Summer Days (3 page)

May patted his arm. “You’re sweet to worry, Rafe, but I’ll be fine. I’ve wanted to return to the ranch ever since we lost it nearly twenty years ago. I belong there. Seeing it was magical. I want to make it into a home. Everything is going to work out. You’ll see.”

He didn’t doubt he would win in court. Dante would see to that. But there was a long, dusty road between winning and everything working out. His mother had a way of complicating a situation.

“I want to go visit Glen in jail,” she announced as he took her suitcase into the suite’s bedroom.

“Exhibit A,” he murmured, watching the first of the complications manifest.

“I feel badly that he’s there.” Her warm gaze cooled. “You didn’t have to call the police.”

“He was breaking the law.”

“I know and I appreciate that you were also looking out for me, but I think we should find another way.”

With luck, his room would have a minibar, he thought grimly. Then he wouldn’t even have to go downstairs.

“Glen is fine.”

“You don’t know that. I’m going to see him.”

He recognized stubborn, mostly because he’d inherited it from her. “Give me a half hour to check in with the office and I’ll come get you. We’ll go together.”

The smile returned. “Thank you.”

Sure, now that she was getting her way she smiled. He promised to be back in thirty minutes, then escaped to his own room at the end of the hall.

He used the card key and stepped into the quiet, mother-free space. The room faced the mountains, and the drapes were parted enough for him to see the Sierra Nevada peaks aiming for the heavens.

He walked into the bedroom, tossed his duffel on the king-size bed, then returned to the living room of the suite and removed his tie. Instead of searching for the minibar, he grabbed his cell phone and called his office.

“Mr. Stryker’s office,” his businesslike assistant answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Ms. Jennings.”

“Mr. Stryker. You’re in Fool’s Gold with your mother?”

“Yes, and it looks like I’m going to be here awhile.”

“I gathered that when Mr. Jefferson mentioned he would be joining you. It’s a lovely town.”

Rafe felt his eyebrows rise. Ms. Jennings never mentioned anything personal. He wasn’t sure if the woman was married, a grandmother or living with a rock band.

“You’ve visited?”

“Several times. They have wonderful festivals.”

There was no accounting for taste, he thought. “I’ll have to check them out.”

“I can send you a schedule. It’s on the city’s website,
www.FoolsGoldCA.com.
”

“Uh, not right now, but thanks for the offer. I’m going to need you to rearrange my calendar. Cancel what isn’t important and reschedule everything else.”

There was a pause when Rafe knew she was taking notes.

“Not a problem,” she told him. “I’m checking the next two weeks now, and it’s all things I can handle. Except for your meeting with Nina Blanchard.”

Rafe sank onto the sofa and held in a curse. “I’ll call her myself.”

“Of course.”

They finished the rest of their business, then hung up. Rafe returned to the bedroom, quickly changed out of his suit, into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, then shrugged on his leather jacket.

He couldn’t avoid Nina Blanchard forever, he thought. After all, he was the one who had hired her. But there was no way he could take advantage of her services while he was in Fool’s Gold. She was going to have to wait until he’d solved the problem that was his mother.

* * *

A
FTER
LEAVING
F
OOL
’
S
G
OLD
,
Rafe had been determined to experience what the world had to offer. He’d gone to Harvard on a scholarship, had toured Europe and made friends with the rich and powerful. But he’d never been to jail before.

While he was sure they all looked somewhat similar, he had a feeling the Fool’s Gold jail was considered one of the better places to be incarcerated.

For one thing, instead of industrial colors, the walls were a warm yellow, trimmed in cream. Bright posters advertised the festivals his assistant so adored. Rather than inhaling the scent of cleaning supplies or something less pleasant, Rafe smelled chili and fresh-baked bread. The woman who signed them in to visit Glen was young and friendly, not the grim-faced officer usually found in the movies.

“We’ve been busy tonight,” Officer Rodriguez said. Her shiny, dark hair was pulled back into a bouncy ponytail.

Rafe studied the hairstyle. Weren’t ponytails a bad idea in law enforcement? Didn’t they give criminals something to grab on to, thereby giving them physical control of the situation? Or was Fool’s Gold so close to nirvana that they didn’t deal with serious crime here?

