Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “I’m great. As good as I’ve been in years. So before you ask anything else, let me just get it out there: Prent and I are just fine, despite the most recent revelations. In fact, I think we’re stronger because of them.”

  Hannah had the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” Hannah said. “I should know what it feels like to be the subject of public chatter. It’s hard for me to not see some things through my own lens, I guess.”

  Miranda suspected that Hannah was obliquely referring to the infidelity of her first husband, which was common knowledge in the area. But the comparison wasn’t accurate; Prent hadn’t cheated on her. He’d only just discovered the ramifications of an ill-fated relationship which had ended years earlier.

  “We all have our own ways of looking at the world.”

  “Our own crazy experiences,” Hannah said, looking at Jamie, who had morphed from happy to fussy. Miranda suspected the child was getting tired and that it was close to naptime. Hannah sighed and turned her attention directly to Miranda. “I’ll tell you one thing I learned the hard way: don’t forget to take care of yourself. Don’t work so hard on a relationship that you forget about what’s best for you.”

  Hannah cradled Jamie in her arms, and Miranda was touched at the sight. She suddenly felt the same intense anger Prent had described when relating his fury at not knowing about the existence of Peter. He’d missed out on countless moments just like these little intimacies between mother and son.

  “I need to tell you something, and it’s about this,” Miranda said, gesturing to the room.

  She immediately commanded Hannah’s attention.

  “You’re not going to continue with the clinics, are you?”

  Miranda blinked in surprise. “How did you guess?”

  “I’ve heard that you’re thinking about going into practice with Brad Byrd.”

  “Does everyone know my business?”

  “If you live in Bourbon Springs and you’re a nice young doctor?” Hannah joked. “Yeah, people are gonna know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Miranda began, “but it’s just that—”

  “You don’t have to explain your personal business decisions to me,” Hannah said, raising a hand.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Miranda confirmed. “All business.”

  “I understand and respect that.” She glanced at the clock on the wall near the door. “Naptime for this little guy,” she said, looking down at a drowsy Jamie on her chest, “and time for the clinic to open. Best be on my way.”

  Hannah went to the door, explaining that if Miranda needed her, she’d be in her office with the door closed so Jamie could nap.

  Just as Hannah said good-bye, a crash, followed by a string of curses, echoed through the visitors’ center lobby.

  21

  After exchanging frightened looks, Miranda and Hannah hastened toward the tumult. Goose was sprawled on the floor outside the tasting room, Bo standing over him.

  “I told you not to do it!” Bo scolded Goose as the women arrived.

  “What happened?” Hannah asked.

  Goose grimaced and groaned as he tried to push up. Miranda admonished him to still himself and knelt by his side.

  “Damn fool got up on this old ladder to change those bulbs.” Bo pointed to the canister lights overhead outside the tasting room door. “Even though he has a nasty cold, he just had to get up there and do that!”

  “Needed to get done,” Goose groaned. “Told the guys last night those needed fixing, that we can’t have tourists walking into the tasting room without lights overhead. They didn’t get it done.”

  “Take it easy,” Miranda admonished, placing a hand on Goose’s shoulder.

  “Oh, shit,” Goose moaned as he tried to push up on his right arm.

  Miranda gently pushed Goose down until he was once more flat on his back. She gently took his arm and peeled back the sleeve of his button-down shirt.

  “Ow,” he said softly as she touched him.

  “I think you’ve broken your arm, Goose, and maybe that wrist as well,” she said. “You need an ambulance.”

  “I’ll call,” Hannah volunteered.

  “Please tell me you’re joking about the arm,” Goose moaned. He draped his left arm across his eyes.

  “Do that arm and wrist feel like they’re joking?”

  A long sigh escaped him. “There goes another month.”

  Another month? What did he—

  Oh.

  Miranda bent low to whisper in his ear so Bo, who was standing close by, couldn’t hear.

  “But you might end up having a really nice Christmas present or New Year’s surprise if next month works out,” she said.

  Goose dropped his arm from his eyes, reddened, and gaped. She smiled and winked at him before asking Bo to go get a pillow and blanket from the clinic, as well as a bottle of water.

  “Going to give me something for this pain?” Goose said as Miranda took a seat beside him on the bench.

  “No, I just wanted to get rid of Bo to ask how you and Harriet are doing,” she said knowingly.

  “We were doing a lot better ten minutes ago.”

  The EMTs arrived within a few minutes, and Hannah and Miranda watched as the ambulance pulled away from the distillery grounds. Bo followed in one of the Old Garnet trucks.

  “That silly man,” Hannah said. “Broke his collarbone last year, now this.”

  “That’s bad luck.”

  “Not bad luck. Bad judgment. He was driving like a maniac in the four-wheeler and wrecked. When I called Harriet and told her what happened this time, she was at first worried but then furious. Initially I thought it was because Goose had done something stupid again, but I sensed there was more to it. I guess they had a special evening planned tonight.”

  Miranda and Hannah walked back down to Hannah’s office where they checked on a sleeping Jamie, who was out cold in the bottom of his play yard.

