Wild Action (2 page)

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Brown continued. “I only learned about it this morning, when Roger called me.”

“I see. And I assume it involves Ms. Dumont?”

“Yes, it does. It seems your Uncle Gus had Roger prepare a new will a year or so ago. A more recent one, I mean, than the one in my files. I’ve had a look
at it, and there’s no doubt it’s valid. And under its terms, Gus’s estate is to be divided between you and Carly.”

Nick willed Brown to grin and say he was joking. Instead, Harris cleared his throat and said, “Bill, perhaps you’d better make clear
precisely
what the will states.”

“Yes, of course. I was just getting to that. Nick, the division isn’t fifty-fifty. Your uncle left forty-nine percent of his estate to you and fifty-one percent to Carly.”

Nick could feel himself starting to grow numb.

“I’m sorry this is coming as a shock to you,” Carly said quietly. “But until last night, I didn’t know about it myself.”

“You see,” Harris explained, “my practice is in Port Perry, which is the closest town to your uncle’s property. That’s how we knew each other. And when Gus had me draw up the will, he said he didn’t want Carly to know she was a beneficiary while he was alive.”

“But he died on July second,” Nick managed, his voice sounding more than a little strangled. “That was more than two weeks ago.”

“Yes. I only learned about his death last night, though. I’d been out of town.”

“And I’d called Bill right away, because he’s the company lawyer,” Carly put in. “Gus’s
only
lawyer, as far as I knew.”

“As far as I knew, too,” Brown said. “Which is why I didn’t hesitate about contacting Nick,” he added, glancing at Harris and looking darned put out that Gus had gotten himself a second lawyer.

“Any of us would have contacted the beneficiary
right away,” Harris told him. “In any event,” he continued, focusing on Nick, “as soon as I got home and learned Gus had died, I advised Carly of the existence of the new will.”

“I tried to reach you this morning, Nick, after Roger phoned me,” Brown said. “But you must have already been on your way to Toronto.”

Their explanation complete, the other three sat watching him while he sat trying to think straight. But he couldn’t think past the fact that fifty-one percent of the estate belonged to Carly Dumont. And a controlling interest would give her the right to call the shots.

He looked at Brown. “You said this other will is definitely valid?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then why didn’t Gus tell you about it?”

“There’s no law that says he had to. Or maybe he meant to and forgot. He tended to be absentminded.”

“But definitely of
sound
mind,” Harris said quickly. “No doubt about that. He was sharp as a tack, right Carly? And he seemed in good health, too.”

She nodded. “He was just fine on July first. We went to a Canada Day party and he was dancing up a storm. But…”

Pausing, she wiped away a tear. “I don’t know whether it was too much sun or all the exertion or what, but he wasn’t feeling well before he went to bed. And in the morning…When I tried to wake him, he was gone.”

“A heart attack in his sleep,” Brown elaborated.

“You tried to wake him?” Nick said. “You mean you lived with him?”

“Uh-huh. For twelve years.”

Nick gazed at her, wondering if his parents had known that Gus was into cradle robbing along with all his other sins. Then he forced his thoughts back to the problem at hand and tried to convince himself this wasn’t a total calamity.

After all, it was only half of his inheritance that had vanished overnight, whereas Gus’s new will might have left
everything
to Carly. Besides, with any luck, his forty-nine percent would be more than he needed.

Glancing at her again, he forced a smile.

When she tentatively smiled back, it made him feel a little better. She seemed like a reasonable woman, so how hard could it be to work things out?

Carly felt herself starting to breathe more easily. She was still up to her ears in problems, of course, but at least Nick Montgomery wasn’t turning out to be an additional one.

On the way here, she’d let her imagination run rampant, picturing him as an enormous dragon who’d kill her by breathing fireballs when he heard he was only getting part of the estate.

In reality, he was a good-looking man—with a very nice smile and rugged features that made his appearance decidedly masculine. And even though he was clearly upset, she couldn’t see any homicidal impulses dancing in his gray eyes.

“Let’s lay our cards on the table,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and meeting her gaze. “I have absolutely no interest in the fashion industry, so the best thing all around would be for you to buy me out.”

