meals would be served. What plays would be staged. What furniture and place settings she would use. All of it. Down to the very last detail. Would her new business partner, if she found one, try to change those plans? What was she thinking? She shook her head at her own silliness. Of course he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him.
Maybe the man would agree to split the business 60/40. That way she would have controlling interest of how things were run. Mr. Barker, her new stepfather back in Paradise Haven, whose business-savvy mind she’d questioned almost daily over the past year and a half all the way up until the day of her departure, had taught her that. But... She sighed. Where would she find such a man who would be willing to do that? She didn’t know, but God did. Her lips curled upward with the knowledge that God was in control and that He would work it all out.
Abby gazed up at the clear, blue sky and sent up her prayer request. When she finished, she thanked God for the answer. After all, that’s what living by faith was all about. Trusting Him for the answer before it ever came. Two scriptures popped into her mind. Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. And Philippians 4:6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
Confident she had done that very thing, her attention slid downward toward the tall mountains surrounding the eighty-five-hundred-feet-above-sea-level town. The high altitude had taken some time getting used to. At first, breathing the thin air had been difficult, and she had gotten a lot of headaches. Drinking more water seemed to help. Eventually, she had gotten used to the thinner air, and the headaches were gone. Because of that, she now loved living in these majestic mountains. Mountains unlike any she’d ever seen back home in Paradise Haven in the Idaho Territory.
Back there, the land was much different from here with its rolling hills, bunch grass, tall wheat and rich volcanic ash soil. Here there were large hay meadows, oodles and oodles of sagebrush and high mountains covered with aspen, blue spruce and ponderosa pine trees. Hidden in those breathtaking mountains were running brooks of crystal clear water, concealed waterfalls, wildflowers, caves, bears, mountain lions, bobcats, foxes, coyotes and lots of lots of deer and elk. Her favorite things in this remote mountain town were the hummingbirds, the tiny striped ground squirrels and the itty-bitty chipmunks. Each brightened her day with their cute antics.
The desire to stay in this beautiful town snuggled cozily into her. Only one way to make that happen, though. She’d better get to it. And now. Anxious to get home so she could word her advertisement carefully, and post it as soon as possible, she picked up her pace, sending up yet another prayer. “God, send me the right man. And make it quick.”
* * *
Harrison Kingsley sat at his deceased father’s massive mahogany desk and re-read Abigail Bowen’s advertisement for the fifteenth time.
Wanted: Business Partner.
Prosperous business opportunity for the right gentleman. Guaranteed full return on investment within three months, including interest. If interested, please contact newspaper for more information.
At first he’d thought the ad had been some kind of prank, but his gut told him it wasn’t. Years ago, he’d learned to follow his gut instincts and to trust in them, so three weeks ago he had contacted the paper. They informed him all correspondences would be made through them.
Within a week of responding to the advertisement, he’d received his first reply and was shocked to discover the advertisement had been written by a woman, a woman who had asked many questions about his life. Such as, how old he was, what he did for a living, where he was from, why he was interested in becoming a business partner and many more. Harrison answered each one honestly, and even asked some of his own. The hardest one to answer was, “Why are you willing to invest?”
Need. That’s why. He glanced at the legal paper lying on his desk mere inches from his fingers. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his father’s will and re-read the final stipulation, the very one he had memorized by now.
Notwithstanding anything contained herein, in order for my son, Harrison James Kingsley, to receive his full inheritance as set forth above, he must first prove that he is capable of operating my businesses. As proof of such capability, Harrison must start his own business, which business may be in any manner of industry or trade but which (a) must be located in a community other than Boston and specifically in a community in which he is unknown to the other residents, and (b) must show a profit of at least 1,000 dollars before his twenty-fifth birthday. If he fails to satisfy the foregoing requirements on or before his twenty-fifth birthday, all my assets will be divided equally between the following charities...
Anger bubbled up inside Harrison as it did every time he read that section of his father’s will. He tossed the paper onto the desk, pinched his eyes shut and pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and thumb. How could his father do this to him? Give him so little time to accomplish this? Did his father really hate him that much? Or was he still punishing him for the death of his mother? Harrison didn’t know. But what he did know was that his father still controlled him, even from the grave.
Harrison Kingsley, Sr. had controlled and manipulated him since his birth. Every minute of Harrison’s day had been planned by his father, who ordered the staff to see to it that his strict regimen was followed to the letter. Not only had he been told what to wear, where to go, when to go, who to see, but also whom he was to marry.
It was there Harrison had drawn the line. On the day of his twenty-first birthday, he eloped and married the love of his life, Allison. When his father found out, he was livid and stripped Harrison of any and all income. To this day, Harrison had no idea how his father had managed it, but no one would even consider hiring him for fear of his father’s vengeance.
Harrison had even thought about moving out west in hopes of gaining employment there, but he’d had no money to support them along the way. The final determining factor came when his wife developed complications and was confined to her bed during the remainder of her pregnancy. No other choice remained but to once again succumb to his father’s strict rule of thumb.
Soon after his sons were weaned from their mother’s milk, Allison disappeared, leaving a note saying she no longer loved him. Harrison’s heart had been ripped from him that day and his only consolation was his sons.
Days after his father’s death, Harrison received a parcel that contained two letters. One from Allison, and one from a Mrs. Lan informing him that Allison had been killed in a buggy accident, and that the woman had been asked if anything ever happened to Allison, to send the letter to Harrison.
Allison’s letter stated how she’d never stopped loving him, and that his father had forced her to leave by threatening to withdraw all financial support from them. When that hadn’t worked, he’d threatened to send the boys to boarding school. Allison knew how Harrison despised the idea of sending his sons to boarding school and how powerless he was against his father. She loved him and the twins too much to let that happen, so she’d left. Harrison felt the pain of that decision even now. What kind of father did something like that to his son, anyway?
He’d always known his father resented him and blamed him for his wife’s death. But to go to those extremes? To strip him of the wife he loved and his innocent children of a mother’s love? That was low, even for his father.
Determination rose up inside of Harrison like a geyser. His boys had suffered enough at the hands of their grandfather. He’d be hanged if he’d let them lose their inheritance, too. Therefore, he decided he would do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen. His father thought he’d defeated him even in his death. Well, he’d show him.
His gaze slid to the will sitting in front of him.
His only hope in fulfilling the detestable stipulation his father had thrust on him in such short notice was the one line from Miss Bowen’s advertisement, “Guaranteed full return on investment within three months, including interest.”
He gaped at the envelope staring back at him, wondering if its contents would seal his fate or secure his future. Perhaps it was