“Glen Simpson is a very popular man.” Officer Rodriquez grinned. “The town’s averages are getting better, but there’s still a shortage for our ladies of a certain age, and Glen’s a charmer.”

May signed the clipboard. “What averages?”

“We had a man shortage. The news about that all came out last year, and it was a mess. The media came crawling in, and there was a reality show here and everything.”

“I think I remember that,” his mother said thoughtfully. “
True Love or Fool’s Gold.
It went off the air before it was finished.”

“No one was watching, which is too bad. I thought it was good. Anyway, since word got out about our man shortage, we’ve been getting plenty of them moving in. Which has made my life more interesting.” Her brown eyes sparkled. “But most of them have been younger. So when Glen came, he was considered hot stuff. He’s only been in jail a few hours, and we’ve already had six…” She glanced at the clipboard.
“…make that seven visitors for him.”

May looked uneasy. “I assure you, I’m not here on any romantic mission. I wanted to make sure Glen, ah, Mr. Simpson, was all right.” She leaned toward the officer and lowered her voice. “My son’s the one who put him in jail.”

“Way to be supportive, Mom.”

“We could have worked things out.”

“Not if you planned to get your money back.”

May’s expression tightened, a sure sign she was getting her stubborn on. He held up both hands. “You’re right. We’ll check on him. It’s the right thing to do.”

He resisted glancing at his watch, confident they would be back at the hotel long before the bar closed.

Officer Rodriguez led them down a long, brightly lit hallway, then through a set of double doors. The delicious smells grew more intense, reminding Rafe he hadn’t had lunch and it was closing in on dinner time.

“Here we are,” the officer said, pulling open another door and motioning for them to enter. “Glen, you have more visitors.”

Rafe’s only experience with jail came from what he’d seen on TV and in the movies. So he wasn’t sure where Fool’s Gold stood on the “grim” spectrum. But nothing had prepared him for Glen’s current living conditions.

The old man lay stretched out in his cell. There was the requisite cot, although this one was covered with a beautiful quilt, and there were at least a dozen pillows propped up on the bed. A brightly colored rug covered most of the floor. Flowers spilled from vases, and TV trays served as tables.

Just outside the barred front, a large, flat-screen TV sat on a stand. The sound of an action movie spilled into the space. A long shelf to the side of the television served as a kind of buffet. Nearly a dozen covered dishes and Crock-Pots stood waiting to serve. There were pies, cakes and cookies.

“You!”

Rafe turned and saw the police chief marching toward him. “Ma’am?”

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me,” she growled, grabbing his arm in a steely grip and dragging him back into the hallway.

“This is your fault,” she snapped, when they were alone. “Don’t think you’re not in trouble.”

Police Chief Barns might only come up to his shoulder, but there was something about her stance that warned him she wasn’t going to take any lip.

“What are you talking about?”

“That man.” She pointed back at the door leading to the jail cells.

“If he’s a problem,” he began, only to have her glare at him. It was a good glare—better than his assistant’s.

“Oh, there’s a problem, but it’s not coming from him. It’s those women. Do you know how many have visited here?”

“Six?” he asked, remembering there had been seven according to Officer Rodriguez, and he assumed his mother was in that count.

“Six,” the police chief confirmed. “They’re showing up here with their food and blankets. One brought that damn television. Another dragged in a foam mattress cover. We wouldn’t want our detainees to feel uncomfortable while they sleep, would we?”

“I’m not sure how this is my fault.”

“You made me arrest him.” She poked him in the chest. “Make it go away, or I swear I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“We’re going to court in the morning.”

“Good. The last thing I want is a bunch of civilians treating my jail like a church social. When the judge asks if you mind if Glen is released on his own recognizance, you better say no. You hear me?”

Rafe thought about pointing out that she was breaking more than a few laws with this conversation. That he had the right to request Glen be held until trial. But where was the win? Until the situation was resolved, he was stuck in town. His mother wanted to make her home here, on that damned ranch. Having the police chief as an enemy wouldn’t help either of their causes.

“I’ll have a word with my attorney,” he told her.

“That’s all I ask.” She drew in a breath, then released it slowly. “I swear, if someone else shows up with a Crock-Pot, there’s going to be blood.”

