Ladd Fortune

by Dianne Venetta

  “Can you come back tomorrow?” Clem asked.

  Jeremiahs’ instinct was to refuse, but on account he had no other leads, he agreed. “What time?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “Ten o’clock,” he confirmed.

  Clem’s smile returned. “I think we may be able to work together to get us some revenge, you and me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  At the knock on the door, Annie clicked off the television set. Nine o’clock in the evening, no one should be calling on them at this hour. Casey was up and en route to answer it. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked, rising from the couch.

  “No,” Casey replied.

  Annie took a brief survey of her apartment—a quick assessment of its suitability for guests—and judged it to be tidy. There wasn’t a whole lot to the two-bedroom apartment, and with Casey spending most of her time in her bedroom or on the couch watching television, not a whole lot to mess up. “Check through the peep hole,” Annie instructed. “It could be a stranger.”

  Casey did, then opened the door. “Hi, Candi.”

  A staccato of pulse erupted.

  “Is your mom home?” Candi asked.

  “Sure.” Casey stepped aside, allowing Candi to enter.

  But Candi stood locked in place. Hesitant, her brown eyes latched onto Annie, but she didn’t take the first step.

  “What are you doing here?” Annie demanded.

  “Annie, we need to talk.”

  “I’ve said everything I have to say to you.”

  Casey gaped between them, obviously confused by the hostility between friends. Ex-friends. Annie had yet to tell her daughter about their change in status.

  “Please,” Candi pleaded, wary of Casey. “Two minutes. That’s all I need.”

  Annie slanted a gaze toward her daughter. “Casey, will give us a minute?”

  “Sure,” she said, and meandered out, curiosity tearing through the sudden tension filling the living room.

  Candi ventured inside, closing the door behind her. Annie stared at her, determined not to give her a second longer than necessary. Looking at her ex-friend now, she only saw a tramp, her naked body wrapped around Jeremiah’s, the two laughing in their betrayal. Annie shut the images from her mind, crossed arms over her chest. The woman made her nauseous. “What do you want?”

  “Jeremiah came by today.” Shards of ice filled Annie’s heart. “He mentioned he ran into you and that you were seeking rights to the property. I explained about Casey and he tried to say she was Clem’s.” The accusation found its mark, dead center in her chest. The two women went still. “So it’s true...”

  “Who I slept with is none of your business,” she said, but she felt shamed by the shock circulating through Candi’s expression. She’d never told her. Never once had she let on she had slept with her brother. But then again, Candi never mentioned her affair with Jeremiah either.

  “But she isn’t, Annie,” Candi said quickly. Rooted in place, she shook her head vehemently. “She can’t be. Clem is sterile.”

  Annie’s emotions imploded. Disbelief streamed through her limbs, unwound her arms. “What?”

  Candi nodded. “Clem is sterile. He can’t possibly be Casey’s father.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “A girl once tried to claim he was the father of her baby. She was fifteen, he was eighteen. Her family was trying to get him on rape. Clem denied he ever slept with her, but the judge ordered him to take a test. Turned out, he was sterile. The girl had been lying the whole time.”

  Annie’s world caved in. “Oh my God...Clem is sterile.”

  “You get a paternity test and you’ll have your proof positive,” Candi said proudly.

  “Jeremiah is Casey’s father.” It’s what Annie had insisted all along, yet somehow doubted. Clem is sterile. Jeremiah is Casey’s father.

  “Just like you thought all along,” Candi asserted.

  “You mean to tell me that man who made a scene in the diner today is my father?” Both women whirled. Casey stood at the edge of the hallway, repulsion simmering in her gaze.

  “How long have you been standing there, young lady?” Annie exclaimed, feeling none of the authority she was trying to display. The pain etched in her daughter’s features broke her heart. Annie could feel her daughter’s deep fury stir. It matched the shame churning through herself.

  “Long enough to hear the truth.”

  “Oh, Casey, I’m sorry,” Candi burst out.

