A Place to Call Home (Harlequin Heartwarming) (12 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

B
ECCA
WAS
WAITING
for him on the swing that hung from the old pecan tree. Brandon saw that Uncle Jake had gone all-out, with his best pitcher full of ice water and real glasses on the rickety table between the swing and the glider.

“You look plenty hot and tired,” Becca said by way of greeting. “Can I interest you in a glass of your uncle’s ice water?”

“I believe you can,” Brandon said. He crossed over to the pitcher and poured himself a tall, cold glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uncle Jake leaning back in the glider.

“Good of you to come join us,” his uncle said with just the slightest hint of sarcasm. “I know you been busy the whole day on that fence.”

Brandon didn’t respond right away, just took another swallow of water. Bringing the glass down from his mouth, he realized his uncle was still waiting for his reply.

“Yes, sir,” he said simply.

“Don’t know why you’re fooling with that thing anyway,” Uncle Jake went on, “not with us needing to get that winter wheat in the ground and them strawberry plants in, too. Time’d be better spent on planting, not tearing down a fence that wasn’t bothering nobody.”

“Uncle Jake, you know planting will go a lot quicker if I don’t have to contend with that fence.”

“Right, right, especially if you have to stop twice a day to help me get the hogs back in their pen after they’ve wandered off into Penelope’s yard.”

Brandon’s suspicion that Uncle Jake had sent Geraldine on a mission was confirmed by the glint in the old man’s eyes. He knew he could expect the hogs to be out every day until he settled this fence business once and for all.

Before he could say anything, though, Uncle Jake posed one more observation. “I guess you
did
get permission from Penelope before you started vandalizing her property, what with you being a sheriff’s deputy and knowing the law and whatnot.”

Brandon looked over at Becca, who was trying in vain not to laugh at Uncle Jake’s doggedness.

“She knows,” he said, not elaborating.

“Well, now, that’s good, that’s real good.” Uncle Jake took a swig of his water and beamed at first Brandon and then Becca. “I knew my nephew wasn’t the trespassing type. Don’t know why I spent the morning worrying about it. Guess we can concentrate on what news you’ve brought us, Becca.”

Becca set her glass down on the table. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

“Bad,” Brandon said.

“Good,” his uncle said at the same time. He grinned up at Brandon. “Makes the medicine go down.”

Becca laughed. “I suppose, since you fellows can’t seem to agree, I get to choose which I tell you first. Brandon, do sit down. It will take a while.”

Brandon hesitated, then dropped into the glider beside his uncle.

When he had settled, Becca said, “Good news first. I’m with your uncle—it does make the medicine go down. I got confirmation today, this very morning, that the Georgia Department of Revenue is starting an official investigation into the billing and collecting practices of Melton, our fine and oh-so-scrupulous tax commissioner. And the investigation will go back several years to cover the time span where you were double-billed, Uncle Jake. Melton’s in some mighty hot water.”

Uncle Jake let out a whoop. “Now if that don’t prove what I always say, what goes around comes around! Becca, if you weren’t a married woman—and to that big, strappin’ Ryan MacIntosh—I’d kiss you!”

She grinned. “It’s like any present, sir—it’s the thought that counts.”

Brandon barely heard the exchange. Unlike his uncle, he was reserving judgment. It was one thing for the crooked tax commissioner to finally get his comeuppance, but did that help Brandon get his uncle’s land back? Becca had, after all, mentioned bad news.

“Okay, so that’s the good news,” he told her.

“Brandon, that ain’t good news, that’s great news! I told that sapsucker Melton that he’d be sorry, and I’ll bet he’s sorry now.” Uncle Jake offered up his glass to Becca, who fetched her glass and clinked it against his.

Sobering, she settled back in the swing. “All right, Brandon, I know you’re fit to be tied, wanting to know what the bad news is. So here goes.”

Brandon bit a knuckle as he waited on her.

She didn’t dally around. “First of all, you know how long I’ve been hot-sticking these guys with the revenue department. Since the sheriff’s sale that forced Mee-Maw out of her house. It wasn’t until after the second auction, the one where Murphy’s creditors liquidated everything and I was able to buy back Mee-Maw’s farm—”

“And Penelope was able to outbid me for Uncle Jake’s,” Brandon interjected.