She glanced at Roger. When he seemed as puzzled
as she was, she looked at Nick once more. “The fashion industry?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t know a fashion trend from a snowplow, so—”

“Wait. You mean you’ve been thinking that Wild Action’s in the fashion business?”

“Ahh…You’re saying it’s not?”

“Nick?” Bill said before she could answer. “There are so many movies shot in Toronto that it’s known as Hollywood North. It masquerades as New York, Chicago, Detroit, you name it.”

“It’s cheaper to film here because of our low dollar,” Roger added.

“At any rate,” Bill continued, “Wild Action is an animal talent agency that supplies animal actors.”

Carly watched Nick digest that information, feeling distinctly sorry for him. His expression said he’d just as soon have inherited half a leper colony.

“Do you know much about animals?” she asked when nobody else broke the silence.

“I see a lot of the neighbor’s cat,” he muttered.

She glanced at the scratch on his hand. It made her suspect he and the cat weren’t the best of friends.

“Actually, when I was a kid I used to spend part of the summers on a ranch,” he went on. “So I know something about horses and cattle. That’s really it, though. But I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of business it is. Your buying me out is still the simplest way of settling things.”

“Yes…it would be. If I had any money.”

“Well, there must be money in the company, so if we—”

“No, I’m afraid there’s not,” she interrupted, hoping the fact wouldn’t reflect too badly on Gus. There
probably should have been a lot more money than there was, but he’d always said money was for spending.

“But if it’s profitable…” Nick said. “I don’t have that wrong, too, do I? I was told it was.”

“And it is. It’s just not
very
profitable. We have a lot of expenses.”

“What? More than a million bucks’ worth?”

“Well, Gus was always trying to expand and improve. You know, replace old equipment, upgrade the facilities. Just this spring, we built a big new aviary for the owls.”

“We have owls,” Nick said dully.

“Uh-huh, and some other birds of prey. At any rate, between improvements and the day-to-day expenses… The bear’s food alone costs over a thousand dollars a month.”

Nick’s face went pale beneath his tan. “A bear? What kind of bear?”

“Oh, just a little black bear.”

Roger snorted. “You call Attila little? Hell, Gus told me he was pushing six hundred pounds.”

“Well…yes, I guess he
is
on the large side for a black bear,” Carly admitted, wishing Nick wasn’t looking more upset by the second. “I just meant he’s not a grizzly or anything
really
big.”

“And his name’s Attila?” Nick said. “As in Attila the Hun?”

“Yes, but he’s actually a sweetie. His only drawback is that he
does
eat up a fair bit of the revenue.”

“So to speak,” Nick said dryly.

“Yes…so to speak.” She smiled, surprised he could joke under the circumstances.

He eyed her for a long moment, then said, “Do we own a swamp full of alligators, too?”

She eyed him back, not entirely sure whether she found his sense of humor amusing or annoying. “If a movie’s set in a swamp, nobody’s going to shoot it in Canada,” she said at last. “So having alligators would be rather foolish. But getting back to the point I was making, the bottom line is that there’s no money. The company’s entire cash reserves would barely buy you a ticket home to Edmonton.”

Nick rubbed his jaw, looking even more unhappy. “Then do you know anyone who’d be interested in buying my forty-nine percent?”

She shook her head.

“I expect finding an investor would take time,” Roger said. “People are leery of getting into minority ownership positions. Besides which, Wild Action isn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill sort of business.”

“What about mortgaging the property?” Bill Brown suggested.

Roger gave him a quizzical glance. “It’s already mortgaged to the hilt. Did Gus forget to mention that, too?”

Carly glanced at Bill, wishing Gus had kept him better informed. The man was obviously not pleased that Roger kept handing him surprises.

“We took out the mortgage when we had a chance to buy a new trailer for Attila,” she explained. “We desperately needed one to get him to shoot sites, but it cost a small fortune. And Gus said that as long as we were taking out a mortgage anyway, we might as well make it big enough to build the new aviary and fix up a few other things.

“But look,” she continued, focusing on Nick,
“I’m really sorry things aren’t the way you expected them to be. I feel badly about the whole situation.”