  “Looks like you’ll get to skip the diapers bit, won’t you?” Hannah asked.

  “I suppose so. But we’ve missed these kinds of moments as well,” Miranda said, looking down at the sleeping baby.

  “And speaking of baby-related topics, Lila’s shower is coming up in a few weeks. Harriet and I are the planners, and we want to go ahead and get it done a bit earlier in case Lila has to go on bed rest. Want to help?”

  They had a brief discussion about the shower until Miranda heard the door at the end of the hall open. She went to Hannah’s doorway, looked down the hall, and saw a distillery worker entering the clinic.

  Before she left, Miranda apologized again for bowing out of the rotating clinic when her six-month stint was up, but Hannah brushed it off.

  “Do what’s best for you. But just make sure that going into that new practice is just that. Listen to your gut. I’ve learned that I know more than I think.”

  “I wish I had that kind of insight.”

  “Not so much insight as experiences. They come back and whisper to me. And I’ve learned to listen to them.”

  “Like listening to your better angels?”

  Hannah paused, and her eyes narrowed in contemplation of the question.

  “No, I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “I think it’s learning to listen to your wiser self.”

  “It’s done.”

  Prent had wondered how he’d feel once the paternity petition was filed and the world would know one of his most important secrets. He’d thought he might feel embarrassed, angry, or anxious.

  Instead, he felt a tremendous sense of relief and excitement.

  It was really happening. He was going to be a dad—in the legal sense of things—and the ball had started rolling toward getting not only to see his son but custody.

  He was finally on the path toward having a family.

  Now if he could only figure out how to get Miranda into that mix in the right way at the right time.

  “The clerks freaked out a l
ittle bit,” Cord continued. “They didn’t say anything, but I saw one of the clerks call the chief deputy over and hand her the petition as in, you gotta see this. Then the other clerks started to gather around and read.”

  “Only to be expected in a small town. So what’s next?”

  Cord explained how long the grandmother had to respond to the petition and that he’d already contacted Elizabeth Minton to tell her the petition had been filed.

  “I’m hopeful we’ll get a paternity determination within a month, about the first or second week of March,” Cord reported.

  “What? That long?”

  “That’s how this system works. People get a chance to respond.”

  “But what about me meeting Peter? Can you work something out about that?”

  “I talked to Elizabeth, but she said her client is not going to agree to that until paternity is established. And I don’t think I could convince Judge Forrest to order her to produce the child for any kind of visitation until we get that nailed down. I’m sorry.”

  “So what do I do in the meantime?”

  “See one of those counselors you said Miranda mentioned to you. Get ready to show the judge that you’ve prepared for this big change. Judge Forrest will be more likely to give you visitation and custody quicker if we can assure her that you’re ready for this. You won’t get custody or even visitation all at once. She’ll consider Peter’s needs.”

  “I know, I know,” Prent said. “It’s just hard to wait.”

  “Don’t worry,” Cord assured him. “It will all come together, but patience is the word for now.”

  Prent ended the call and stood in front of his office window looking out onto the small courtyard and the Old Oak. A light snow was falling, gently covering everything, and Prent thought about how romantic it would be to propose to Miranda in some snowy locale although not under the Old Oak. He wanted to surprise her and taking her there would tip her off.

  Also, he had decided that another spot was appropriate if only because it would symbolize a new beginning for them. As romantic and unique as his first proposal had been, he couldn’t overlook that it was ultimately unsuccessful since he’d walked away from the wedding.

  Maybe he was a little superstitious but what of it? He liked the idea of another special place for the proposal, but he couldn’t quite think of the perfect place.

  As he stared out the window, another prerequisite for a successful proposal popped into his mind as he mulled popping the question.

  The ring.

  Then and there, Prent called the jeweler in Lexington and discussed what sizes and shapes of loose diamonds were in stock and how long it would take to design a new piece. The jeweler said he would put aside a few stones for consideration, and Prent told him about some ideas he had for the design, including the inscription. Pleased with his progress, he said he’d be in Lexington soon to look at stones and ended the call.

  But his good mood evaporated when he saw his uncle standing in his door.

  “Already rushing to the altar?” Kurt asked with a smirk and a wheezy laugh.

  “Since when did you take up eavesdropping as a hobby?”

  “Since you left your door open and talked about your personal business,” Kurt snapped.

  Prent wasn’t in the mood to argue, but it seemed that’s exactly why his uncle had invaded his space.

  “Do you need to talk to me about something?” Prent asked, hoping to get Kurt out of his office as soon as possible.

  “Is the thing filed?” Kurt asked.

  Prent had told Kurt early in the morning that Cord was filing the paternity petition that day.

  “Yes. I got off the phone with Cord just a few minutes ago. It’s filed, and everything has started.”

  “I’ll say it has. I still can’t believe you were stupid enough to get yourself into this situation although I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. But now that you’ve gone ahead and filed for custody—”

  “I haven’t filed for custody,” Prent interrupted. “I’ve filed to be declared the father. Custody comes later.”

