White Pines Summer

by Sherryl Woods

  By dinnertime the next day, Harlan had, in fact, gathered the whole darn clan. Luke and Jessie had driven over from their ranch. Cody, who ran White Pines on a day-in day-out basis, was there with Melissa. Even Jordan had flown in from Houston, where he’d been checking on the branch office of his oil operation for the past week. Kelly met him on the porch and they came in together.

  The next generation was represented by Jordan’s son, Justin, his daughter, Dani and her new husband, and Cody’s son, Harlan Patrick. Cody’s daughter, Sharon Lynn, was expected as soon as she closed Dolan’s for the night, along with her fiancé, Kyle Mason.

  Looking at the noisy gathering crowded around the dinner table, Jenny smiled. She was pretty sure Luke’s daughter, Angela, and Clint would have flown down from Montana with their son if there had been time. Everyone else was there. That was just the way this family did things. That solidarity and strength was what made them wonderful.

  And formidable. She wondered if Chance Adams had any idea what a united front he was about to go up against.

  Maritza had reacted to the sudden dinner party with her usual aplomb. The table was filled with platters of the black-bean burritos, the chicken enchiladas and savory beef tacos that everyone loved. There were huge bowls of pico de gallo and hot sauce spicy enough to burn the roof of your mouth.

  To Jenny’s amazement, her father remained absolutely quiet about the reason for the gathering until after Maritza had served the cooling caramel-topped flan for dessert. Maybe he’d figured digesting all that Mexican food was going to be difficult enough without mixing in stress.

  Or maybe he was just putting off the bad news because he feared getting into it at all. Jenny observed him intently all during the meal and noticed he barely touched his food, even though it was something he loved and rarely got a chance to eat since Maritza had taken to keeping a close eye on his diet. Whatever had happened years ago with this long-lost brother was clearly eating away at him now.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I insisted on getting all of you together in such a hurry,” he began, silencing the small talk and good-natured bickering going on around the table. He cleared his throat. “Something’s come up and I felt it couldn’t wait till Sunday.”

  Everyone’s expression sobered at once.

  “You’re not sick, are you, Daddy?” Luke asked worriedly. “You look a little pale.”

  “Just sick at heart,” Harlan said. “Like I said, something’s happened and it concerns all of you. You have a right to know what’s going on.”

  Luke exchanged a look with Cody and Jordan. “Whatever it is, Daddy, you can count on us. You know that,” Luke said.

  “Agreed,” the other brothers chimed in.

  “You may not be so quick to side with me once you’ve heard the whole story.”

  “What story, Grandpa Harlan?” Justin asked.

  Jenny watched her father draw a deep breath before he began.

  “It all started a long time ago,” he said, “around the time I married your grandma Mary.” He shook his head as if to clear it, then continued, “No, it began longer ago than that. You see, I had a brother back then, a brother named Henry. Everyone around here called him Hank.” He smiled ruefully. “And a lot worse from time to time.”

  “My God,” Jordan’s daughter, Dani, murmured, looking shocked. “Betty Lou told me about him months ago when I was out there treating her dog after that hit-and-run. Remember, Duke? You were with me.”

  “I remember,” her new husband said.

  Jenny stared at her. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Dani shrugged. “I meant to, but...” She glanced at her husband and smiled ruefully. “Let’s just say a lot of things happened. Anyway, I’d forgotten all about it, partly because I just thought she was mixed up.”

  “And partly because you and Duke couldn’t keep your eyes off each other,” Justin taunted his sister.

  “Enough, son,” Jordan said. “Let’s hear what your grandfather has to say.”

  “I’m afraid Betty Lou was right,” Harlan said. “Hank was very real and a handsome enough scoundrel that I’m sure quite a few ladies around town would remember him well.”

  “Didn’t you and Hank get along, Grandpa Harlan?” Justin wanted to know.

  Harlan sighed and his expression turned faintly nostalgic. “When we were boys, I suppose we got along well enough, though I was much older. Maybe that was the problem. I didn’t pay enough attention when he started getting into trouble. It was little things at first. Shopkeepers would complain to Mama that he was taking a pack of gum or a candy bar. Folks around town caught him smoking when he was barely into his teens.”

  Justin and Harlan Patrick exchanged guilty glances. Cody scowled at them. “You two will explain those looks later,” he said. “Go on, Daddy.”

  “Then Mama and Daddy died. I was twenty-five, a newlywed. I didn’t have time for a brother who was getting into a mess of trouble every time I turned around. Petty thievery got worse. I bailed him out time and time again, feeling guilty because I hadn’t tried to stop his mischief.”

  He paused and rubbed his eyes. To Jenny’s shock it almost looked as if he’d been about to cry. She’d rarely seen him this emotional, except perhaps on the day Lizzy had been born.

  “Now that I think back,” he said, “I suppose his behavior was a cry for attention, but at the time I just wanted him out of my life. I was ashamed of him. I was struggling to get this place back on its feet, and for every step I’d take forward, he’d do something to pull me right back into debt. I was either paying off court costs or paying off neighbors not to press charges.”

