From there, Chet made his way to each part of the farm—Jerry had been kind enough to inform him they had a selection of Rangers and other ATVs for just that purpose—starting with the furthest away and making his way back. He was a little worried about going to see Pete, though he was pretty sure he’d won the man over. All their interactions since the luncheon had been pleasant enough. While Chet didn’t think they’d ever be friends, he thought he might have won Pete’s respect, at least. That theory was tested almost immediately.
“Aw, shit, what now? If you’re here to tell me off, can it wait for five minutes while I put out this fire?” Pete groused as soon as Chet turned off the engine of the Ranger.
“Not here to cause trouble, Pete. Can I help with anything?”
Pete stopped and took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Bad morning. One of the new hires forgot to make sure the tractor had fuel and he’s stranded in the middle of the field. I’m supposed to be training somebody else right now, but nobody else is free to go fuel up the tractor and get the kid back here.”
“I can do it,” Chet said. “I can take the Ranger. Just tell me where the fuel is and which field and I’ll head out.”
“You know how to work a bleed screw and prime a diesel engine to get it to restart?”
“As long as the manual is in the tractor to tell me where the screw is, yeah,” Chet said evenly, though it had been years since he’d had to do it.
Pete gave him a long, measuring look. “Boy, you sure ain’t your daddy.” Then he grinned. “Well, come on then. I’ll get you a jerry can. Manual and a screwdriver should be in the tool box on the tractor.”
Pete got him set up and he headed out, finding the field easily enough from Pete’s directions. The drive over took longer than restarting the engine and soon he was following along beside the tractor as they both headed for the worker building that doubled as the fueling shed. Only after they both arrived did it occur to Chet he could have just sent the jerry can back with the new hire.
When he saw Pete again, he was glad he hadn’t.
“I gave you a hard time that first day,” Pete said as he took the fuel can from Chet. “But you’ve proved me wrong. You’re better at running this place than Walker was. Everybody likes you, but they respect you too. You’ve give ‘em reason to.” Pete chewed his lip, obviously unaccustomed to giving out praise. “Appreciate what you did for Edna too.” He leaned close and whispered, “Between you and me, I think her and Jerry are sweet on each other.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Chet’s mind reeling.
Chet had never gone and checked Walker’s office, after he had realized why his father had probably fired Edna. Everything with Nick and the bonfire had sort of pushed it from his mind. But having his employees be so supportive also helped him care a lot less about what his father had tried to do when he left Chet the farm. It was a good feeling, knowing that he was respected and liked. The fact that Walker had been the one to fail, and not Chet, was a bonus.
Still, he was curious. He decided today was as good a day was any and he headed for the building where his father and Edna had worked. On the way there, it occurred to him that he hadn’t checked the withdrawals from his father’s personal bank accounts in the months leading up to his death either. He supposed he could do that from the office.
When he got there, he found the safe easily enough, but it was closed and locked. Knowing Walker, Chet assumed the combination would be hidden in plain sight, so he set out to look for it. Sure enough, there was a framed quote from a poet on Walker’s desk. Since Chet’s father had hated poetry and this poet in particular, Chet guessed that the alleged date given for the quote was the combination.
When Chet tried the numbers, nothing happened, so he tried again. The safe still didn’t open. On impulse, he reversed the numbers and the lock clicked free at last. When the door swung open, he stared in shock.
31
Nick was normally a consummate professional. His dad had often praised him for how unflappable he was during tough meetings and his ability to stay on target when they were faced with one distraction after another.
There was no evidence of that professionalism on Tuesday.
Nick’s mind was not at all on his clients and what they were saying. Repeatedly he had to force himself back to the present—and still he wasn’t certain he’d gotten all the relevant information he should have. After he’d spaced in the second meeting, he thought it prudent to record the remaining appointments, since it was obvious his focus was not going to stay on work.
One singular thought ran through his head while his clients sat across from him and expected him to listen: I asked Chet on a date and he said yes.
It was invigorating and terrifying at once. Nick couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d even been on a date, and that one had not been with his high school crush, so he supposed it wasn’t surprising he was so out of it, but he knew he had to pull himself together. He’d lost a whole morning and it wasn’t good for anyone.
After his fourth meeting—where thankfully he’d managed to keep himself focused more than not—he was surprised to see his father standing in his doorway. The look on his face said it might not be a friendly visit.
“Hey, Dad. What’s going on?” he asked, wondering if he wanted the answer.
Nicholas stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. “That’s what I’d like to know. I just got a call from Kelvin Hofstetter.”
Shit. He’d been Nick’s first meeting of the day.
“Kelvin called me because he said you didn’t seem to be paying him any attention at all. I told him I was sure that wasn’t true, but he said he told you there were cats on Mars and you said you’d look into it.” Nicholas sat down in the same chair Hofstetter had occupied. “Thankfully, he was more concerned than annoyed, but personally, I don’t know which one to be.”
Nick dropped his head into his hands and blew out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry, Dad. He’s right. I’ve had a hard time focusing all morning.”
“That’s not like you at all, son. What is going on with you?”