  “Because that loser is my father? It’s not your fault.” Casey honed in on her mother. “How could you sleep with a man like him? How could he be my father?” Disgust spilled from her expression. “He’s not. He’s nothing but a sperm donor.” Casey turned on her heel and fled to her bedroom.

  “Casey!” Annie ran after her daughter a few steps but gave up. She dropped her face into her hands and muttered, “What have I done?”

  Candi came to her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. Warm, solid, they were allies again. “She’ll be okay. She just needs time.”

  Annie lifted her head and turned. Peering into the eyes of her best friend, a woman she had shunned only days ago but now needed more than ever, she asked, “Time to what—accept that her father is a loser? I think she’s managed that quite well, don’t you?”

  “Annie.”

  “Well? It’s the truth.” Annie gazed off in the direction of her daughter’s bedroom. “Jeremiah Ladd is a loser, with a capital L.” Annie knew Candi wouldn’t disagree with her. She couldn’t. Coming from a family of bitter relations herself, it was a condition with which Candi was all too familiar.

  “I’m sorry,” Candi said.

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For Jeremiah, for Clem...”

  The words fell away, leaving the two mired in the wake of their choices. A frivolous commercial flashed on the television screen, adults resorting to ridiculous antics for the sole purpose of selling clappable light switches. Totally inane in the scheme of life. Unlike trust. Trust lay at the core of life. Candi had done her friend wrong. Annie had done Candi wrong. But who had poor Casey done wrong?

  No one.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” Candi asked.

  Candi had slept with Jeremiah behind her back. She had betrayed her in the vilest of terms—breaking the code of sisterhood. Women didn’t sleep with their friends’ boyfriends. That was out of bounds. Annie considered the notion. Was it okay if they slept with their brothers? In the sweep of one question, all the hurt and anger and shame were brushed away. “There’s nothing to forgive.” Candi hugged Annie. She hugged back, holding her friend like the lifeline she was, would always be. “I love you, Candi.”

  “I love you, too. We’ll get through this,” she whispered fiercely. “You watch and see.”

  Annie nodded. “But will Casey?”

  Per Clem’s instructions, Jeremiah returned to the jailhouse the next day, nursing a mild hangover after a night out with the old gang, anxious to discover whether or not Clem had anything real on Delaney. He said he knew a secret. Was it possible it was something big?

  Waiting at the walled cubicle, Jeremiah looked around him. A girl sat pressed to the window, as though she could move through the glass and make out with her man. Another guy seemed to be talking to his mother. She was upset, he was asking for money, probably asking the old woman to put her house up for bond.

  As Clem emerged from the back and ambled up to the window, Jeremiah centered on him. In reality, there was only one jailbird he was interested in. Yesterday Clem sounded like he really hated Delaney. It could have something to do with why he kidnapped her, but Jeremiah had yet to uncover that dirty little morsel of information. Would it be something he could use against her? Something that would help him take the property from her and Felicity? His father had signed over a life estate deed. Jeremiah didn’t know anything about deeds, life estate or otherwise. All he knew is that it had to be overturned. A lawyer pal of his
in Atlanta said it was doable. He only needed a reason.

  “Sweeney,” he said, impatient to begin.

  Clem sat and bent forward, a quick smile forming on his lips. “So, you still wantin’ to get after Delaney?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay.” He glanced from side to side, as though checking for eavesdroppers. As if anybody cared what Clem Sweeney had to say.

  “What’s the deal?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Come here,” Clem muttered harshly. “Closer.”

  Jeremiah didn’t like anyone barking orders at him. “Why?”

  “Cause nobody can hear what I’m about to tell you.”

  Jeremiah doubted anything Clem had to say was that important, but obliged.

  “But before I say a thing”—his mouth twitched like a rat—“I need to know what’s in it for me.”

  “Revenge,” Jeremiah replied evenly. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

  “I want more than revenge. I want out of jail.” Clem swiped a glance to his side.

  “I don’t even know why you’re in jail.”

  “A phony kidnapping charge, that’s why.”