“Yes, and Penelope was able to outbid you, that’s right.” Becca nodded. “At that point, I finally got hold of someone who would actually listen to me. Today, when I talked with him and he told me about the investigation, he said that if the state was able to prove Murphy and Melton colluded in order to force Mee-Maw’s place into a sheriff’s sale, then the sale would be considered null and void. Mee-Maw would get her land back.”

“But you bought—”

Becca smiled. “I know. That was my first question, how do I get my money back? My guy at the revenue department said I’d basically have to go back to Murphy’s creditors and prove that the land shouldn’t have been included in Murphy’s assets. With the state voiding the sale, the creditors would be forced to refund me that money.”

“But that’s great news, Becca!” Brandon leaped to his feet and began to pace. His brain whirred as he tried to figure out what could be so awful in that.

“Yeah. For me.”

Brandon turned back to face her at the bleak note in her voice. “But don’t you see? This is exactly what I’ve been trying to explain to Penelope. The land, Uncle Jake’s land, should never have been auctioned to begin with, because it was never Murphy’s. So the land will go back to Uncle Jake. Penelope can sue to get her money from Murphy’s creditors.”

“Brandon. I think you’d better sit back down,” Becca warned him.

He dropped back into his seat. “What?”

“The reason Mee-Maw can get her land back is that it was originally sold at a sheriff’s sale, right? And the state is saying that the county possibly sold it wrongfully, as there was no tax debt to be satisfied. It never should have been sold to begin with.”

“Right,” Brandon said. “Just like—”

“Your uncle’s sale was different. His wasn’t a sheriff’s sale. It was a private sale. The state’s position, even if it is proved that Murphy and Melton colluded and conspired, is that the state didn’t force Uncle Jake to sell to Murphy.”

Brandon gaped in disbelief. “It sure was a forced sale! If he hadn’t sold half his farm to Murphy, the county would have taken his entire place. That’s the only reason he did agree to it. He would have never sold if he hadn’t been facing a sheriff’s sale!”

Becca looked miserable. “I know. I’ve begged and pleaded, but the state says their hands are tied.” She leaned forward and took Uncle Jake’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry, sir. It just doesn’t seem right that I’ll get my money back, eventually anyway, and you don’t get your land back.”

“Tell me that I’m not hearing this right. Tell me that Murphy’s not going to win again because he managed to squeeze Uncle Jake into agreeing to a private sale.” Brandon waited for Becca’s answer, and when she shook her head, he groaned. “They can’t do this! They cannot do this!” He was up again, on his feet, pacing.

“I’m sorry, Brandon.”

“Is there nothing we can do?”

Becca pursed her lips. “Not much, but you do have a couple of consolation prizes.”

Brandon collapsed back into the glider beside his uncle. He pressed the glass of water against his forehead. It did nothing to cool the boiling anger churning away inside him. “So?”

“If the state convicts Melton, the district attorney here could indict Murphy on extortion charges,” Becca told him.

“Right.” Brandon kicked at a pebble at his feet. “Like our sorry D.A. is going to go to the trouble of presenting a grand jury with extortion charges on a guy who’s facing a federal indictment. That’ll happen when pigs fly.”

“Now, hold on, Brandon.” Uncle Jake patted Brandon’s arm. “She said we had a couple of options.”

“The other possibility is that, if Melton gets convicted, you guys could sue Murphy in civil court. A jury might agree with you that it was Murphy’s conspiracy with Melton that netted him the land at such a cheap price.” Becca shrugged. “Not a great option, but it could be done.”

Brandon considered it. “Murphy wouldn’t have to be convicted as well?” he asked. “Because you know the D.A.’s not going to bother with indicting him on state charges as long as the feds are interested in Murphy. And for all my complaining, I can see his point. It’s not worth the cost to the taxpayers if Murphy’s going to be locked up anyway, even if it is some country-club federal prison.”

“From what my guy with the state said, no, Murphy wouldn’t even have to be indicted,” Becca said. “As long as the state lays out a strong case—and Melton is convicted—then you can sue for recourse in civil court.”

Uncle Jake cleared his throat. “So, okay, Melton gets convicted, put in jail where he belongs, and we go to court and sue Murphy. What happens to Penelope?”

Brandon wheeled around and scrutinized his uncle. He was gratified to see that his uncle really did care about Penelope, but shocked that he himself didn’t want Penelope tossed out on her backside.

