by Regina Duke
“Dad’s still feeling poorly?” She set her bag on the floor and retrieved mugs from the dish drainer.
Marigold filled them with coffee. “He says he’s doing better. He didn’t bite my head off about anything this morning. But I ordered him to stay in bed one more day. You don’t mind, do you?”
“What? You mean the chores? No, of course not.”
“You off work today?”
“Yes.” She stirred sugar in her coffee. “Clayton is going to pick me up and….” She let it hang in the air. Did she really want to tell her mother they were going to see a lawyer?
“And?” prompted Marigold.
Kenzie thought fast. “And help me figure out a way to get us some transportation.”
Marigold seemed pleased. “That would be nice. Did you get paid yesterday?”
“No, but I got a little advance on my wages. I didn’t realize I’d have to wait another week to get paid for this one.”
“I should have warned you. That’s pretty common.”
“Waitressing lets you take home tips every night,” said Kenzie.
“I am amazed that you made enough to get a loan on a house.”
Kenzie froze. Then she shrugged. “Some patrons are really generous.”
“Even so, most young people can’t get a loan for something like that with less than a year of waitressing behind them.” Her tone was conversational, so Kenzie relaxed. Mom was probably trying to think of something other than Dad’s health to talk about.
“Just lucky, I guess,” said Kenzie. Then she rushed on. “I think we should plan on adding livestock in the spring. And Mrs. McAvoy wants to know if you’re going to continue with your organic gardening. She says there’s a growing demand for organic.” Since Marigold showed no sign of starting breakfast, Kenzie got up and retrieved half a loaf of homemade bread from the breadbox and began cutting generous slices. “I can help you get that garden going again. I did a whole class at school on organic gardening and such.” She returned to the table with butter and a knife and spread some on her slice of bread.
Marigold cupped her mug with both hands. “That’s nice of her. She paid me way more than they were worth.”
“That’s the trick, Mom. People pay more for clean, organic food. We’ll talk about that later, okay?”
Marigold seemed to perk up. “All right. Yes. We can plan around what she needs most. Ask her for input when you’re in town.”
Kenzie smiled. Somehow, grasping at straws, she had landed on a topic that lightened her mother’s mood. She ate her bread and butter and sipped her coffee. The sound of footsteps upstairs made her mother jump, and a moment later, she was alone. Her phone vibrated. She closed her eyes and prayed it was Clayton.
Her prayer was answered. He texted, “On my way. We see Hutch at 10.”
It would take him about twenty minutes to get to her, so she enjoyed her coffee and wondered what all the bumping around was upstairs. The minutes ticked by and she tried to construct a scenario in her head. Mom was helping Dad get dressed? Or maybe he’d stumbled against the nightstand? One particularly loud bang sent her to the bottom of the stairs. “Mom? Are you okay?”
Marigold’s voice drifted down. “I’m fine. I accidentally slammed a door.”
Hmmm. That didn’t sound like her mom. Slamming doors was more Kenzie’s style, or it was when she was a teenager. Maybe she was more like her mother than she thought. “Okay,” she called up. “Clayton is on his way. I’ll be back in plenty of time for chores.”
No answer. Kenzie took that as an okay, and she returned to the kitchen to fetch her bag. Before she headed out to the porch to wait for Clayton, she looked for a place to put the money. For some reason, she wanted her mother to find it, not her dad. Then it came to her. The one place her dad never really dug around in was the refrigerator. That was her mother’s domain. She supposed if he started messing around in the fridge, Mom might think he was capable of making his own sandwiches. She suppressed a grin as she opened the refrigerator door.
The shelves were nearly empty. Marigold hadn’t been doing much cooking that week. But Kenzie found a half gallon of orange juice and a leftover bowl of lima beans. She tucked the bundle of money with her note behind the orange juice, and made a mental note to stop at a grocery store before she returned from town.