  Jeremiah pretended surprise and, raising a brow, eased away from the window. “I can’t help you with that, brother.”

  “Yes, you can. You got money.” Clem eyed the expensive shirt Jeremiah was wearing, looked at the watch on his wrist. Jeremiah realized he was making an inventory of his wardrobe. “I need money to make bail.”

  “How much?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Ten thousand.”

  Jeremiah blew out a low whistle. “That’s a chunk of change.” He pushed his chair back. “Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  “Yes, you can. I got a friend who works as a bondsman. He can help you.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have that kind of money.”

  Clem swept the surroundings with a guarded look and waggled his finger for Jeremiah to return to the window.

  Growing tired of Clem’s stalling tactics, Jeremiah leaned over and clipped, “What?”

  “There’s gold in Ladd Springs.”

  “Gold?”

  “Hush your mouth!” Anger glinted from muddy brown eyes as he scolded, “You tryin’ to alert the whole world?”

  An anger of his own fired in Jeremiah’s belly as he glared at Clem. If he was yanking his cord—“What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I done told you. There’s gold in the rocks in the woods.”

  “Where?”

  Pleasure glinted in Clem’s gaze. “That’s the part I have to tell you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “First you got to agree to help me with bail.”

  Jeremiah wasn’t sure there was gold, let alone how much, but he damned well knew he wasn’t going to help Clem with bail. “Let’s say I’ll help you if there’s enough of this gold you’re talking about to spare it.”

  Clem scowled. “You’re just as greedy as Delaney.”

  “Except you forgot one thing. It’s my land.”

  Clem eased back into his chair. “Well then, I ain’t gonna show you where the gold is.”

  Jeremiah leaned back in his chair, made a sweeping glance of the barren visitor’s room and asked, “How are you going to show me anything?” He rolled his eyes around them and said, “You’re rotting in jail.”

  “I got friends on the outside.”

  Jeremiah chuckled. Friends. His same cohorts from high school? Or had Clem upgraded his list of contacts? He returned to the window and said, “Okay. I’ll help pay your bail.” Whatever you need to hear, he mused. “Now where’s the gold?”

  Clem hesitated. “You swear?”

  “I swear. Cross my heart,” he mocked, gesturing across his chest.

  “I’ll have my friend Willie meet you at Bubba’s Hideaway.”

  Jeremiah knew the place well. Bubba’s Hideaway was a dive in the worst section of town. If you weren’t looking for trouble, you kept away. It was a reality he knew all too well. He’d be lucky to get out alive, let alone find Clem’s pal, Willie. But if there really was gold on the property... “When?”

  “Today. Noon.”

  “How will I know who he is?”

  Clem smiled, skimming over Jeremiah’s clothes with a sneer. “He’ll find you.”

  “Okay.” Jeremiah stood. “You better not be wasting my time.”

  Clem rose. “And you better not double-cross me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At twelve noon on the dot, Malcolm strolled into the diner, the smell of greasy grilled food increasing tenfold as he entered. As usual, the restaurant was packed, the clamor of kitchen activity evident from here. Pleased to find Lacy ready and waiting, he smiled. Malcolm liked punctuality in a woman, and liked her in black boots. At least the way Lacy wore them. Combined with a short blue denim skirt and a fitted white tank, she was sexy as hell. He could see the outline of her pink bra beneath the white cotton and chuckled. Either she had no mirror or the girl had gumption. Both of which suited him fine and blended perfectly well with his khaki shorts and navy T-shirt. His hiking boots were a tan pair he’d purchased to get him through the Brazilian rain forest and Australian Outback.

  Her hand possessively guarding a brown paper bag, Lacy was a standout among the crowd, men and women dressed conservatively and milling quietly about as they waited for a table. Good thing they weren’t standing in line. Malcolm doubted they’d be sitting any time soon. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he said, and pecked her cheek with a kiss.

  Lacy giggled. “Good morning, yourself.”

  “You ready for our picnic?”