CHAPTER THREE

H
EIDI
SAT
UNEASILY
in the courtroom, Glen’s friend Harvey next to her. She’d never been to court before—had never even received a parking ticket. She found herself wanting to fidget or run. The judge, a tall, thin woman draped in black robes, intimidated her more than she wanted to admit. The bailiff was equally authoritarian in her uniform. There was an air of hushed expectation, with excited murmurs from those watching.

Her gaze slid from where Glen and Trisha Wynn were having a quiet conversation to the other table. Rafe Stryker sat next to an equally powerful-looking man. They were both dressed in navy suits, with white shirts and red ties, but the similarities ended there. Rafe was all dark—dark hair, dark eyes and a dark scowl. He surveyed the room unhappily, as if annoyed he had to be bothered with something as insignificant as this. Although, according to Glen’s lawyer, May Stryker had “bought” the ranch with her son, which meant Rafe was an equal party in the complaint.

The other man had blond hair and killer blue eyes. He was pretty enough to make even Heidi notice, despite her distraction over the proceedings. When she looked at Rafe, she felt a clenching in the pit of her stomach—something that didn’t happen when she glanced at his lawyer.

Trisha turned and motioned for Heidi to lean forward.

“Dante Jefferson,” she whispered, pointing to Rafe’s friend. “I know him by reputation, although I wouldn’t mind getting to know him in other ways.”

Heidi blinked in surprise. Dante was young enough to be Trisha’s son. Not that she was going to judge, she told herself. Trisha was working the case for free.

“Is he good?”

Trisha’s amused expression tightened. “The best. He’s not just Rafe’s lawyer. They’re also business partners. Successful business partners. Between them, they’ve made enough money to rival the GDP of a midsize country.”

Heidi pressed her hand to her churning stomach. “Is Glen going to prison?”

“Not if I can help it. It will depend on the judge.” She turned her attention to Harvey. “You ready?”

The old man nodded. “I’m here for Glen, just like he was there for me.” He gave a wink.

“Good. The judge will want to speak to you,” Trisha told him. “Be honest. Just say what happened.”

“I will.”

Heidi could only hope it was enough.

She glanced around the court as Trisha returned her attention to Glen. May Stryker caught Heidi’s eye. Rafe’s mother gave her a little wave and a smile. Heidi wasn’t sure what to make of that. May was the reason Glen was in trouble.

No, Heidi reminded herself. Glen was the reason he was in trouble. He’d knowingly swindled May out of a lot of money. Only he’d done it to help Harvey, which complicated everything.

She wanted to be furious with her grandfather, but she couldn’t get past the fear pressing down on her. In the next few minutes, they could lose everything. The home she’d been so desperate to have, her precious goats and every cent they had. Then what? Where would they go? She’d only ever wanted to belong somewhere, and now that might be taken from her.

Judge Loomis took off her reading glasses. “I’ve reviewed the material. Ms. Wynn, you’re representing Mr. Simpson pro bono?”

Glen’s lawyer rose. “Yes, Your Honor. I was so moved by his case, I had to help.”

“So noted.”

The fear of losing everything forced Heidi to her feet. “Your Honor?”

The judge looked at her disapprovingly. Trisha groaned.

“I’m Heidi Simpson,” Heidi said quickly. “May I speak?”

The judge glanced at the paperwork in front of her, then turned back to Heidi. “As this is your ranch we’re talking about, all right. What do you have to say, Ms. Simpson?”

Heidi looked at Trisha, who rolled her eyes. Heidi was aware of everyone looking at her.

She was used to drawing a crowd. She’d grown up with her grandfather traveling with the carnival, working various games and helping out with the animals. She knew how to entice people to play the ring toss or gather around while she performed various card tricks. But that was expected attention. She planned for it, knew what to say. This was different—mostly because so much was at stake.

Heidi ignored the shaking that began in her thighs and radiated out. She willed herself to be strong, to rise to the occasion and find the words to impress the judge.

“I’m not happy to be here,” Heidi admitted, meeting the judge’s neutral gaze. “But I’m glad Harvey is alive.” She glanced at her grandfather’s friend and smiled. “I’ve known Harvey since I was a little girl. He’s a part of my extended family. When he came to Glen, he was dying. Now he’s healthy, and my grandfather made that possible. As much as I love my home, I can’t value it above a person’s life.”

