’s Doberman Pinschers, and lots of the Garrisons were there, including Uncle Rudy's brother, Lester, and his kids, Axel among them. Axel was actually his cousins’ cousin, but when you’re a kid, none of that matters. They were all cousins having a ball at Christmas. He remembered teasing them unmercifully for their New York accents, and they teased him back about sounding like a cast member from a western movie. At first, he took it hard. At one point, he ran into Polly's huge kitchen for comfort, hoping she’d make it all better with one of the iced cookies on the counter. But he stopped short and ducked behind the huge butcher block table when he heard his dad, his uncle, Lester, and Polly having words.

  The subject of their argument was Lulamae. He was too young to understand everything he heard, but he could feel the raw emotion, and it was clear that Lester had no use for his beloved godmother. That had shocked Clayton so much, he’d sneaked back outside without even stealing a cookie.

  He clenched his jaw. Time to find out. And the trip would placate his dad for a while. It would be an easy lie. “I’m going to Colorado to look for a bride. It seemed to work for Austin.” That should keep his father quiet for a few weeks. On second thought, he would call his dad after he got to Colorado. It would give Clayton time to figure out a way to inherit his mother’s fortune without ending his glorious bachelorhood. He was desperate and needed to figure out a way to get what was rightfully his. He needed that money. For one thing, creditors were hunting him down, trying to repossess his car. It wasn’t even the most expensive Maserati, but the payments were too much for what was left of his monthly allowance after his other expenses.

  One more little detail to tend to before he left. The engine purred as he steered the car around the tennis courts toward his father’s eight-car garage. He knew the two-year-old Mercedes sedan was just sitting there, waiting to be traded in for a new car. He moved calmly, drawing no attention to himself. After all, he still had a room in the big house, and he used it at least one week a month. That meant all his father’s hired help knew him well, and no would bat an eye if they saw him in the garage. He removed the protective tarp from the Mercedes. The keys were on their hook on the wall. He eased it out of the garage, then parked the Maserati in its spot and spread the tarp over the Italian masterpiece. No way would a repo team try breaking into his father’s garage.

  He smiled grimly as he programmed the Mercedes’ GPS for the trip. They’d never find his car here, and as for anyone else looking for him, they’d never find him in Colorado.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Mama, I asked you not to go to any trouble,” grumbled Kenzie.

  “Your room is the same as when you left for college. Keeping it clean was no trouble, not with you off at school.” Marigold Shane stomped up the steps of the farmhouse.

  “House needs painting,” said Kenzie. “I can help with that.”

  “Your father will be more than happy to put you to work.”

  The grayness of her mother’s hair shocked Kenzie. When she’d left for college, it had been brown, like her eyes. She followed her mother upstairs, her suitcase bumping behind her on every step, and noticed a slight gimp as Marigold climbed.

  “I’ll go take dinner out of the oven. You freshen up.”

  Kenzie hid a smile. Mom might be clutching the bannister these days, but she still sounded like the hardened country woman who used to frighten Kenzie’s girl friends. She opened the door to her old bedroom and stepped back in time to her childhood. Her mother had seemed thrilled to see her, standing there by the highway with her single suitcase, and even sounded grateful that she had returned. Kenzie had a bad feeling about that. Partly because she had exaggerated a bit about her successes after college. She rolled her suitcase into the closet, then stood at the second-floor window, looking out on the farmyard and the barn. How did they do it? Farm animals had to be fed and tended to, nonstop, year-round. Her high school friends would look at her with envious eyes and ask how many horses she had.

  None.

  Her father was supporting a family, and there was never enough money to allow for a useless hay burner. She could raise sheep and pigs for 4-H and Future Farmers of America, but there was no way he was going to support her girlish desire for a horse.

  She gazed down at the barnyard, dimly lit by a string of electric bulbs strung on poles here and there. Her father had spent the money to run electricity to the barn after one of her brothers stepped on a rusty nail while doing evening chores in the dark. They certainly couldn’t afford another medical bill like that one. The lights were justified as a preventative measure. Of course, that meant that the kids had had no excuses whatsoever for not doing their chores.

  Kenzie had spent her high school years dreaming of getting out of Eagle’s Toe. She wanted to get off the farm, do something high tech, something in engineering maybe. She wanted an education that would allow her to live in Denver, and maybe someday even New York City. She wanted to get as far away from cow manure and pigpens as she could possibly get.

  And here she was, back in her childhood bedroom, feeling like the biggest failure that ever lived.

  Her mother’s voice drifted up from the foot of the stairs. “Kenzie! Dinner is on the table. Don’t let it get cold!”

  She turned to drop her purse on the single bed she’d slept in practically her whole life and caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror. She inhaled sharply, then let her breath out in a fragile laugh. For a second she thought she’d seen her twelve-year-old self looking back at her. Not a good omen.