* * *
Clayton woke up at the first light of dawn, filled with anticipation. He was going to see Kenzie today, and the memory of the night before made his skin tingle as if he were hooked up to an electric current. He showered and dressed, wondering what his father would think of him getting up so early. He was the “playboy” and the “ne’er-do-well” in his father’s mind. Such stereotypes made it impossible for him to explain to his dad what he was doing with his ten thousand a month.
He spent ten minutes trying to figure out the in-room coffee maker, then ordered breakfast sent up. He sat at the little table by the window and counted the cash he had left. Three thousand two hundred. He’d covered his hotel bill and spent money on meals and gas and porcelain figurines and roses from the Cattleman’s florist. The corners of his mouth turned up. The figurines had come from Ashley Garrison’s art gallery. He decided he would take Kenzie there today and let her pick out another one. Or anything else she wanted. And there was that other bit of business he had planned. But first, he had to call Ryan Hutch.
By the time he finished his breakfast, it was nine o’clock. He dialed the number and was greeted by a pleasant feminine voice.
“Ryan Hutch, Attorney at Law. Jasmine speaking. What can I do for you?”
“Hello. I’m hoping I can make an appointment for today. Name is Clayton Masters. I’m from out of town.”
“Oh, you’re Austin’s brother, right?”
Clayton was taken aback. “Um, yes. How did you know?”
“Austin and Erin came to our wedding, and we went to theirs. And Austin runs all his business arrangements through Ryan. Is ten o’clock okay? We want to go to the movies this afternoon.”
Clayton chuckled. “This really is a small town. Sure, ten o’clock is perfect.” He made sure he knew where he was going, then hung up and texted Kenzie.
He skipped The Muffin Man. He would take her to lunch after talking to Hutch. He also felt a growing concern about the money they’d buried in the slag heap. He knew it was probably ill-gotten gains, but the idea of someone else finding it and removing it made him feel like they’d be robbing Kenzie. Could he chance asking the lawyer about that?
He muttered in disgust, “Of course, you dingbat. That’s what lawyers are for.” Then he made another call. “Morning, Thor!”
“Clayton? Isn’t this a little early for you? I seem to remember you never getting up before noon on a weekend.”
“Times change,” said Clayton, adding silently, I never had a gorgeous woman waiting for me back then. “Any news on that bad boy, Todd?”
“Give me a little time, man. We just talked at midnight. I should know more tomorrow. I’ll fill you in then.”
“At the barbecue?”
“Sure. We’ll pull a manly escape act for a few minutes. Besides, my mother will want to interrogate your friend Kenzie.”
Knowing Polly, Clayton figured Thor had used the right word. “Okay. I’ll try to be patient. See you then.”
He hung up and focused on driving. Kenzie was waiting for him on her front porch. She looked amazing in faded jeans, black flats, and a red sweatshirt, layered over something pink. She didn’t even wait for him to come to a full stop. She scampered down the stairs and opened the door, tossing her leather bag on the floor.
“Good morning.” Her voice was sweet, and she had a lovely smile for him.
Clayton was momentarily struck dumb by the joy he felt in her presence. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Anything wrong?” asked Kenzie.
He cleared his throat. “I was just wondering if our good-night kisses meant a good-morning kiss was in order.”
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She laughed softly, leaned toward him, and kissed him gently on the lips. Her voice was huskier when she repeated, “Good morning.”
Clayton was on Cloud Nine. “It is now.” He grinned and turned the car around.
Ryan Hutch’s law office was on the south side of the same block where Thor Security was housed. The old brick façade with the shiny brass nameplate projected a sense of class and gravitas, both of which set Clayton’s mind at ease.
The young woman behind the desk was dressed for business, and a thick, plush carpet made Clayton feel that not even the walls would hear his secrets.
“Good morning,” she said. “You must be Clayton.” She stood up and extended a hand. “I’m Jasmine. I’ll let Mr. Hutch know you’re here.” She paused, and a flash of recognition lit up her face. “Kenzie? Is that you? I heard you were back in town. Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you!” She rushed forward and gave Kenzie a warm hug.
Clayton cocked his head to one side. “Old friends?”
