Chapter Four
February 13th. 2009© 2005 Kimberly J. Fish
An Emerald Marks the Spot
Chapter Four
Kali walked through the pasture leading Brad past the front parking lot of Provencal Farms’ corporate office, a place most people referred to as ‘the barn’. If she had sold a two hundred thousand dollar engagement ring she could have bought more goats, the equipment to produce twice as much cheese. Or hired an assistant, or bought a car. Or done any number of things other than eat a regular diet of macaroni.
“Kali, I have to be honest.” Brad stopped beside his late model truck. “I need the ring for more than just a final comfort for Mom. Once she passes on I plan to sell the emeralds and make some critical improvements to the ranch. It’s either invest now or I have to sell out to my neighbor.”
“But I don’t know how to help you.” Kali leaned against the truck’s sun-warmed hood. “I promise you I put the ring in a box with my graduation memorabilia, but all that got stored in Aunt Annalise’s attic after I moved to Washington. I haven’t seen the box in almost ten years.”
Brad took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “So, the ring’s not really lost, it’s just. . . misplaced?”
Kali thought of the round robin of cousins who’d lived in Annalise’s house over the last several years. “You could say that.”
“Well, what are we waiting for,” he asked, “let’s go to your aunt’s house and find that box.”
Kali’s work calendar flashed before her eyes. Granted basil chevre didn’t seem as pressing as a missing fortune, but if he remembered anything at all about her Brad knew she needed to be eased into things. Spontaneity was not in her DNA. “I can’t get in your truck and drive to San Antonio. I’ve got cheese to produce, buyers to meet, and quite frankly, I need time to process. Seeing you after all these years is not the piece of cake you might have assumed.”
Brad slipped his fingers to circle around her left hand. Lifting her skin to the sunshine, he asked. “Are you married now and just too modern to wear a ring?”
“No, I never married,” she said wishing she could produce a George Strait clone and a handful of children. It would have been nice to suggest she’d not spent the last ten years pining for a dark haired man with eyes like melted chocolate.
“So you missed me.”
She jerked her hand out his grasp. “I’ve been very busy. Romance was low on my priority list.”
“If that’s your story, I’ll buy it.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to start a business out of nothing more than a dream. It’s only been in the last two years that I could even afford to bring in temporary help, so don’t get the big head thinking I’ve wandered listlessly around with a broken heart. Because I haven’t. At all.”
Brad held his hands in self-defense. “I’m willing to admit I’ve always been more sentimental than you.”
Kali knew he was teasing. He used to play the debate game so they’d have a reason to kiss and make-up. “I’ll make a few phone calls,” she suggested as a peace offering. “See if I can find someone who knows where my college stuff might be.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t need to waste your time watching me. I’ll call you when I know something.” She turned walking toward the red door in the middle of a weathered brown barn.
Brad fell into step beside her. “Watching you was always one of my favorite past times. This won’t be a hardship.”
“Don’t you have something better to do? Some cow to buy. A fence to mend.”
“As you pointed out, I’m a day’s drive from home. Might as well mix pleasure with business.”
“Then Lacy can keep you entertained.” Kali jerked the door handle. “I’ve got work to do.”
Brad put his hand over hers. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep a close eye on those phone calls. It’s not that I don’t trust you, entirely, but with this much money at stake I’d hate for you to forget to pass along an important detail.”
Kali felt the sun radiating into her eyes, but it proved little competition for the fire in her soul. “You don’t trust me?”
“We didn’t end on the best of terms and I’d hate to see you inflict a final act of revenge on a poor, dying woman.”
“Brad Williams, I can’t believe you think so little of me to suggest that not only would I sell an heirloom engagement ring, but that I’d hide it from you so I could pocket a fortune.”
“Why not? It’s what you aunt did when she married your uncle for his oil pumps.”
If Brad had slapped her in the face it wouldn’t have stung as much. Annalise’s story wasn’t a pretty one, and she’d battered it even more by telling people she’d married Uncle John for his oil, which as anyone who knew the family understood was an empty prospect. Annalise had lived the rest of her life motivating her nieces to be self-sufficient.
The door pushed open from the other side and Lacy stepped into the sunshine. “Gosh, guys, ever hear of the term ‘discretion’?”
Kali shifted her gaze to her sister, but she still saw red.
Lacy folded her arms over her chest. “And since the county heard your lover’s spat, care to tell me why you have a ring I’ve never heard about?”
Brad folded his arms too as he fixed his gaze on Kali’s colorful face. “You never told your sister about me?”
“It was complicated,” she hissed.
“The tax code is complicated,” Brad said, “love stories are just sad.”
Kali navigated the narrow opening left between her sister and doorway. “I’ve got cheese to ladle.”
Brad stepped out of Kali’s path. Turning to Lacy he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know where Kali stashed her college keepsake box, would you?”
“Kali had a keepsake box?”
Brad sighed. “Never mind. If I’m going to find what I need I’d better go learn how to make cheese.”
“Good luck, Kali’s the high priestess of demanding bosses.” Lacy chuckled. “On the other hand, we haven’t had this much excitement around the farm since. . . never.”
To be continued. . . .