  But dinner smelled heavenly, and it didn’t take much persuading to move her down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “There you are.” Her mother smiled, wiping her hands on her gingham apron. Was it the same one she’d worn throughout Kenzie’s childhood? That couldn’t be right. But knowing her dad and his attitude about money, she knew in her heart it was probably true.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  Marigold averted her eyes. “He went to the Grange meeting. I asked him to skip it because I wanted us to have a little family dinner, like we used to do when all you kids were home, but he’s so wound up about all this talk of oil and he didn’t want to miss anything. You know John. If you smell dead fish, look out for the bear. He wants to keep an eye on those oil reps, and he wants to know if any of the other ranchers are signing leases.” She carried a covered casserole dish to the table. “Four-cheese macaroni, your favorite.”

  Kenzie was touched. “Thanks, Mom.” She sat down at her old place at the table. There it was again, that feeling of being twelve again. She shook it off as her mother poured iced tea into her glass. “I really appreciate you letting me come home for a while.”

  “Breakups are hard.” Marigold said it like a woman with experience, but Kenzie wondered how she could possibly know. Hadn’t she been married to her father forever?

  Kenzie had been frankly surprised when her father agreed with her mother that their daughter should move home. He’d never faltered in his duty as a parent, but Kenzie’d always had the feeling that he couldn’t wait for them to all get out of the house. Maybe he was worried they’d wind up living with their parents until they were thirty, like some of those families on TV.

  “Did it t
ake a lot of talking to get Dad to let me come?”

  Marigold’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, dear. As soon as he heard you had sold your house, he couldn’t wait for you to come home.” She put a hand to her mouth. “That didn’t sound quite right, did it? But it is true that we need your help on the farm. Your dad and I are getting older, and we just can’t seem to get ahead. He had such hope in his eyes when I told him you wanted to move back.” She dropped her eyes to her lap and said the blessing. “Lord, we thank you for this meal and for the blessing of having our Kenzie come home to help out. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  “Amen,” murmured Kenzie, feeling slightly awkward after being away five years. She would never tell her mother she hadn’t said a blessing in that whole time.

  Marigold lifted the lid off the casserole. A few chunks of sausage sizzled on top of the cheese and macaroni. The only other dishes on the table held home-grown snap beans and a sliced loaf of homemade bread. Marigold leaned across the table and said conspiratorially, “Save room. I made an apple pie!”

  Kenzie felt tears burn behind her eyes. Was it Thomas Wolfe who said you can’t go home again? In English Lit, she thought that was the dumbest thing she ever heard. Besides who would want to? But here at her mother’s table, she was flooded with a bittersweet understanding of what he was talking about. She had gone off to college and then settled in Denver with Todd, her bad-boy ex. The last thing she expected was that she would ever go home again. And now that she was here, her throat tightened with feeling as the full import of those literary words settled around her like a hair shirt. Her mother was exactly the same as she used to be, only older. But Kenzie herself had changed more than she’d realized. And when she looked at her mother now, acting like it was a huge secret that she’d made a pie, Kenzie’s heart ached. Six years ago, she couldn’t wait to move away, and now she wanted to put her arms around her mother and tell her she loved her. But that would be so out of character, and her mother was never one for overt displays of affection. Instead, Kenzie helped herself clumsily to a scoop of macaroni.

  “Don’t forget your vegetables,” Marigold crooned.

  Kenzie smiled and took a serving of snap beans. “So Dad is all in a dither about those oil company offers? I thought you said on the phone that one of the Garrisons had offered to help you find a way to avoid giving in to the oil people.”

  “I’d say dither is a mild way to put it. He’s just so worried about maybe losing the farm. And he was broken-hearted when none of you kids wanted to carry on.”

  Kenzie pushed her macaroni and cheese around on her plate. “Well, you may recall, Mom, that he never did much to make us feel a part of it all. We mostly felt like the hired help.”

  She realized a second too late that she’d said the wrong thing. Her mother dropped her gaze to her plate, and her voice regained the stern quality that gave all her pronouncements a steely finality.

  “Your father did everything he could to make a successful life for his children.”

  “Sorry,” said Kenzie meekly. She was in no position to start a fight with her mother. She needed a place to stay. At least for a while. “I know he always worked hard to provide for us all.”

  Her mother’s tension dissipated and her voice softened. “I’m so glad you can finally see that, dear. Of course I shouldn’t be surprised. You left here a scornful eighteen-year-old and here you come, all grown up and looking like you’ve learned some hurtful lessons along the way. You’re such a mature young lady now. And when your father realized you were coming home to help us save the farm… and maybe loan us some of the money you made on the sale of your house… I swear he had tears of joy in his eyes.”

  Kenzie froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Her appetite had vanished. The exaggerations she’d written in her letters home had grabbed her by the throat and threatened to choke the life right out of her.

  * * *

  The trip took over ten hours because Clayton realized he needed to eat and sleep now and then.