“And classmates,” said Kenzie, hugging Jasmine in return. “Sorry I haven’t called, Jazz. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I hope we can get together after—well, after your husband cleans up this mess for me.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious,” said Jasmine. She led the way to Ryan’s office door and knocked softly. “Ryan? Clayton Masters is here. And this is Mackenzie Shane, the greatest athlete our high school ever produced.”
Clayton saw a blush creep up on Kenzie as Ryan waved them inside. Mrs. McAvoy had described him to a T—dark blond hair, six foot three, blue eyes, and a superbly tailored suit. Clayton and Kenzie took the chairs he indicated. “May I offer you coffee or tea? Or Perrier?”
Clayton said, “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Kenzie added, “I just finished breakfast. But thank you anyway.”
Ryan leaned back in his padded leather chair and looked from one to the other. “Now that we’ve met, and I’ve offered hospitality, what can I do for you?”
Clayton and Kenzie exchanged glances, but neither one spoke. Clayton wanted to explain the entire situation, but he thought Kenzie should present the story in the way that made her most comfortable. However, after a few seconds, Clayton realized that the only way Kenzie would be comfortable was by not talking at all.
Ryan broke the silence. “Why don’t you start by telling me which of you is my client?”
Kenzie reached into her pocket and pulled out the hundred dollar bill that Taylor had given her the day before. She laid it flat on Ryan’s desk and said, “I’m the one who’s in trouble, so I think you should take my hundred as a retainer. I’m the one who really needs you. Clayton has done nothing except try to help me.”
Clayton pulled out a hundred of his own, laid it next to hers, and said, “I am in this as deep as it gets. I don’t want Kenzie facing it alone. She’s had a rough time and there may be some trouble ahead for her, but I’m not leaving her side.”
He was delighted when Kenzie turned to him, smiling warmly.
Hutch pulled the bills to the middle of his desk and set a paperweight on them. “Well,” he said, “that’s a beginning. Now, what’s going on?”
Kenzie began, “We found some money. And we want to know if it’s okay to spend it.”
Clayton’s eyebrows shot up. He held up a finger. “Just a second,” he said, “I think we should go back to the beginning, don’t you?”
Kenzie dropped her gaze to her hands and began to fidget. “I didn’t want to tell him all about my bad choices.”
Clayton said, “We both agreed that you need a lawyer, and maybe I do, too. The whole point of having a lawyer is being able to talk about your bad choices and know that your lawyer won’t tell anyone.”
Kenzie said, “I know you’re right, but I just feel so stupid.”
Ryan interrupted. “Let’s start with the money. Where did you find it?”
Kenzie replied, “At the bottom of the old quarry.”
Clayton added, “In the trunk of a wrecked car.”
Ryan frowned as he pulled a yellow legal pad out of his drawer and began to take notes. “Not that it matters to me,” he said, “but what were you doing in the old quarry? Necking?”
Kenzie blushed and said, “We were looking for something.”
Ryan asked, “The money?”
Clayton said, “Not exactly. We weren’t sure what we would find. Kenzie felt she had to go look, and I went with her. I’ve been driving her back and forth from work since her father’s old truck died.” He took Kenzie’s hand and added, “I wanted to go with her. I’m really fond of her. And when I found out that she might be in trouble, I swore to myself that I would help her find a way out of it.”
Ryan nodded. “Noble and admirable.” He tapped his pen against the notepad. He focused on Kenzie. “Clayton said you felt that you had to go look for something. What inspired you to do that?”
Kenzie flashed a look at Clayton, and he squeezed her hand. She nodded ever so slightly and responded to Ryan’s question. “I have an ex-boyfriend. He was never the kind of boy you would bring home to meet your parents. I was in my senior year of college, and I just had no idea what to do after graduation. I met him at a party. A frat party. It was months before I realized he’d never belonged to the fraternity. He had just crashed the party. Black jacket, leather pants, great big motorcycle. Lots of thick, curly black hair. And he had a sneer. You know, the kind that says, ‘I don't care what your parents think of me.’ Exactly what I thought I wanted.”