  “Maybe you should have left him in jail a time or two,” Jordan said, eyeing his own son in a way that had Justin squirming.

  “Maybe I should have,” her father conceded. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I sent him away. Actually I got the judge to release him from jail one last time on the condition he would leave West Texas. I gave him some money, enough of a stake to start over someplace, and told him to get out of Los Piños and not come back, that there was nothing for him here—no home, no family. I was cruel.”

  “He sounds like he was no good, Daddy. You just did what you had to do,” Cody said loyally.

  “He was my brother,” Harlan said fiercely. “That should have counted for something, just the way I’ve always taught all of you to stick by one another through thick and thin. I failed him.”

  “He went, then? And stayed away?” Luke asked.

  “Oh, yes, he went,” Harlan said with little satisfaction. “He stole a piece of valuable antique jewelry, a ruby-and-diamond pin, on his way out the door, but he went.”

  “And you never heard from again?” Jenny asked.

  “Not so much as a whisper—until now,” the old man said wearily. “I didn’t know if he was dead or alive.”

  “You never looked for him?” Jenny asked.

  “Never. I told myself it was for the best to leave things as they were.”

  “Will you tell Chance the whole story?” she asked. She doubted Chance had ever heard this particular version from his own father.

  Harlan sighed. “Only if I have to. It’s not the kind of story a man should have to hear about his father. Could be Hank lived an exemplary life from the day he left. If he did, it would be a shame to ruin that memory for his son.”

  Jenny thought of the bitter, determined man she’d met the day before. He was hell-bent on revenge and enjoying the prospect. He’d never accept platitudes or evasive answers. Eventually Harlan would have to tell him everything. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that. The only real question was how soon the subject was likely to come up.

  “Is there a chance he could make a legitimate claim against White Pines?” Cody asked, looking at Jenny’s
mother, who practiced law in town.

  “Legally he might have some rights,” her mother said. “I’d have to check the terms of the will.”

  Harlan shot a commiserating look at his youngest son. Though everyone in the family would someday own a share of White Pines, they all knew that Cody was the one who’d poured his heart and soul into the running of it. Harlan Patrick was showing every sign of wanting to follow in his daddy’s and granddaddy’s footsteps.

  “No need to look,” Harlan said quietly. “Legally there’s nothing. The deed’s in my name and mine alone. My father made sure of that before he died. He’d already seen that Hank couldn’t handle responsibility.”

  One by one Harlan seared them with a pointed look. “But every single one of you knows there’s sometimes a big difference between doing what’s legal and doing what’s right.”

  Jenny watched her stepbrother’s expression shift from shock to outrage. “You intend to cut him in on the property, give him his half?” Cody demanded, halfway out of his chair.

  “Settle down, Cody. I didn’t say that,” Harlan said. “I haven’t decided yet what’s fair. The truth is White Pines all but belongs to the whole lot of you now. If a decision has to be made, then all of you are going to have to make it together. From what Jenny tells me, the wolf is only a few miles from the doorstep. I just wanted you to have all the facts before you reach a conclusion about how to face him.”

  “You’re dumping this into our laps?” Cody asked, his expression incredulous. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  Jenny regarded her father intently. Suddenly he was looking surprisingly pleased with himself.

  “That’s what I’m saying,” he said.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Luke murmured. He grinned at his father. “You’re a sly old fox, you know that? Not many men get a whopper of a test like this to see how well they’ve raised their offspring.”

  Jenny glanced from one to the other and concluded that Luke had it exactly right. Her father intended to use Chance Adams’s threat as a test of some kind to see what the rest of them were made of.

  What she couldn’t quite figure out, though, was whether he wanted to see them fight to keep White Pines intact or if he wanted them to parcel out a share to his newly discovered nephew. She wondered if he even knew himself, or if, for once in his life, her father was counting on his descendants to show him the way.

  4

  Petey was on his best behavior for the remainder of that first week of school. Chance knew it, because there was no sign of Miss Prim and Prissy on his doorstep. He was forced to admit to being just a little disappointed.

  Jenny Adams hadn’t been out of his mind for more than a few minutes at a time since they’d met. He wasn’t crazy about that fact, but he was honest enough to admit that on some level he’d enjoyed their brief sparring match.

  Fortunately for him it wasn’t in Petey’s nature to stay reformed for long. On Tuesday of the following week there she was again, her face set in a disapproving scowl, her lush lips turned down in a frown and a contradictory blush in her cheeks that Chance suspected had very little to do with addressing his son’s sins. Damn, but Ms. Jenny Adams was cute, a description she would no doubt hate.

  “Lost control again, did you?” he inquired lightly when she marched down the driveway to stand toe-to-toe with him.

  “Three generals and the entire marine corps couldn’t control your son,” she declared.

  Chance hid a grin at her confession. He liked a woman who could admit she didn’t have all the answers. He regarded her sympathetically. “Then you see what I’m up against.”

  She shot a look at Petey, who was regarding them warily, as if they were the last two people on earth in whom he’d want to entrust his life. Chance decided his son didn’t need to observe the upcoming negotiations over his fate.