  “But that’s the next step, right?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And you’re sure you’ll get custody?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’m the father.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a little kid that might be awfully attached to his grandma by now,” Kurt said, echoing some of Cord’s concerns. “Have you considered what would happen if you didn’t get custody?”

  “I suppose I’ve thought about the possibility of an extended transition from grandma’s custody to mine.”

  “Then you need to keep thinking, boy. What if you didn’t get custody? Where would that leave you?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m talking about you having to pay child support, that’s what. Haven’t you and that lawyer of yours talked about that?”

  “It’s none of your business what Cord and I talk about.”

  “What I’m getting at is that if you somehow don’t end up with the kid—”

  “His name is Peter,” Prent interrupted.

  “Fine, Peter. The point is that if you don’t get custody, you’ll have to pay up. And if you have to pay, how do they calculate that?”

  “Well, they use my salary, of course, and any and all income,” Prent said, taking a seat.

  “Exactly.” Kurt sat back in his chair looking a little too smug for Prent’s taste. “And that would include anything you get from your trust fund, of course.”

  “Yeah, I understand that.”

  Kurt shook his head. “I can’t believe you don’t see it. If your trust fund money isn’t in that mix, you wouldn’t have to pay so much.”

  “But they have to include that,” Prent said. “I wouldn’t lie about that—and why would I want to lie about it? I’d want to support Peter in the very unlikely event that I didn’t eventually get custody.”

  “Well, I’m going to make sure that it’s not a problem for you,” Kurt said firmly. “My job is to protect your inheritance, and I suppose it’s still my job to protect you from your mistakes. I’m going to reduce what you get from the fund, not down to nothing, but—”

  “You can’t do that! The terms of the trust say you’re to provide for my needs in the style I’m accustomed to—”

  “Don’t tell me what the damn terms say! I’ve read them a thousand times and been trying to do right by your father’s wishes for years! I’m supposed to protect you!”

  “That’s not protecting me. If you reduce the fund payments to me now, that would look beyond suspicious. The judge would think we’d conspired.”

  “Like hell he would,” Kurt scoffed. “I’m in control. Says so right in the terms of the trust, and we could show him the document.”

  “It’s a her,” Prent pointed out. “And you’re not going to fool a judge.”

  “Well, if it’s a woman, I certainly bet I can,” Kurt chuckled.

  “You’re disgusting,” Prent spat at him.

  “Like you can say anything when it comes to how you treat women,” Kurt shot back.

  “Actually, I think I could, and I’d start with having anyone talk to Miranda.”

  “Just because she might enjoy what you can do for her between the sheets doesn’t mean that she’ll necessarily tell anyone what a great guy you are otherwise.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Prent came out from behind his desk. “Did you come in here today just to get in my face, to make fun of me? Apparently that’s the case because I can’t see any other reason for you to talk complete bullshit about the trust fund and insult both me and the woman I hope to marry.”

  “Sorry if you don’t like the way I have to put things, but I’m trying to get you to see the light when it comes to the mess you’ve made of your life and what I have to do. And as far as that woman you want to marry, you’d better get your head examined if you think that’s a good idea. Why the hell do you think she’d want to do that
after your leaving her and knowing that you can get at your money once you get married? Unless she’s completely on board with that plan?” Kurt stood and faced Prent, breathing heavily and with a nasty, purplish face. “That’s got to be it, right? You two getting back together now so you can get to your money?”

  “That’s not it at all!”

  “Really? Then why the hell would a woman like her—a doctor you jilted on her wedding day, for crying out loud—have a damn thing to do with you? I’ve heard she’s got some financial problems of her own when it comes to that medical practice she has! It all adds up! Don’t be a fool!”

  “If that’s our clever plan, why aren’t we already married?”

  “Well, from what I heard, that’s where you’re going,” Kurt said matter-of-factly, not backing down.

  “Miranda doesn’t even know about the terms of the trust. She’s never wanted to know my business, and I’ve never dumped it on her.”

  “Then she’s a lot stupider than I thought if she hasn’t asked those questions—or are you keeping it from her? Couldn’t say that I blame you there.”

  Prent stared at his uncle, not knowing whether to laugh or spit in his face. Kurt had wanted to stir up things, had wanted to make him mad, insecure, and confused. He’d succeeded at that for a short while, but Prent calmed himself and recognized what Kurt was doing.

  “Is there anything else you need to say to me?”

  “Uh… well,” Kurt stammered, apparently expecting more arguing. “Yes, actually. Two things. Remember what we talked about on this next buying trip. Keep your costs down.”

  “Right,” Prent said, not in agreement but to confirm he remembered. “And the other thing?”

  “If I’m going to reduce your payouts from the trust fund, it only makes sense that I do the same for your salary here,” Kurt said. “That way, your income—”

  “Last time I looked, I was an equal owner in this business and you have absolutely no power to reduce my salary.”

  “I sure as hell can do it,” Kurt declared, standing. “And if you ever have any hope of me paying out from that fund again, you’d better damn well do what I’m advising.”