Rafe snorted. His lawyer hushed him.

Heidi found herself staring at the ruthless businessman. “Not everything can be reduced to a dollar value,” she said. “My grandfather was wrong to try to sell Mrs. Stryker the ranch and wrong to take the money. But he didn’t do it lightly or without a really good reason. He was helping someone who is like a brother to him.”

Heidi shifted her gaze back to the judge, but was unable to figure out what she was thinking.

Heidi continued. “The ranch is everything I’ve ever wanted in a home. I raise goats, Your Honor. I have a small herd of eight. I use the milk to produce cheese and soap. I also sell the goat milk to a few people in town. It’s not a big business. It supports me and my grandfather. He took me in when my parents died. He took care of me and loved me, and now I want to be here for him. I’m taking responsibility for what my grandfather did. We’re willing to work out some kind of payment plan with Mrs. Stryker.”

“You’ll put everything on the line for your grandfather,” the judge said slowly. “I see. But you don’t have the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“No.”

“The property is mortgaged?”

Trisha rose. “Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor. I have the paperwork for the mortgage right here.”

The judge nodded.

Trisha took the folder to her, then returned to her seat next to Glen. Heidi waited anxiously while the judge flipped through the pages, scanning them quickly. When she was done, she looked up, over her reading glasses.

“In today’s financial climate, it’s unlikely you could get much of a second mortgage. By my calculations, it would cover less than twenty percent of what your grandfather took from Mrs. Stryker.”

Heidi stared at the judge, not knowing what to say. Another mortgage? Where was she supposed to come up with the money for that?

“How much of the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars do you have now?” the judge asked. “In cash?”

Heidi thought of her savings account and swallowed. “Two thousand, five hundred dollars.”

Several people watching whispered. Heidi felt herself flush.

Rafe’s lawyer stood. “Your Honor, we’re all clear on how wonderfully virtuous it is that Ms. Simpson loves her grandfather, and of course she wants to pay back the money. But Glen Simpson stole from my clients. He took advantage of May Stryker’s advanced years and business inexperience to swindle her out of a significant amount of money.”

“Advanced years?” May said, loud enough for several people to hear. “I’m not in my dotage.”

“Sit down, Mr. Jefferson,” the judge told him. “You’ll get your turn.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” The lawyer returned to his seat, but he looked more pleased than offended by the request.

Heidi wished Rafe and his friend were a lot more worried.

The judge glanced down at her notes, then back at Heidi. “You may be seated, Ms. Simpson. Am I correct in assuming the man next to you is Harvey, your grandfather’s friend?”

She nodded.

The judge asked Harvey to stand and listened while he detailed how he’d learned of his cancer and the fairly straightforward treatment that would give him many more years of life. But as he wasn’t old enough to qualify for Medicare and had never made enough to afford insurance, he was helpless to pay for the cure. Glen had been the one to come through with the money, and now Harvey was cancer-free.

Glen was questioned next. He spoke a little about his history and his intentions. To Heidi, he sounded like an itinerant gambler with a heart of gold. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Her grandfather had always made decisions without thinking about the consequences—he’d just as easily invited Heidi into his life, and his love had certainly outweighed his occasional irresponsibility. Finally, Rafe’s lawyer rose.

He turned to Harvey. “I’m glad you’re better,” he said. “Good health is a blessing.”

Harvey nodded.

Dante faced the judge. “Your Honor, it appears much of this case is about what
home
means. For Ms. Simpson and her grandfather, the ranch is a dream come true. But it’s also that for Mrs. Stryker. Thirty years ago, she and her husband came to Fool’s Gold to work at the Castle Ranch. Her husband was to manage the ranch, while May took care of Mr. Castle and raised their children. A few years later, May’s husband was killed, leaving her alone with three small boys.”

Heidi knew what was coming and realized it was nearly as sympathy-inducing as Harvey’s recovery. Not good news for her.