Nick looked up and stared at his father’s worried face for a long moment before saying anything. He wanted to tell him, but he didn’t want or need a lecture. His father didn’t do that often, but when he did, it screwed Nick up for days. Sometimes Nicholas forgot that Nick was a grown man. He might not have acted very maturely this morning, but he knew he hadn’t and that alone meant a lecture would do little.
“Do you think you can listen to my reasons without yelling?” Nick asked.
Nicholas looked hurt by the question. “Nick. I may be your boss, but I’m your father first. Talk to me.”
“I’ve got a date on Friday.”
Nicholas frowned, but said nothing.
“I know that sounds like a flimsy reason, but I haven’t dated in a few years. And this isn’t just some guy. This is Chet Barnaby. I liked him in high school and I... well, I fucked it up, let’s leave it at that. But he’s decided he can forgive me. So I asked him out and he said yes. And now I’m going completely out of my mind.” Nick braced himself for being chastised, despite what his dad had said.
“Why?” Nicholas asked instead.
“Why what?” Nick asked, confused.
“Why are you going out of your mind? What is it you’re afraid of, exactly?”
Nick thought about it for a minute. What was he worried about?
“Screwing it up,” he said at last. “I’m scared I’ve finally got my shot and I’m going to screw it all up again, this time for good.”
“Son, I realize I haven’t known Chet for very long, but from what I know of him, the man doesn’t do much that he doesn’t want to do.”
“And?” Nick asked, frowning hard in annoyance.
“And, the man said yes.” Nicholas looked at Nick as if that explained his full point, but Nick was so turned around he wasn’t getting it. Nicholas rolled his eyes. “He
wants to go on the date, Nick. He said yes because, despite the fact that you seem to be missing a few brain cells right now, he wants to go out with you. So you both have an equal chance of screwing it up. And of making it amazing.”
Understanding finally broke through Nick’s foggy brain and he sagged in relief at his father’s words.
“I don’t know what happened between you in high school, but from what Chet said before, it was pretty bad. I doubt it’s something likely to happen again. You’ve learned a hell of a lot in the last fifteen years, Nick. I could not be more proud of the man you’ve become. You’re not going to screw it up.”
Tears prickled in Nick’s eyes as Nicholas stood.
“Now can I trust that the same is true of the rest of your appointments for today?” Nicholas asked, his smile belying the sharpness of his tone.
Nick laughed. “Yeah, Dad. I’ll pull it together. Thank you.”
Nick ate lunch in his office, determined to be overly prepared for the rest of his appointments. What he wasn’t prepared for was a text from Chet a few minutes into his meal.
Chet: I know we’re going out on Friday, but can I see you tonight?
Chet: Something happened and I could a sympathetic ear
Nick: Of course. I’m not sure how soon I’ll be done, but I’ll swing by after work?
Chet: Awesome, thx
Nick didn’t know what could be going on with Chet, but any excuse to see him again was fine with Nick. He only hoped it would keep him from obsessing about Friday.
32
Chet was still staggered by everything he’d found in the safe. He didn’t know what it meant that his first instinct had been to call Nick, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it. Frankly, knowing that Nick would be coming over to talk it through gave him a sense of relief he didn’t want to examine too closely. He didn’t have the brain power to examine it, even if he wanted to.
He suddenly realized he was shaking. He thought maybe a splash of brandy to calm his nerves was in order. He would have preferred pot, but he didn’t think it was wise to be that impaired right now. He finally went and made coffee, for lack of anything else to do, only remembering the brandy once he reached the kitchen.
No sooner than he had gotten the coffee started than there was a knock at the front door. He glanced at the clock, certain it was too early for Nick, but hoping it was him anyway. Instead, Chet couldn’t at first comprehend what he was seeing through the peephole. He opened the door to see if he was imagining things.
“Well, it’s about time, Zsa-Zsa!” Reuben said, pulling Chet into a hug before he could even react.
“Zsa-Zsa?” he asked in confusion.
Reuben gave him a put-upon sigh and shoved him away. “From Green Acres, ‘dahling.’ Come on, surely you had cable as a kid.”
Chet rolled his eyes, starting to get his brain back online. “Of course I didn’t. Walker didn’t believe in it. But I did get to watch Green Acres reruns in college.” Chet shook his head to clear it. “Sorry, I’ve already had a shocking day and now you’re here. I’m glad you’re here, but how are you here?”
“Can we go inside first? It’s cold out here.”
Though it was March, the weather still hadn’t warmed up as much as Chet had expected. He stepped back so Reuben could come inside. He noted that Reuben had a bag with him, so he directed him to the spare bedroom downstairs and told him where to find bed linens. Once Reuben had his things sorted and sheets ready for later, he returned to the living room.
“I wasn’t aware you lived in a convent,” Reuben said, his dark eyes flat with distaste.
“You should have seen it yesterday. I stayed up half the night moving junk into the dining room so it wouldn’t look like a rummage sale in here.” Chet looked around with new eyes, wondering if he would bother fixing the place up, after all. “I need a drink and I’m sure you do too. There’s also coffee. You want anything special?”