Maybe it’s because you’ve seen how it hurt Uncle Jake. It wasn’t Penelope’s fault.

Aloud, though, he theorized, “Well, just like you didn’t have to sell it to Murphy—at least, the way the state sees it—Penelope didn’t have to buy the land. Maybe the state would see it as caveat emptor.”

His uncle waved away Brandon’s words. “Becca? What about Penelope?”

“At that point, if they returned the land to you, Uncle Jake,” Becca said, “Penelope would have to sue Murphy’s creditors to get her money back. But that’s a lot more iffy than my situation. For one, the creditors could say they acted in good faith and that Uncle Jake agreed to the land sale. For another, if they did say the land sale was fraudulent, they might limit their liability to Penelope by valuing it at the pre-auction fair-market value. In that case, she wouldn’t get all her money back.”

Uncle Jake furrowed his brow. “Sounds like a whole lot of cross-your-fingers-and-do-some-serious-hoping mess to me. And I wouldn’t want to see that girl suffer because of me. Murphy, now, I’d love to see him with the short end of the stick. But Penelope shouldn’t have to pay for her grandfather’s sins.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

P
ENELOPE
COUNTED
back the correct change to Jim Coursey, who took it and the receipt she’d offered.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” he told her. He bent down to pick up the tractor part she’d welded for him. “That was quick work, and a good price, too.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I’m glad I could help out. Please pass the word to anyone else who needs my services.”

Coursey inclined his head. “Yes, ma’am, I surely will.”

He turned to go, but Penelope couldn’t resist asking, “Who can I thank for referring you to me?”

“Why—” Coursey looked surprised by the question.

Penelope held her breath. She’d had a steady stream of welding customers in the past week. Small jobs, nothing big, but certainly enough to give her hope that she could make it until she sold a project.

She had a growing suspicion that it could only be Brandon.

“I don’t mean to put you on the spot.” Penelope thought of a reasonable excuse. “I’ll give them a twenty-percent discount on the next job they bring me. Same goes for you, too, if you refer me new customers.”

“Oh, well, then.” Coursey smiled. “I don’t guess he’d mind in the slightest. It was Jake Wilkes. He was telling me how you helped him and Brandon when their third link stripped out.”

“Oh, okay.” Penelope hoped her smile didn’t betray her disappointment. “I’ll be certain, then, to put Mr. Wilkes down for a discount.”

“And I’ll pass on the word. Good welding! Shuman had better mind his p’s and q’s,” Coursey said, taking his leave.

Penelope followed him out. She stood in the clearing in front of the open barn doors and stared at the fence.

Brandon had apparently stopped work on tearing it down. She couldn’t fathom his reasons. Maybe he’d decided he had been in the wrong. Maybe he’d felt sorry for her. Whatever his motivation, he’d gone back to planting.

And, except for a curt hello, he hadn’t spoken to her in the week since.

Sometimes, in the mornings, she’d get up at the first chug of the tractor by her bedroom window, slip into her clothes and stand on the back porch in the predawn darkness. Penelope would let Theo out and drink her coffee, watching as Brandon made the short rows across the field.

He and her mom were right—he spent half his time turning around. It would make more sense to have the fence down.

The strawberry plants were in the ground now, with irrigation pipes running along the black plastic mulching. Penelope recalled the day Brandon and his helper, Prentice, had planted them. She shook her head now as she remembered how little help Brandon had from Prentice.

Prentice at least had spoken to her. He’d wanted to know all about her sculpture, all about the welding she was doing.

Brandon? Tight-lipped, the quintessential man of few words, he’d gone about his business without much more than a nod.

His cool silence had been harder to bear than his previous insults to her grandfather. He seemed to have adopted an indifferent attitude toward her, hard to comprehend after that mind-blowing kiss.

That’s what really irritates you, how Brandon can turn it on and turn it off.

Where was that switch, she wondered. Because if Penelope could find it on herself, she’d flip it off.

She’d been awake at five o’clock, waiting to hear his tractor.

It hadn’t come.

Sighing, she turned back to the shop and the jobs that waited for her. If she hurried, she could get them all done and work the rest of the day on her sculpture.

No point dreaming away the day on a man who can’t forget who you are.