  His great-grandfather had made his fortune in railroads, but as soon as the winds of fortune changed direction, the next generation made sure to invest in a wide range of interests, not the least of which was land and oil in Texas. The Masters clan owned one major newspaper, three television networks, and—Clayton’s favorite— two diamond mines in Africa. More recently, his father had begun investing in precious metals in Latin America. Clayton had visited a couple of the mine sites there, and he’d learned Spanish with the plan of living there, but the threat of kidnapping for ransom had made him very nervous. He didn’t want to live like a prisoner in a cage, surrounded by armed guards everywhere he went. He’d finally talked his father into agreeing that the personal safety issues were not worth the risk. But he’d made sure he was highly useful to his dad by honing his language skills.

  One of his brothers had studied Chinese, and Clayton was glad that one hadn’t fallen to him. Not that he disliked the language, but the writing system felt overwhelming. Dallas loved it, though, and he was the family’s main rep in China.

  Clayton pulled into a diner in the northwest corner of Texas. Time to take a break. Did this mean he was getting old? Well, okay, older? His father was always saying it beat the alternative. But Clayton had barely begun to enjoy the finer things in life. And he loved turning all the female heads in every room he entered. Like now. The two waitresses saw him right away, and one of them let her mouth fall open at the sight of him. He’d heard his brother Austin refer to their cousin Thor as a Norse god once, and Clayton knew that description fit him as well.

  Another reason to leave Latin America. He stood out like a sore thumb.

  He picked a booth in the corner and slid into it, laying his phone on the table. He’d been watching the stock market app as he drove until he nearly ran head-on into a semi. Then he’d forced himself to shove his phone under his seat to keep from being tempted further. If he was so careless as to kill himself in a traffic accident, he would be one pissed off ghost. Or soul. Or whatever. After all, he had a rosy future ahead of him. Or he would have, as soon as he got control of his share of the family money.

  He smiled up at the waitress pouring his coffee. She practically drooled. Of course, the sight of his car parked outside had made an impression as well. “Thank you, Doris. Just bring me a burger and fries, please.”

  “You got it, honey. Y’all from around here?”

  Clayton answered vaguely, “Family’s down near Dallas.’

  “You're going the wrong way, sugar,” she teased.

  “I got a brother in Colorado,” he said. “There’s no escaping family.”

  Doris laughed. “Tell me about it. Cheese on that burger?”

  “Sure.” Clayton turned his attention to his phone. After a second or two Doris got the message and sashayed off toward the kitchen.

  While he waited for his burger, Clayton decided he should give Austin a heads up about his pending arrival.

  Austin Masters was not a Norse god. He’d been teased unmercifully in his teens for being a geek or a nerd or a dweeb. Whatever the word of the moment was. A counselor at their boarding school wanted him to be tested for autism, but his father put his foot down.

  “I’m paying through the nose for you to educate my kids and take care of them for a while, not label them with something that could affect the rest of their lives.”

  Clayton figured the counselor was probably right, Austin should have been tested, but he was already thirteen. By thirteen, what difference would it make? Austin was completely functional, but he was painfully shy, didn’t know a thing about combing his own hair, stuttered a bit when he talked, and earned every “geek” and “nerd” thrown his way, because he was a freaking genius. He fell in love with photography at school and never looked back. But what most people didn’t realize was that he was also a computer whiz, and he manipulated Photoshop like Van Cliburn manipulated piano keys. Clayton was convinced that Austin’s slight speech impediment was ca
used by a need to dumb down everything that came out of his mouth so regular mortals could understand him.

  If Austin weren’t married, Clayton would just show up on his doorstep. But he’d never met Erin. He was in Latin America when they got married. So he thought he’d better show some manners and not surprise a total stranger with an unannounced family visit.

  Before his burger arrived, he texted Austin and asked if there was a decent hotel in Eagle’s Toe. He also asked Austin to keep his visit quiet.

  By the time he finished his burger, Austin had replied. “Looking forward to seeing you. Made you a res at the Cattleman’s Inn under my name. Mum’s the word.”

  He grinned at the screen. Bless his little heart, Austin was the best secret-keeper ever. That talent had saved Clayton’s butt, literally, on several occasions when they were kids. In return, Clayton loved his little brother more than anyone else in the family.

  His phone vibrated. Crap. His father was looking for him. He thumbed through the settings and turned off the location. No, he did not want to share his current location. Or his next one. Or the next one after that. He hoped and prayed his father had not yet discovered Clayton’s automotive exchange. If he did, would he report the Mercedes as stolen? Clayton was sure his Aunt Polly would do exactly that, and they sprang from the same gene pool. But although Polly’s impulsive behaviors were fodder for family gossip, he didn’t really think his father would accuse him of stealing, especially since he’d left the Maserati as collateral. But it filled him with a sense of urgency. He had to get going.