Читать книгу The Secret Agent's Surprises - Tina Leonard - Страница 9

Two days later Priscilla wasn’t feeling very forgiving. Under new rules—and a revised estimation of the value of her real estate, thanks to new bank software—Priscilla learned the value of her home and business had sunk by forty thousand dollars. In the blink of an eye, she’d lost the foothold she thought she’d been gaining. Real estate was supposed to keep its value, if not go up, but with current economic conditions, banks were tightening lending standards and the way they evaluated properties.

Her situation wouldn’t have been so devastating except that she’d been counting on her home to provide equity for her tea shop. The loss of forty thousand would put her out of business.

“Fine,” she told her friend Deacon Cricket Jasper, who’d come over for tea and a visit. “I’ll go back to doing what I was doing before I became a small businesswoman. I’ll work for the government crunching numbers in some dreary office. At least I’ll have some retirement funds put away.”

“I don’t know,” Cricket said, looking around the wing of the home that served as the shop. “You’ve done pretty well, and this place is popular. Get an outside appraisal and ask for a home equity line of credit at a different bank.”

Priscilla considered that. “No one’s lending money these days, certainly not to take a chance on a tiny tea shop and etiquette lessons.” The thought depressed her. Her heart was in her business. “I’d be in trouble if people were to suddenly cut back on parties and etiquette lessons for their children. Maybe it’s better this way.”

Cricket nodded. “One of my favorite sayings is that when God closes a door, he opens a window.”

Priscilla smiled. “You’re a good friend to remind me.” She glanced around her pretty little shop. The walls were painted a light, cheery pink. White tables sat here and there, inviting conversation; two pink-and-white-striped antique sofas lined the walls for intimate groupings. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminated by tiny purple bulbs hidden around the ceiling tray so that soft amethyst light bathed the crystals of the chandelier and reflected the hue on the ceiling. It was a comforting place. At night, when the shop was closed, she liked to sit in here with a good book, a side-table lamp lighting the pages. “It was just such a shock when I talked to the man at the bank. He was so sympathetic, but I felt bad. I’m not the only person this has happened to, so I don’t intend to feel sorry for myself, but it wasn’t welcome news.” Priscilla took a deep breath. “However, I also liked my friends in the government office. I’ll be fine.”

Cricket stood and hugged her. “It will all work out. In the meantime you can always go see what Mr. Morgan had up his sleeve. There’s usually money involved when he wants to pawn off one of his sons.”

Priscilla laughed, surprised, and shook her head. “As much as I liked him, I fear Josiah is a one-man con game. Truthfully, the games he’s up to are beyond my scope.”

“Yet he has such amazing success, especially with those hardheaded boys of his. Wouldn’t it be an old movie plot if he was behind this loan problem?” Cricket went out on the porch, opening her polka-dot umbrella. “This is the coldest and dreariest February I think I’ve ever seen in Fort Wylie.”

“Mr. Morgan might be a busybody, but he wouldn’t deliberately sabotage my business,” Priscilla said, laughing.

“I know. I was being dramatic. I think it’s the weather.” Water puddled at the base of the porch as the rain came down harder.

“Drive carefully,” Priscilla said. “The roads can be slick.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll be praying for you.” Cricket cast a glance back through the door longingly. “It’s so comfortable in your shop that I hate to leave. I can’t stand the thought that it might not be here much longer.”

Priscilla waved goodbye, not sure what to say about that. She’d heard of several people in Fort Wylie having money woes—her situation was better than most.

She went inside to examine some financial statements and see what she could come up with.

P ETE M ORGAN sat on a military plane mulling over his prospects. The last thing he wanted was to return home to the Morgan ranch, but he’d been offered a million dollars to do so, as had his brothers. Gabe and Dane had fallen under the spell of money and lovely women, but Pete was harder, more stubborn. He wouldn’t have been a secret agent if he weren’t tough as steel, a trait he’d inherited from the old man. Maybe that was the only good thing he’d ever gotten from Pop. The old goat had wanted his boys tough, and that was how they’d turned out.

The oldest son, Jack, wasn’t in touch with anyone in the family. He called the rodeo circuit home. Pete had no home at the moment. After he’d finished his assignment and been debriefed, he’d had time to ponder his life. He was glad he was retiring, not sorry it was all over. He was happy enough, if any of the Morgans knew what happiness was. Gabe and Dane were certainly new men since their marriages.

Maybe that was what he was missing.

Pete pushed the thought from his mind. That was Pop talking, getting in his head with his desire for more grandchildren, somehow wanting the past to be overlooked.

Pete had no intention of caving. He decided he’d find Jack, pay him a visit. Maybe he’d become a rancher like his brothers, throw in a little real-estate venturing like Pop. Surely Jack had to be getting tired, too. Pete felt his own thirty years sitting on him like a weight, or perhaps it was the traveling that had worn him down. When he was younger, his job had made him feel very important. Now he just felt exhausted. Maybe it was the absence of light in his life—and why that miserable thought made him think of Miss Manners, the wonderfully elusive and prissy Priscilla Perkins, he wasn’t sure.

“W ONDERED IF YOU’D ever get around to visiting me,” Josiah Morgan said to Priscilla two days later, his eyes gleaming. “You’re wanting to hear my plan, I expect.”

“Mr. Morgan, I might just be paying a call on you to be kind. I could have a business proposition for you myself.” She seated herself in the massive den of the Morgan house, located just outside Union Junction. It was different here now that Josiah had taken up residence—the house felt more like a home. Last month, he’d been living in France. He said he’d sold his knight’s templary for a handsome profit and moved back home to spend time with his new grandchildren. But while he’d been in France, Priscilla, Cricket and Suzy had spent lovely days vacationing in this house, helping Suzy keep distance between herself and Dane.