“May continued to work as the housekeeper, but, without her husband’s salary, money was tight. Mr. Castle was not a generous man, and the working conditions were difficult, but May hung on. You see, Mr. Castle had promised to will her the ranch when he died. But he lied, and when he passed, the ranch went to distant relatives back east. Crushed, May took her young family to Los Angeles and found work there. But she never forgot the Castle Ranch. When she learned it was for sale, she was finally going to reclaim what had been denied her. But once again, the ranch was snatched from her. This time by a thief.”

Dante paused to point to Glen. Heidi was more concerned by his words than his theatrical gestures. Even though she had no part in the past or Glen’s actions, she still felt horrible and guilty, as if she’d done something wrong.

“Dante, stop it!” May rose. “Your Honor, can I say something?”

The judge threw up her hands. “Well, everyone else has had a chance to speak today. Go ahead, Mrs. Stryker.”

Rafe stood. “Mom, this isn’t the time.”

“It is exactly the time. I know you’re a successful businessman and winning is everything to you, but I don’t like any of this. Yes, of course, there’s the money, but I don’t want Heidi and her grandfather turned out. I know exactly what it feels like to lose a home. We need to work something out. All of us. A compromise.”

May turned to Heidi. “We could share it. I’m not sure exactly how, but you seem reasonable, and I want this to work.”

“Me, too,” Heidi murmured.

“Good.” May faced the judge. “Heidi has the most lovely goats. She needs a place to run her business.”

“You do realize Glen Simpson stole two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from you,” the judge said.

“Of course, but Heidi mentioned a payment plan. I’m open to that.”

“She doesn’t have the means,” Dante said. “Your Honor, she admitted she has twenty-five hundred dollars. My client isn’t interested in a payment plan that takes us into the next millennium. As he signed the documents, as well, he should have an equal say in what happens.”

The judge nodded slowly. “Yes, I see, Mr. Jefferson. But I’m surprised that a successful businessman such as your client didn’t realize the deal was a sham before he signed.”

Dante muttered something under his breath. “He was busy, Your Honor.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Are you saying your client didn’t read the documents in question?”

“No, he did not.”

“Caveat emptor, Mr. Jefferson,” the judge said.

Trisha turned and whispered, “Let the buyer beware. It’s Latin.”

Heidi wanted to believe that the judge was on their side, but she had a feeling that she was reading too much into the exchange. With so much on the line, hope seemed painfully naive.

Judge Loomis leaned back in her large leather chair and removed her reading glasses.

“Mr. Stryker, despite your legal claim, am I correct in assuming this is truly your mother’s property?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded slowly. She glanced at May, who stood with her hands clasped.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” the judge said at last. “While Mr. Simpson took a significantly large sum of money, I believe it was with good intentions. Not an excuse, Mr. Simpson,” she added sternly.

Glen lowered his chin. “You are so right, ma’am.”

“Ms. Simpson, your willingness to help your grandfather is admirable but, twenty-five hundred dollars isn’t going to cut it.”

Heidi swallowed. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Stryker, you’re a businessman who signed a contract without reading it. You deserve what you get.”

Heidi saw Rafe’s jaw muscle clench, but he didn’t speak.

“Mrs. Stryker, you seem the most injured party here, yet you’re the one who counsels forgiveness and compromise. You have given my somewhat cynical spirit a good dose of hope. I admire you and will therefore consider the merits of this case from your point of view.”

Heidi wasn’t sure what that meant, but wondered if it was possible they weren’t going to lose everything.

“The easiest answer is to put Mr. Simpson in jail, order him to stand trial, or plead out and be done with it. For you, Mrs. Stryker, I’m willing to consider other options. I would like to do some research on precedence for a case like this. Unfortunately, my schedule is fully booked right now, and my law clerk is getting married next week and then going on her honeymoon. So she isn’t available, either.”

The judge considered for a moment. “There is also the matter of the bank loan. Would they be willing to transfer the note to Mrs. Stryker and her son? While I doubt that would be a problem, they do need to be consulted. As you are all aware, banks can be notoriously slow in responding to this kind of thing.”

She paused, then smiled slightly. “All right, Mrs. Stryker, you shall have your compromise. You and your son will share the property with Ms. Simpson and her grandfather. You will in essence co-own it, at least for now. We will continue to work from our end, speaking with the bank and researching the case. In the meantime, Ms. Simpson, I suggest you do all you can to raise the money owed Mrs. Stryker. Legally, of course.”