“Just bring me whatever you’re having. Then you can tell me about this shocking day and I can tell you why I’m here.”
Chet escaped to the kitchen. He was happy Reuben was here, grateful even, but he also felt strange having his two worlds collide like this, on today of all days. He was divided between coffee and liquor, so in the end he poured each of them half a cup of coffee and spiked them both with a generous glug of Bailey’s and a splash of whiskey.
“Tell me how you’re here,” Chet said, returning to the living room and holding out a mug.
“Well, I had a few days vacation coming, and after you texted last week and mentioned me coming for a visit, I decided to surprise you. I flew into Columbia and drove up in a rental.” For the first time Reuben looked worried. “You’re not mad, are you?”
Chet laughed. “I’m thrilled! Why would I be mad?”
“Well, I took off work without letting you know and then I just show up uninvited and don’t even look for a hotel—”
“Reuben, you’re the boss while I’m gone. You can take off whenever you want. And you are my best friend. You’re always welcome in my house.” Chet sat down next to him on the stiff floral couch, putting an arm around him. “If I didn’t seem happy, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with this day.”
“Talk to me, booboo. What happened today before moi showed up.”
Chet stood, intending to pull the contents of his father’s safe from where he’d left them. He was interrupted by a knocking at the door. Frowning, he checked the clock. It was surely still too early for Nick, but he couldn’t think who else it might be. When he reached the peephole, he saw Nick standing there, looking off toward the barn. His heart responded against his will and started pounding slightly in his chest.
“Hey!” Nick said when the door opened. “My last appointment cancelled, so I was able to leave early. You seemed pretty shaken up. Everything okay?”
Chet was so relieved to see Nick that he hugged him instinctively. “I’m glad you’re here, Nick,” he said as he stepped back again. “Come on in and meet my friend Reuben.”
“Best friend, you—uh, hello there,” Reuben said, voice going velvety. “And who might you be?”
“Down girl,” Chet said in amusement. “This is Nick. Nick is friend, not food,” he said, paraphrasing a children’s movie Reuben loved.
“Plus, Chet has dibs,” Nick said, giving Chet a wink.
Chet grinned at Reuben’s crestfallen look. “That too.”
“Well, if the hot man isn’t going to flirt with me then he needs to sit down so I can hear about what happened today.”
Chet sobered a bit. “Yeah. You two sit.” He pulled a piece of paper from the table where he’d left it and walked over to the couch, holding it out to Nick. “Nick, will you read this out loud, please? I don’t think I can and it’s easier than having each of you read it to yourselves.”
Nick took the paper with a confused expression, but read it out loud as instructed.
The letter read:
Dear Chet,
If you found this letter on your own, congratulations. I’m genuinely impressed. If some lawyer delivered it to you, I’m disappointed, but not altogether surprised.
Regardless, if you’re reading this, I’m dead. And you’ve probably been wondering since the reading of the will just why it is that I would give you a chance to inherit the farm.
Before I explain, I’ll have to go back to a time before you were born. Your mother was pregnant with you, but I didn’t know that at the time. What I did know, had just found out, in fact, was that your mother had been unfaithful to me, in a tawdry affair with my farm manager.
Naturally, that left me reeling, but before I could decide what to do about it, I further learned that the man had brokered a deal behind my back, a deal which I could not back out of without much difficulty, cost and/or scandal. As you are no doubt aware, I detest all of those things. However, what it did allow me to do was fire the man with cause, allowing no one to be the wiser as to my cuckolding at his hands.<
br />
I was angry with your mother, but not long later I learned that she was pregnant. You might think me naive, but I never questioned your paternity. I was thrilled to have a son to carry on the family farm and for the few years of your life, all was well. However, the truth eventually did come out and I learned you were not, in fact, my child, but the bastard resulting from my wife’s transgression with my former manager.
You’re no doubt wondering why, then, I’ve left you the farm, (or at least gave you the chance to acquire it, if you had the fortitude to take on the challenge). Why would I do that for someone who is not my biological son?
In part perhaps owing to a sentimentality from those early years of your life when I bonded with you as if you were my own. In part because I have recently learned I am dying. I want to make sure my farm is well-handled (I’ve kept tabs on your business in Nashville and you’ve shown strong business acumen). Leaving it to the son who abandoned me will also ensure my good reputation in Rubyville is cemented long after I am gone.
But primarily my decision to leave the farm to you is because that deal your father made behind my back turned out to be very lucrative, and in fact is the very reason why the farm became as successful as it did. So, bastard or no, the farm is, in a way, your birthright.
Your real father has no idea about any of this. I don’t think he even knows that I know about the affair. Finding his name will be easy enough, so I won’t bother giving it to you.
I wasn’t sure how to go about hiding this letter so that it would take real effort to find it, but then Edna, good employee though she was for many years, crossed me. I’ll spare you the details, but being able to fire her allowed me to create a sort of scavenger hunt for you (always assuming Pete is the same loudmouth complainer he always has been and that you are the same nosy little shit who endlessly questioned my authority that you used to be).
Home to Stay (Southern Boys Book 2) Page 13