  “Sure am.” She tapped a large paper bag sitting on the cashier’s counter. “Aunt Frannie packed us a lunch and everything.”

  Malcolm peeked into the bag, his nose inundated with the warm moist scent of fried something. But Fran fried a lot of things. “It smells good. What’s in it?”

  “Fried chicken and okra, biscuits and cornbread, two slices of peach pie, some pig ears for snacking on...” Lacy batted her eyelashes. “She wasn’t sure what you’d want, so she included everything.”

  “I love your Aunt Frannie.” Though he could do without the pig ears. “Think she’ll adopt me?”

  “Probably. Aunt Frannie’s a pushover when it comes to handsome men.”

  That surprised him. “She is?”

  Lacy nodded, adding a mischievous wink. “Must be where I get it from.”

  Malcolm liked what he heard. Dodging a man standing close to Lacy, he grabbed the bag and extended an elbow for Lacy. “Shall we?”

  She looped her arm through his and said, “We shall!”

  Malcolm had missed Lacy at Whiskey Joe’s last night. He’d gone there in hope of running into her but after two hours, abandoned the effort. Disappointed but not about to give up, he called Nick to see if Delaney could get Lacy’s number. No problem, he’d been told. Between Fran and Ashley, one of them was bound to have Lacy’s contact information. Within ten minutes he had Fran’s number and called Lacy first thing this morning.

  “So where are we headed?” Malcolm asked, opening the passenger door to his truck for her, assisting her as she hopped in.

  “Zack’s Falls.”

  “Zack’s Falls?” he asked, placing the bag of food in the seat behind her.

  “You said you wanted to go to my favorite picnic place.”

  Closing the door, he grinned at her through the half-open window. “Yes, but I didn’t know we were going swimming.”

  “You want to?” she asked with a sudden eagerness.

  He frowned. “No suit.”

  “No need,” she replied, a naughty tickle in her gaze.

  He laughed and said merrily, “I think I’m in love.”

  Climbing into the driver’s seat, Malcolm drove the short distance to Ladd Springs. Nothing but blue sky and balmy temps, it was a great day to be outside. Unlike California in the summertime when the hills turned golden, Tennessee was green and lush. Veritable
forests lined the roads—open roads, country roads—and flowers abounded. From a proliferation of wildflowers street-side to the manicured borders and window boxes around houses, colorful blooms were everywhere. Branches suspended their leaves over the road creating a lush canopy of shade as they drove. Here and there, mailboxes poked out from private drives, most homes hidden from sight behind a wall of trees. Tennessee was different than any other place Malcolm had been. Trees and forests he’d seen, but driving these quiet country roads filled him with a sense of peace and tranquility, completely unlike driving through the jungle, where the senses fired to eight cylinders on watch for natives and wildlife, hair pin curves that weren’t announced. The rocky coastline of California offered the crash and thunder of the Pacific Ocean where here the water flowed rapid and rhythmic through rivers and creeks.

  And then there were the springs. Nick had given him the grand tour and it was amazing. Out of nowhere, water would spurt from the ground and begin a stream that traveled down the mountainside until its path became blocked, detoured or re-routed. Delaney’s father had built a wishing well around a spring off Ernie’s cabin. It was a plain wooden structure, used for aesthetic purposes only, but the spring it concealed was a gift of nature. More than drinking the spring water, Malcolm imagined showering in it—heated, of course—but showering from water cleaner than any city in the country, any land in the world.

  Malcolm was content to simply drive around these parts. No doubt, something his guests would enjoy as well. But today wasn’t for scenic drives. Today was for outdoor hiking, a vigorous jaunt to Zack’s falls, a part of Ladd property he had yet to tour. He gazed over at his passenger, the beautiful brunette staring out the window as though she were mired in thought. He hoped it was all good.

  Lacy broke the silence. “You don’t have a wife you’re hiding somewhere, do you?’

  “A wife?” Startled, he reached over the center console and patted her arm. “Not on your life.”

  She looked at him queerly. “You don’t want a wife?”