* * *

B
RANDON
RUBBED
his temples and frowned down at the inmate report. He liked the money being chief deputy brought him, but he could do without the paperwork. And the headaches. This week, the first time back on days in a while, had proved especially claustrophobic.

Or maybe you miss seeing Penelope.

Of course he didn’t miss Penelope. He hadn’t spoken to her, right? He’d seen her on the back porch in the mornings when he’d set to work on her field—Uncle Jake’s field, not hers. He couldn’t help noticing her. She was like a wounded dog that lurked in the brush at a distance.

In the week since the fence snafu, he’d tried to make amends in his own way. He’d stopped with the fence. He’d sent her business, but he’d told his friends to say Uncle Jake had sent them. No point giving the wrong message.

The phone on his desk buzzed, and he picked it up, thankful for the distraction.

“Deputy Wilkes, how may I help you?” he asked.

“Is this
Brandon
Wilkes?” The woman’s voice was Yankee, but the inflections were Southern enough. And the voice seemed vaguely familiar to him.

“Yes, ma’am, it is. How may I help you?”

“Well.” An embarrassed laugh punctuated the moment of silence. “I’m Marlene Langston.”

His stomach lifted, then settled back. “Oh. You’re, uh, Penelope Langston’s mother, then.”

“That’s right, that’s exactly right. I had some paperwork that Penelope wanted me to do for her and I needed to fax it to you.”

“Paperwork?” Suspicious, he stopped doodling on the legal pad he kept by the phone.

“Yes, the rental agreement. Penelope said she’d never bothered to get one done, and I thought I’d take care of it for her.”

“Well...we had a verbal agreement.”

“I know, I know, Penelope said as much. I need to finish up some details. I understand you are renting the land for...how much an acre?”

“She hadn’t named a price.” Now that he had the field planted, Penelope was intent on squeezing out every nickel she could.

“What exactly did she say?”

“That I could use the land. She said she wasn’t using it.”

A laugh that sounded so much like Penelope’s came across the line. “That’s my daughter for you. Absolutely no business sense. But okay, I’ll put it in the agreement that the only recompense she’ll get is for you to replace the fence when you’re done.”

“I beg your pardon?” Brandon dropped the pencil on the desk and fumbled to get it back.

“The fence. You took it down so that you could plow?”

“But I haven’t. Penelope said—” Brandon broke off.

“She said what?”

“Don’t you two talk? I mean, haven’t you discussed this if you’re preparing her rental agreement?”

“Well, truth be told—” Marlene laughed again, “—Penelope’s hard to reach sometimes. She gets caught up in her latest project...well, you know.”

Brandon didn’t know, but there was no point in saying so. He waited out the silence and was rewarded by Marlene clearing her throat.

“Ahem, yes, so the latest information I have is that the fence can come down as long as you agree to put it back up when the agreement expires. Is that okay with you?”

Brandon couldn’t answer. If he said yes, his long-range backup plan of getting the land back through adverse possession was toast. If he didn’t...

She’s meeting you more than halfway. Don’t be a jerk about it.... Yeah, she can afford to be generous. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.

But Marlene had moved on. “I’ll fax over the agreement and anything you and Penelope have discussed, you can add as an addendum, how about it?”

“Okay. That sounds...okay. Honestly, Penelope seemed to feel strongly about the fence. I’d want to talk to her about it before I signed it.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Now, there’s another little matter.”

Man, he could tell Marlene was Southern, despite her Yankee accent. She could beat around the bush like nobody’s business. The way she said “little matter” signaled to Brandon there was nothing little about it.

“Yes?” he prompted when she didn’t elaborate.

“This is embarrassing. But I understand you don’t particularly care for my father.”

“Richard Murphy? That’s a polite way of putting it. No offense, ma’am.”

“None taken. My father is a difficult man at his best. But he can be very charming. And that’s why I’m so concerned about Penelope.”

“She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

Marlene’s uneasy chuckle told him she didn’t agree. What had Penelope said? Something about her parents not taking her no for an answer? He could see that about Marlene.

“Would you say that the federal indictment against him is an inevitability? It’s certainly taking a long time if it is.”

Brandon glanced back at the reports still waiting to be filled out and tried not to grind his teeth. “The feds are thorough, and the U.S. attorneys are protective of their conviction rate. So they don’t move forward with an indictment unless and until they believe they have an airtight case. If you get a federal indictment handed down against you, it’s a fair assurance you’ll be convicted. It’s almost a one-way ticket to the federal pen.”