He exhaled slowly. She couldn’t feel anywhere near as bad as he did. But it wasn’t
her
fault there was a new will. And he’d
known
bad news came in threes, so if he’d used his brain, he wouldn’t have been so damn quick about quitting his job. Then this situation wouldn’t be such a disaster.

“Nick?” Brown said. “Lawyers are always coming across people who want to invest in a business. So if both Roger and I keep an eye out, sooner or later we’ll find someone to buy your share.”

Sooner or later.
Nick had no doubt it would be later rather than sooner, and what the hell was he going to do in the meantime? Or maybe he should be more concerned about what was going to happen to the company in the meantime. Carly might have been Gus’s right hand, but that didn’t guarantee she could run things herself.

“Carly?” he said. “Are you going to be able to manage the business on your own?”

She shook her head. “I’ve found a high school kid to help out for the moment, but I’ll have to get somebody who knows more about animals. And hopefully has a head for business.”

“Absolutely,” Harris agreed. “And fast. You couldn’t possibly handle everything yourself even if you didn’t have the Get Real people practically on your front porch.”

“The Get Real people?” Nick said.

Carly looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he had to ask. “Get Real Productions. An up-and-coming player in L.A. Gus landed us a film contract
not long ago—for a film directed by Jay Wall, no less. And Get Real is providing the financing.”

Nick nodded. He didn’t have a clue who Jay Wall was, but he could do without another of Carly’s “Did you just crawl out of a cave?” looks.

“They’ve already been filming in Toronto for a week,” she went on. “So any day now, Jay’s going to decide he wants to start shooting the wilderness scenes.

“This was supposed to be our big break,” she added. “Gus said that if a director like Jay Wall was happy with our animals, the sky would be the limit But now…”

“But now?” Nick prompted, the uncertainty in her voice making him nervous.

“Well, it’s still the limit. And this movie will really help with the bottom line. Gus negotiated a great fee for the animals,
plus
Jay’s doing a lot of the shooting on our land and we’ll get paid for that So Wild Action will have cash in the bank—assuming things go well.”

“You mean we won’t get paid if they don’t?”

“Well…if we don’t fulfill our end of the contract… If the animals didn’t perform well enough or something.”

“Is that a real possibility?”

Carly shrugged uneasily. “I’m afraid that with Gus gone there are some problems. And if Jay
doesn ’t
end up happy, not getting all our money for the film wouldn’t be our only worry. He’s the type who’d go out of his way to ensure Wild Action’s name was mud.”

That possibility was enough to make Nick break into a cold sweat. He owned forty-nine percent of
land that was mortgaged to the hilt and a company that might self-destruct if Carly didn’t please some hotshot director.

If that happened, forty-nine percent of Wild Action would probably be worth about a dollar and a quarter.

“But if you
do
make Jay happy?” he said.

“It would open the door to more Hollywood deals, and Wild Action would have so much money coming in that you wouldn’t have to look for a buyer. I’d be able to buy you out in no time.”

Which meant, Nick realized, the only intelligent thing for him to do was help make Jay Wall as happy as hell. And if that required a stint of playing zookeeper…

The prospect sure wasn’t appealing, but it seemed like the only sensible solution. Of course, he had to move at the end of the month, but he could always get some of his buddies to put his things in storage for a while.

“How long will this movie take?” he asked Carly.

“It’s hard to be sure. When Jay’s on location he shoots every day—assuming the weather’s right for the scenes. But the animals don’t always cooperate, and without Gus…

“But if things go right, they shouldn’t be filming on our property for more than a month or so.”

Nick nodded, his decision made. He could stand anything if it was only for a month or so. Besides, he assumed that if you weren’t pretty hard-nosed, those Hollywood types would walk all over you. And after a couple of looks into Carly’s big brown eyes, he figured she was about as tough as a marshmallow.

“What if I stuck around for a while?” he suggested. “As a working partner. That would get you
through this movie and let you look for someone to hire.”

“You could do that? What about your job?”

He shrugged. Damned if he was going to admit he’d been such an idiot yesterday. “I’m sure I could work out some kind of leave.”