see you, Ms. Heflin. And you remember Cliff Martin.”
She turned to Cliff, wishing he didn’t look as if he had just stepped out of a movie poster or ad. Darn, his dark hair didn’t even show a thread of gray, unlike hers.
Cliff Martin. The man who had been helping her aunt keep the place up the past few years. The man who leased most of her aunt’s grazing land. The man she had ditched. Her hand trembled a bit as she offered it.
He spoke. “So you finally got back here.”
It sounded so much like a criticism that she had to bite back an angry retort. All she could do was drop her hand, turn away and take the empty chair. Working on the streets with troubled kids had taught her to be wary of how she responded to people. Problems could start in a flash.
She managed to keep her voice even. “I’ve been back.”
The men sat. She avoided looking at Cliff Martin and focused on John Carstairs. “I traveled all night,” she said. “I may be a little slow this morning.”
He at once reached for his desk phone and punched a button. “Jackie? Could you bring some coffee for Ms. Heflin?” He arched a brow at her.
“Black, please.”
“Make it black. Thanks, Jackie.”
He released the button and sat back. Waiting. There was a strong sense of waiting, which made her even edgier after her race to get here. Then he said, “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. Your aunt was a wonderful woman.”
“Yes, she was,” Holly said honestly. “I’m going to miss her.”
“Really,” drawled Cliff.
At that she turned to stare at him. “How would you know? You know nothing.”
“You haven’t been around much.”
That wasn’t true, but again she bit back her retort. This man had no need to know anything, and she wasn’t going to dignify his criticisms with explanations he had no right to.
“Please,” said the lawyer, “let’s be pleasant, shall we?”
Holly was all for pleasant. She was too tired for the spat Cliff apparently wanted. Jackie entered, setting a cup and saucer on the edge of John’s desk in front of Holly. “Thank you.”
Jackie smiled, nodded and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
John leaned forward. “As I told you, Ms. Heflin, your great-aunt made all the arrangements. They’ll be waiting for you at the funeral home after we’re done here. But there are other things we need to discuss.”
“Yes,” she said. There was also one thing she knew for sure, that a visit with a lawyer was supposed to be private. “But what is Mr. Martin doing here? You said I was Martha’s sole heir.”
“He,” said John, “is the executor.”
Holly’s mind whirled. Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was burgeoning grief. All she knew was that she felt as if she had been sideswiped by a Mack truck. “Why not you?” she asked quietly.
“Conflict of interest. And it was your aunt’s decision.”
“Of course.” She was still trying to take this in. She was going to have to deal with a man who had every reason to believe she was hateful? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Still. She reached for the coffee and took a few sips, hoping to assemble her brain into a more orderly pattern than it seemed to be following right now. She noted that her hand trembled, and she quickly put the coffee down.
Deal. The word wafted up. She always dealt. Whatever life threw her way, she was good at it. She’d deal with all of this somehow, from grief to that nasty cowboy.
“I’m going to give you a copy of your aunt’s will to read at your leisure. In the meantime, I’ll just go over the broad aspects here.”
“That’s fine.” She certainly didn’t feel up to dealing with anything detailed.
“You’ve inherited the ranch. It’s free and clear except for the leases. As the law makes clear, those leases to Mr. Martin remain in place, and your aunt’s will states that he is allowed to continue leasing the land at his discretion for the next ten years.”
Holly felt her heart began to sink. That meant she would have to deal with this ghost from her past indefinitely.
“Your aunt was also a very careful woman, and left you a great deal of cash, a quite surprising amount, actually. Mr. Martin has the necessary papers giving him management of the estate, and he’ll take you to the bank to transfer the accounts into your name.”
Holly managed a jerky nod. Nothing seemed to be penetrating except that she was now locked into some kind of long-term relationship with a man she had been avoiding for a long time. A man she had never wanted to see again. Martha had known that. What had possessed her aunt?
“In addition, you’re not allowed to sell the ranch for at least ten years. But your aunt added something to that.”
Holly lifted her head. “Yes?”
“She said to find your dream. I’m not sure what she meant.”
Holly’s heart rose, just a bit. God bless Aunt Martha, even though she didn’t know what her aunt meant. “I’m not sure, either.”
Carstairs shrugged. “Well, that’s what she said, and if it has anything to do with the ranch, she made sure it would be possible for you. So those are the essentials. The rest is mostly legal stuff that you can call me about if you have questions.”
Sooner than she would have believed, she was out of the office and back on the street. Downtown Conard City hadn’t changed in any way she could perceive. It seemed to be cast in amber, preserved and unchanging. It had always charmed her, coming as she did from larger towns and cities, and she paused for a moment to soak it all in. There was a peaceful air to this place that had never failed to draw her during her visits. But since Cliff, she had never wanted to make this her home.
That wasn’t likely to change. She started to turn toward her rental when Cliff’s voice yanked her up short. “The funeral home is the other way.”
She turned. “I know. I’m driving.” What did he care?
“It’s not that far. I’ll see you there then.”
He was going to be there, too? Somehow she had imagined herself quietly putting her aunt to rest. But of course Martha must have had friends. She looked down at herself, at her overworn black sweater and slacks, and wished she had thought this through. Surely she could have dressed better for this?
God, all that had been on her mind was getting out here in time. To do her last act for her beloved great-aunt. She’d raced to find a plane ticket, fought to reserve a rental car that wouldn’t completely impoverish her, put on something black and fled her dingy apartment.
Now she felt as dingy as the streets she had left behind.
She climbed into her