He heard a clicking noise, as though Marlene was tapping a pen against her teeth. “I see. Did he do it? This farm scam? Is he guilty?”

“Up to his neck in it, ma’am. I’m sure sorry to tell you that, but it’s the truth. He’s been defrauding federal crop insurance programs for years on a smaller scale, but this past year, he moved up to a new level and he involved a lot of farmers in the area. He wanted my best friend to get involved, and when Ryan wouldn’t, he conspired with the tax commissioner to force a property sale.”

Marlene hissed. “That would be that horrid Melton, wouldn’t it? The man is a crook. How he keeps getting elected is beyond me.”

“You remember your Brazelton County history, then, I guess. But Melton’s not smart enough to have come up with this on his own.”

“No, leave it to my father to dream that up.”

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind me asking, why is it that you hate your father so much, yet Penelope is one of his biggest champions? Doesn’t she know what kind of person he is?”

Marlene sighed. “That’s to my unending regret. I tried, you know, to do the right thing. I wanted to be fair. I wanted her to be able to grow up and see him as he was, without my...prejudices getting in her way. She knows I don’t get along well with him. I suppose, though, that she discounts it as fallout from my parents’ divorce.”

“It’s not just that?” Reports could wait, Marlene might have some information he could use. He poised the pencil over the legal pad.

“Not exactly. There were things my father did, things I’m ashamed of. I didn’t know about them at the time, or at least I didn’t understand them, but later they were...illuminating. I never could view him in quite the same light.”

“And Penelope knows whatever it is he did?”

“Oh, no. Like I said, I was trying to be fair.”

“Well,” Brandon said drily, “looks as though that went well.”

“I had no idea he’d talk her into buying a piece of property that close to him! I thought I’d die of shock when she told me. I tried so hard to talk her out of it, but once Penelope gets her mind set, there’s no changing it.”

“So Murphy contacted her then?”

“Oh, yes. He actually tried his luck with Trent first, but Trent didn’t buy his con for a minute.”

“Why exactly are you telling me all this? What do you think I can do?”

Again her laugh told Brandon that Marlene was clearly embarrassed. “Well, you know, he calls me from time to time, my father does. And he seems quite concerned about your influence over Penelope.”

“My influence over Penelope? That would be zip.”

“No, no, I don’t think so. One thing my father could always do was spot a potential weak link in any plan he was putting together. He tried to convince me that you meant to harm Penelope. So I figure, if he’s up to his old tricks, you’re the person who could come closest to helping her.”

“Don’t mind me for saying so, ma’am, but that’s a big leap.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. But Penelope seems to like you when you’re not— Anyway, to get to the point, one of my points, of this call, I was wondering if you had any vacation time coming up.”

Brandon tried to follow the conversation’s change in direction but couldn’t. “Ma’am?”

“Vacation time. Personal leave?”

“I have some built up, but why do you ask?”

“My son—I mentioned Trent a moment ago—is getting married. In a week. And I was wondering...”

“Uh-huh?” Brandon held his breath. He had an inkling what was coming and wasn’t sure what his answer would be.

“If I bought your ticket, could you fly out with Penelope? To attend the wedding.”

“To Oregon?”

“Yes. It wouldn’t be for long. The wedding is on a Saturday, so you’d fly in late Thursday and fly out Sunday morning.”

“Uh, ma’am, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not real keen on flying.”

“You see,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’ve tried so hard to convince Penelope that there’s no good in helping out her grandfather. She won’t listen, and I’m terribly afraid she’s about to do something she’ll come to regret.”

Brandon groaned. He had no interest at all in getting in the middle of an old family quarrel. He started to protest, again, that Penelope was old enough to make her own mistakes. “Perhaps you—”

But Marlene steamrolled on. “I’d like to talk to you, show you some things to do with my father that perhaps should go to the authorities investigating him? But before I did that, I’d want to meet you. In person. Can you understand that?” she pleaded. “This is a big thing I’m doing, a momentous decision. And I haven’t...it’s hard, bringing my family’s dirty laundry out in the open. I need to know what sort of person you are before I share some very painful things with you. So can you come?”