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 a good sign that this one had been mailed directly to him instead of going through the newspaper. He read the return address.
Miss Abigail Bowen
777 Grant Street
Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado.
Just where Hot Mineral Springs was in Colorado, he didn’t know. Didn’t matter. Going out west to see the rugged Rocky Mountains he’d heard so much about from his friends and their travels was something he’d always wanted to do. Now he just might get that chance.
He pressed his hand to his aching, nervous gut, and drew in a deep breath, blowing it out long and slow as he broke the seal off the envelope, and slipped the letter from its pouch.
Dear Mr. Kingsley,
From what you have said in your posts regarding the stipulation in your father’s will, it sounds like this business arrangement would be as advantageous for you as it would be for me. Therefore, after much consideration, I have decided to offer you the first chance at this opportunity.
Please let me know what you decide as soon as possible so I can let the other gentlemen who responded to my advertisement know your decision.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Abigail Bowen
Harrison paused and gazed at nothing in particular in the large office decorated only with the finest of furnishings. This whole arrangement was almost too good to be true. Either that or it was just crazy enough to work.
The way he saw it, this was his only chance to get the inheritance he needed to secure his twins’ future. And since no other prospect had presented itself, he had no other choice but to give Miss Bowen’s dinner theater prospect, something she had mentioned in one of her previous letters, a try. What money he had saved from working for his father wouldn’t go far if he didn’t find a way to secure at least his position in his father’s businesses, if not the outright inheritance.
It would also enable him to fulfill his lifelong goal to right the wrongs his father had done to the fine people in Boston, and to restore the Kingsley name to what it had once been.
The discovery of his father’s true legacy still pained him greatly. It was after the death of his mother that his father had changed so drastically. He’d become a bitter, angry, vindictive man with no scruples when it came to business. Every time Harrison thought of the things his father had done, how he had cheated those poor people out of their businesses and their homes, his stomach churned with sorrow and disgust. Like now. The only way to take care of those matters would be to take Miss Bowen up on her offer, and then come back to take over the helm and set things right.
Rather than take the risk of his post to Miss Bowen getting lost in the mail and her taking on another partner, he decided to go a faster route. He would send a telegram and head out west immediately.
He quickly penned a short telegraph message and reached over and pulled the string, ringing for his butler.
Forsyth stepped into his office and stopped in front of the expansive desk, his posture stiff as a wooden plank, his black suit and white shirt pressed to perfection, his white gloves immaculate. “What may I do for you, sir?”
“Have Staimes pack my clothes. Tell him we’ll be going out of town for a couple of months or so. Let Miss Elderberry know, too, so she can pack for her and the boys. I’ll need you to take care of things here while I’m gone.” Harrison handed his trusted butler, who never revealed or spoke of Harrison’s affairs with anyone, a folded slip of paper. “Send this telegram out immediately and purchase tickets on the next train heading to Hot Mineral Springs, Colorado.”
“Yes, Mr. Kingsley. Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I will take care of this immediately.”
“I know you will. Thank you, Forsyth.”
“You’re quite welcome.” With that, the aging man who’d served his father well, and now him, turned and left the room.
The