Clayton covered his mouth with his free hand to hide a grin.
Kenzie shot him an irritated glance, but then had to smile herself. “I know it sounds stupid and young and dumb and all those other things,” she said. “But when I left Eagle’s Toe, I sort of screamed at my parents that I would never be back. So if I did come back I would have to eat those words. At the time I met Todd — Todd Wilson — he seemed like a reasonable alternative to crawling back home. But I was wrong.”
Ryan nodded again. “Don’t worry, Kenzie. We’ve all made silly mistakes in our lives. So you had an ex-boyfriend who turned out to be different than you expected?”
Kenzie laughed weakly. “You might say that. He turned out to be an absolute disaster. He always seemed to have pocket money, but he never seemed to actually pay for much. Looking back, I think it was an act. After what we found in the quarry, he obviously had tons. I went to work as a waitress, and I told him that I wanted to buy a house someday. Until then, we would have to rent a place. A few days later, he told me he had found us a house. I was over the moon. At that point, I still totally trusted him. All our belongings fit into suitcases. We managed to get them on the bike with us, and the next thing you know he's parking behind an old house in the historic part of Denver. We had to go in the back door and he was telling me the whole time it was a fixer-upper. That eventually we would get it all fixed up, but the first few months might be a little rough.”
Ryan stopped her. “Did he tell you he had bought the house?”
“No.” She paused, trying to remember. “I don’t think he ever said that right out loud. He just let me believe that he had a right to be there. He didn’t show me any documentation. And when I asked to see some later, he got angry and threw a temper tantrum. So I stopped asking. Looking back, I guess about two months ago I finally realized that we were squatting in that house.” She shook her head sadly. “Every now and then, we had to take all our things out and go stay somewhere else for a day or two. Usually we camped out. After a while, he would take us back, and we would install ourselves there again. When I wasn’t working, I tried to fix the place up. The big giveaway for me was when I tried to put curtains in the front windows. He threw a fit and tore them down. Then he took a hammer and replaced the plywood covering the windows, all the time yelling at me that I was not allowed to touch anything in the house. It was like living in a dumpster. I managed to get one room looking good enough and clean enough to sleep in. But he wouldn’t let me tou
ch anything else.”
Ryan looked up from his notepad. “Where does the money come in?”
Clayton was watching Kenzie as she spoke. Now she turned to him, pleading silently for help. He took up the narration as best he could. “Apparently Todd was having a love affair with a classic Mustang. He was refinishing it. Rebuilding it. And he needed a lot of money for parts and paint, all those things. Kenzie was waitressing so she didn’t have a lot of cash. Todd….” He hesitated and looked at Kenzie for permission to continue. She gave a little nod and he went on.
“Todd filled out credit card applications in Kenzie’s name. I guess no one gave him a second look because Mackenzie could be a guy’s name as well.”
Ryan asked, “How many cards?”
Kenzie whispered, “Three.”
Clayton continued. “He used those cards to buy parts for the Mustang.”
Kenzie added, “He kept it locked in the little garage behind the house. I was never allowed to drive it, but just in case he lost his keys, he gave me a set to hold onto. When I found out about the credit cards, I confronted him. He was furious that I dared to question him, but at the same time, he seemed to take great pleasure in letting me know that I was thirty thousand dollars in debt. So in a way, you see, I felt like that car belonged to me. So I…I took it.”
Ryan said, “Since you are here with Clayton, it seems that you and Todd are no longer together. Is that accurate?”
“Very,” said Kenzie. “I wish he would drop dead. He started texting me after I left, making threats. He said he would kill himself if I didn’t bring his car back. He said his life depended on it. He said he would come after me if he had to.”
Ryan tilted his head to one side. “If he committed credit card fraud, he’s already in trouble with the law. Why don’t you just let him take the car and get him off your back?”
Clayton drew a deep breath. Here it came. The part that Kenzie was obviously hesitant to talk about. He felt her eyes on him and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Go ahead,” he said, “tell him the rest of it. It’s okay. He can’t help us until he knows exactly what happened.”