try.”
Vern shook his head. “Two outfits, that far apart, that high maintenance—I was scared he’d work himself into an early grave trying to handle it all.”
Or go broke trying, Mickey thought. She knew Carolyn had worried about that, too. Without Cal’s help, Tyler would have failed long ago.
Carolyn took Lynn’s face between her hands. “I’m glad good luck’s finally come his way. He’s long overdue, that big brother of yours.”
“And Cal’s coming next fall, too,” Lynn said. “Both my brothers are moving home. I can’t believe it. We’ll all be together again.”
“Well, this occasion calls for one thing,” Vern announced. When the three women looked at him questioningly, he gave them a superior smile. “A toast. In wine. Texas wine.”
Mickey laughed, and so did Carolyn. Lynn hugged her aunt again and said, “And Beverly’s having a baby in less than a month. Nothing’s more important than family. Everything’s perfect.”
“Indeed, it is,” agreed Vern.
And everything did seem perfect. So perfect that no further thought of Adam Duran crossed anyone’s mind.
CHAPTER TWO
ON TUESDAY, Martin Avery came to the house to discuss Enoch’s will. Martin, in his mid-sixties, had rosy pink skin and snow-white hair.
Mild, mannerly and tidy, he had practiced law longer than anyone in Claro County. He was a peaceful man who worked hard to bring about peaceful solutions.
He sat at the dining room table with Carolyn and Vern. Because Mickey handled so much of the ranch’s business, Carolyn asked her to stay and listen to what Martin had to say.
Martin touched the two wills that lay before him. “These are simple documents. Enoch didn’t like doing things in complicated ways.”
Martin summed up the agreement Enoch had originally made with Carolyn’s mother. As long as she paid the lease monies, she was heir to the land. When she’d died, Enoch had the will redrawn naming Carolyn as heir, but nothing else was changed.
He paused. “Did he ever express dissatisfaction with the arrangement?”
Although Carolyn’s face showed concern, she shook her head no. “Every year he endorsed the check and wrote saying that the will stood according to agreement.”
“And when’s the last time he confirmed it?”
“A year ago.” She frowned. “But last year’s lease was legally up on April 21st, and he never cashed this year’s check. If he didn’t cash it, technically, right now, I’m not leasing the land. Is that a problem?”
“Let’s hope not. He probably didn’t cash it because he was ill.”
Vern spoke up. “It still worries me, and so does this executor. Who is he? Why’s he coming here? I don’t like the sound of it.”
Martin laid a slim, pink hand on the older document. “A will has to name an executor. In the first one, he named my father. But my father was retired when Enoch made you heir, Carolyn. He didn’t know or trust me—I was just a young whippersnapper to him.”
He touched the more recent will. “The executor for this one’s a judge in the Bahamas. If he retired or died, Enoch would have to name someone to replace him. Someone he trusted, and he didn’t trust easily. He’d be hard to hoodwink.”
Vern didn’t seem convinced. “Wouldn’t he have to rewrite the will to do that?”
“A handwritten codicil with witnesses should do it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Vern muttered. “But it bothers me. Duran sounds like a crank.”
Martin smiled and handed the two wills to Vernon. “Enoch was a crank himself. It figures he’d hook up with one of his own kind.”
“I wonder why he wanted this man to come to Texas,” Carolyn mused. “What’s the point?”
Martin gave a good-natured shrug. “Maybe that’s how he wanted it done. A friend to carry it out in person. Not to hand it off to some long-distance lawyer.” He made a wry face. “We lawyers are reputed to be a shifty lot, you know.”
Vern laughed, and Carolyn and Mickey both smiled. Carolyn said, “So I shouldn’t expect any surprises?”
Martin’s expression grew serious again. “There can always be surprises. If there are, we’ll deal with them as they arise. In the meantime relax, Caro. You’ve got a blessed event coming up. Don’t let some vague worry spoil it.”
Bridget Blum, the cook, knocked at the door frame. “Carolyn, that antique dealer from Austin’s on the phone. He wants to talk to you about the high chair from England. He can get it after all.”
Carolyn whooped. “He can? Fabulous! I’ll be right there—excuse me, everybody.”
And she was dashing off, the will forgotten for the time, her thoughts happily centering again on the coming of little Carrie.
Vernon pretended to hold his head in despair. “Antique? From England? The shipping alone will break us. She’s a woman possessed.”
“But it’s a good way to be possessed,” said Martin.
Mickey and Vernon walked him to the front door. As they watched Martin climb into his car, Vern said, “She has been extravagant lately. Beef prices aren’t what they used to be. It’s harder for her every year to keep this ranch in the black.”
Mickey knew. Every year she’d seen the profits wobble and sometimes shrink. “It’s just that she’s so excited right now. She’ll come back to herself. You’ll see.”
Vern patted her shoulder. “You’re exactly right. She’s kept a tight budget for a long time. She ought to be able to indulge herself.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to get back to the courthouse, but I’ll be home as early as I can. Mick, are you ready for this Duran character to descend?”
“Ready as I can be.”
Early that morning the man with the Caribbean accent had phoned and left a message on Carolyn’s answering machine. He said that he’d told Duran of the invitation, and Duran sent word he would stay if she wanted him to. But only if.
Carolyn and Mickey had found the message cryptic and wondered why Duran hadn’t phoned himself. Carolyn said maybe he was one of those people who didn’t like phones, and Mickey guessed that he was deaf, and they’d spend the whole visit shouting into his ear.
“I’m sure Carolyn’s delegated you the job of getting ready for Duran.” Vern smiled. “She’s too busy in Babyland.”
Mickey shot him a grin. “Bingo.”
She’d already seen to the guest room and given Bridget a supper menu. If Duran needed entertaining, she’d made a list of things that might amuse him. The Hill Country was in full spring bloom now, and if she had to, she’d drive him past every bluebonnet in the county.
Mickey spanked her hands together. “Don’t worry,” she said with total confidence. “I’ll handle him.”
THAT AFTERNOON Mickey was going over Carolyn’s extensive lists of Things That Must Be Done For the Great Journey to Denver.
Round-trip first-class tickets from Austin to Denver. Check.
Rental car in Denver. Check.
Arrange to courier extra luggage. Check.
Get Vern’s prescriptions refilled. Check.
Carolyn’s travel wardrobe. Fifty-two items, stored in guest-room closet, ready to be packed. Check, except two pairs of shoes.
Vern’s travel wardrobe (as if Vern cared).