by S.E. Akers
I stared at the check and thought, Fifteen million dollars… This is going to hurt. I pushed my shades back up to their original spot and then swiftly tore through the paper in one swoop.
Charlotte sprang out of her chair screaming, “Are you CRAZY!?! Chloe, get the DAMN TAPE!”
“Sit down, Chloe,” I ordered and then turned to Mr. Holbrooke to announce, “I’m not selling.”
Not appearing the least bit fazed, Mr. Holdbrooke immediately countered, “How about twenty-five million?”
I was left completely stunned—though not by the amount—but by the apparent orders given to Mr. Holdbrooke fueled by Lazarus Xcavare’s desperation to seal the deal. I wondered, Just how high is that bastard willing to go?
“Mr. Holdbrooke that’s a very generous offer,” I began, aiming for polite, “but you’re not listening to me. Shiloh Ridge is not for sale . . . Not today or any other day. My father . . . He wouldn’t have wanted that,” I added confidently, despite the painful crack severing my words.
The next thing I knew, pandemonium swept through the dining room like a runaway train. Charlotte started wailing uncontrollably, which catapulted Mr. Barlow right out of his seat and had him rushing to her side (and almost crashed into the china cabinet doing so)… Chloe was stomping around the room and cursing up a storm, bitching about all the things she couldn’t buy now… And then there was Mr. Holdbrooke, whose fingers were hammering the screen on his cell phone in a panic. I simply sat there, calmly taking in the chaotic scene. Then just as I was about to get up and leave, Mr. Holdbrooke extended his cell phone my way.
“Mr. Xcavare would like to speak to you, Ms. Wallace,” Mr. Holdbrooke announced nervously.
An icy chill shot down my spine as I stared at the cell phone. I hadn’t spoken to Lazarus since the other day at the mine…and now, I was about to speak my first words to the man responsible for taking my father’s very last breath.
Mr. Holdbrooke spoke, “Here she is, Sir,” and then handed me the phone. Slowly, I placed the cell up to my ear and simply listened. I couldn’t even say a word.
“Ms. Wallace? Shiloh, isn’t it? We met at the mine the other day, child. Do you remember?” Lazarus Xcavare asked.
How in the Hell can I forget?
“Oh, I remember,” I replied, trying my best to bite my tongue. “You tend to leave a lasting impression.” You sure do with your poisonous blue hands, you Son-of-a-Bitch!
Lazarus continued, “Well, I try. Tell me, Shiloh. What’s all this silly nonsense I’m hearing about you not wanting to sell me the land on Shiloh Ridge because your father wouldn’t have wanted it. That sounds preposterous if you ask me. What father wouldn’t want his daughter’s future to be secure by starting out in life as a millionaire, twenty-five times over?”
“Mine,” I popped off with a clip.
Lazarus cleared his throat and carried on. “You know, you’re right. I think I know what you mean. I think a father would be much more comfortable with let’s say, oh I don’t know . . . Maybe thirty-five million? That would help you out? Let you sleep well at night?” he stressed with a slight grumble.
That sure hit a nerve. “I don’t know about that, Mr. Xcavare. It’s been really hard lately, what with him being taken so suddenly and all — the way that he was.” A sore sigh shot out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “We just never know when or where the cold hands of death will land . . . Do we?”
“No . . . No, we don’t,” Lazarus muttered, sounding noticeably taken off-guard. “Well, anyway, let me just tell you why I think it would be a wise decision. May I?”
As I sat there half-listening to Lazarus Xcavare trying his best to persuade me to sell Shiloh Ridge, I couldn’t help but become fixated on the exchange occurring between Charlotte and Ace Barlow. The way he was consoling her struck me as odd. Within a few seconds, I realized why. It was his touch, the way he was holding her hand as he sat there, hugged up beside her. As soon as his fingers brushed over the top of her hand, I knew. This was no mere attorney-client relationship — not in the least.
I snapped out of my daze and turned my attention back to the party on the other end of Mr. Holdbrooke’s phone. I caught the tail-end of Lazarus saying, “So, Ms. Wallace? Thirty-five million. What do you think?”
I eyed Charlotte as I rose from the table. The corners of my mouth lifted slightly when something Lazarus had said to Beatrix the other day flashed in my head. “See, Mr. Xcavare, you were wrong. Some people don’t have a price,” I answered brazenly. Then before he could utter a reply, I swiftly hit the end button on the fancy cell phone and tossed it back to Mr. Holdbrooke while my eyes remained locked on Charlotte the entire time.
I threw my chair under the table energetically and announced, “This has been fun, but I’m off!”
“You can’t do this to ME! To US! To OUR FAMILY!” Charlotte pleaded as I headed towards the doorway. “We NEED that money, Shiloh! Honey, please! How else are you going to pay for college?”
Her shocking and shameless assessment stopped me dead in my tracks. I whirled around on the spot. How dare she even mention “college” to me, especially after her attempts to sabotage my plans? I could have literally set the dining room on fire with heat building from my glare.
I unclenched my jaw. “I’m going now — MOTHER,” I announced and then turned to leave.
“WAIT!” Charlotte screamed. “If you don’t care about yourself, then think of your sister and me. What are we supposed to do without your father here to help us? Who is going to help ME?” she cried and shored it up with a dramatic stomp.
All the men who had “helped” my mother ran through my head, sending my brow into a thoughtful rise. I looked over at Mr. Barlow and then back at her. It was too priceless of a moment, and the smart ass in me just couldn’t resist.
“Frankly, Charlotte . . . I don’t give a damn!” I sang with a grin and then exited the room with a theatrical spin, my feet practically bouncing a path to the front door.
Standing outside on the porch, I breathed in a deep whiff of late afternoon air. The mountains had never looked more alive and everything smelled so much sweeter…and I knew the real reason why.
Ironically though, I never thought I would be one to revel in someone else’s misery — partly because of how Daddy had raised me, but mainly because I feared karma too much. However, after having endured year after year of her crap, I found the blaring sound of Charlotte’s dramatic and desperate wails that followed me all the way to my Charger to be an absolute-freaking-delight.
I gave my engine a lengthy and triumphant crank. I had to wonder if Rhett Butler felt as good as what I did right now.
I grinned. Probably not…
Chapter 18