  He sent Petey inside with strict instructions to go straight to his room. “No TV,” he added, more for effect than any chance the punishment would be followed. Petey would probably have the remote control in hand before the words were out of his father’s mouth.

  When he was gone, Chance cut straight to the topic that was uppermost in his mind, though clearly not in hers. If he could distract her from Petey’s misbehavior for a minute or two, so much the better.

  “So, did you pass on the word regarding my intent to get my hands on White Pines?” he asked.

  Her frown deepened at the question. “I’m not your messenger,” she retorted without missing a beat.

  He grinned at the evasion. “No, but you strike me as a dutiful daughter. My bet is you served up the news right along with supper that night. How’d it go over? Did your daddy confirm that I was telling the truth? Did he admit he stole my father’s share of the ranch right out from under him?”

  The telltale color climbed in her cheeks. It was enough of an admission to suit him. She was still scowling, too, another confirmation of his guesswork. She could fib and evade all she wanted, but he knew the truth.

  “Are you deliberately trying to get me to run interference for you?” she inquired testily, deliberately skirting the specifics of his questions. “Forget it, Mr. Adams. Do your own dirty work.”

  Actually he had wanted to be the one to drop the bombshell in person, but events the last time he and Jenny Adams met had spun out of control too quickly. He’d blurted out the truth before he could stop himself. After that, there’d been no taking it back. He’d just spent the past few days waiting with more than a little impatience to see how events would unfold.

  He’d been a little surprised that half the Adams men hadn’t dropped by in the days since to tear a strip out of his hide or warn him off or maybe try to convince Wilkie to fire him and send him packing. When none of that happened, he’d been almost disappointed. The possibility that they’d simply dismissed his threat as nonsense hadn’t even occurred to him until now.

  His gaze narrowed. “Did I get it wrong? Did your father call me a liar? Is that what happened?” he asked. “Did he claim he’d never had a brother?”

  She regarded him with exasperation. “Mr. Adams, I told you before—this is something you’re going to have to take up personally with my father.”

  Her refusal to use his first name, her refusal to get involved, irritated him more than it should have. His fight was with Harlan Adams. At the moment, though, he was a whole lot more interested in sparring with the woman standing before him. Obviously that perverse streak of his where she was concerned hadn’t gone away. He deliberately locked gazes with her.

  “Chance,” he instructed softly. More experienced women than Miss Prim and Prissy had come unglued under that direct gaze of his. As he’d expected, she swallowed hard and blinked.

  “What?” she murmured, looking a little dazed.

  “My name is Chance.”

  As if she needed to clear her head, she shook it, but she stubbornly refused to give in to his desire to hear his name on her lips. Because he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. She trembled at the touch—but so did he. In fact, nothing had shaken him so badly in years. Reacting to Jenny Adams, except for the sheer perverse fun of it, was not a complication he could tolerate.

  As a result he was suddenly all too eager to see the last of her. He told himself he’d simply tired of the game, but the truth was she was a potential distraction he didn’t need. He’d just realized exactly how dangerous she was to his equilibrium and to his plan.

  He allowed himself one last caress of her silken cheek, lingered long enough to feel her skin heat beneath his touch, then withdrew with regret. Confusion and desire were at odds in her flashing eyes. He knew just how she felt. Her expression mirrored his own unexpectedly jittery reaction.

  “I’ve got work to do,” he announced abruptly. “Maybe you ought to get to the point of this visit.”
/>   The chill in his voice seemed to startle her. “It’s, um...” She cleared her throat. “It’s Petey.”

  “I assumed that much.”

  “He’s not paying attention in class.”

  “Maybe you should make the lessons more interesting,” he suggested, enjoying the fresh flood of color in her cheeks. He didn’t want Petey challenging his teacher’s authority, but that didn’t mean Chance couldn’t take pleasure in it.

  “Mister Adams,” she said, drawing it out and using that prim and prissy tone he found so irritating.

  “Chance,” he corrected again.

  “I think I see where your son gets his problems with authority,” she retorted.

  Chance chuckled. He didn’t intend to mention that he’d very firmly instructed his son that he was to show respect for this particular authority figure. He held up his hands.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know you have a tough job. Tell me what Petey has done to make it more difficult. You said he wasn’t paying attention in class. I assume there’s more to it.”

  “There is. If he was reading a book or staring out the window, it would be one thing. Only his grades would suffer. But it’s worse than that. He’s deliberately distracting the others, drawing them into his mischief. He ignores any attempt I make to silence him. He’s setting a terrible example for his classmates. Have you ever considered having him tested for ADD? That’s attention deficit disorder.”

  Chance stared at her, torn between incredulity and outrage. “I know what it is, Ms. Adams. ADD is not Petey’s problem. If you’ve looked at his school records, then you must be aware that he’s a very bright boy.”

  “Many ADD kids are.”

  “He’s received exemplary report cards. Mostly A’s and B’s. He was never a problem student in any way, shape or form back in Montana. No detentions, no suspensions.” Chance regarded her evenly. “I guess that brings us back to you.”