Instead of keeping their distance, Suzy and Dane had gotten married, and the women’s friendships had grown stronger. Priscilla hadn’t known Suzy and Cricket as well then as she did now, and the time spent together was a memory she treasured. They’d baked cookies, played with Suzy’s kids, teased the Morgan brothers. “We never did get the new curtains done for this house,” Priscilla said. “We meant to. We were on the way to the fabric store when we saw Jack—”

She stopped, remembering the bad blood between Josiah and his oldest son. Josiah’s gaze sharpened.

“You saw my son?”

“Well, it wasn’t an intentional meeting,” she said hurriedly. “Now, back to your plan—”

“How did you see him? Where was he?” Josiah demanded.

“He was hitchhiking. We only saw him for a moment, truly. However, I didn’t come all the way out to Union Junction to discuss Jack,” she said, injecting impatience into her tone to try to move him off the personal topic she knew was painful. “Shall we get back to the purpose of your earlier visit to me?”

“How did he look?” Josiah asked, ignoring her pointed request.

“Handsome,” she said simply. “Ornery. Full of life. Not interested in talking to us once he found out we were living here. He wasn’t in the car long enough for us to learn much.”

Josiah sighed. “So much like me.”

“Handsome? Or ornery?”

He winked at her. “You’re a bit of a minx, aren’t you?”

“Flattery won’t hurt if it gets you away from worrying about your sons. And I may as well hear your proposal. I admit to some curiosity.”

“Which killed the cat, but in this case, there happen to be extra lives.” Chuckling, he waved a hand to indicate that she pour the brandy sitting on a crystal tray between them. “Miss Perkins, there are four children in the county who are going into foster care. Their parents died last week in an auto accident. Very sad.” He looked distressed.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She met his gaze. “Did you know them?”

“I only met the parents once when Ralph Wright came out to buy a steer from me. They lived on a neighboring ranch, you know, more homesteaders than ranchers. Young couple, big dreams. Wanted a country life for their children. They’d been trying for a child for years, it seemed. Ralph mentioned that his wife Nancy, had surgery that helped. He beamed just talking about her pregnancy. They were very much looking forward to their new family, as you might imagine.” He swallowed thickly.

“That is very sad,” Priscilla said, her heart breaking for the children who had lost their parents. “It’s going to be very hard on the poor babies.”

Josiah’s expression turned crafty. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Miss Perkins. I would be interested in helping you adopt the babies.”

“Me!” Priscilla’s mouth dropped open. “What would I do with four children, Mr. Morgan?”

“Give them the home they need. As sad as their lives are now, I think it would be sadder to be split up in different homes, and so on and so forth.” He shook his head. “Life is going to be hard enough for them.”

“I don’t see,” Priscilla said, trying to breathe through her shock, “how you ever came to think that I would be a suitable person to adopt four children.”

“As I said before,” Josiah said, “I’d heard by way of a little birdie that you might have a soft spot for my son, Pete.”

She blinked. “Oh, I see. You’re going to do to Pete what you did to Gabe and Dane. Tie them to women with children to increase your family name.” She stared at him. “Don’t you think you’re presuming a lot? First, that Pete would want to marry me, second, that he’d want four kids and, third, that the child-welfare agency would consider me suitable parenting material?”

“You and Pete,” Josiah said. “Whether or not Pete would want to marry you wouldn’t be the issue. Second, four kids will be a shock to his system, but talking care of that many babies would be no harder than being a secret agent. You did know that’s what he does for a living, didn’t you?” He watched her carefully.

“No,” Priscilla said, “and I’m not sure that child-welfare services will find that comforting, either. But go on. I’m riveted by how you not only move your sons like pawns, but anyone else you decide you need.”

“You’re amazed that I would play God to this extent,” Josiah said equitably, “and I don’t blame you. But when a man has nothing left to lose, he may as well shoot for the stars. At least I do.” He took a healthy swig of the amber liquid she’d poured in his glass. “Have some. It helps sometimes.”

“I need clear, focused wits around you, thank you,” she shot back. “You’ve stunned me.”

“It’s simple enough,” Josiah said. “Pete needs to get married. I doubt you would be able to sleep knowing that four little newborns are going to be without parents when you could do something about it.”

“Newborns?” Priscilla straightened. “How young are the children?”

“Sadly, only a month old.”

“They’re quadruplets?”

Josiah beamed. “I did mention Nancy’s surgery, didn’t I? Worked like a charm.”

“Are they still in the hospital?”

He nodded. “That’s how I learned about them. I was visiting the hospital, and the nurses were talking about the accident. So, so sad.”

“Not to be rude, but do you just troll the hospital nursery looking for children and unwed mothers?” Priscilla asked.

“No,” he said, laughing, not offended at all. “It’s just that this time, I thought of you.”

“You know nothing about me at all. I could be a horrible person.”

“It’s not hard to find things out in small towns.” Josiah raised a glass to her. “Your parents raised you well, educated you, loved you a lot. You’re very close to them, which would mean extra grandparents for these little ones. You’ll need a lot of help, you know.”

Astonishment held Priscilla nearly numb. “Did you have my tea shop and home business reevaluated?”

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I got a notice that my home is worth less now.”

“That’s happening a lot in this economy. Banks don’t have as much money to lend, so they’re weaseling a bit.” He shook his head. “No, I would never have anything to do with devaluing a property. I’ve made my money in commercial and private real estate around the world. I’d be the last one who would ever want to see property values depreciate.” He looked at her. “Is that the real reason you came to see me?”

“I knew you were a meddler,” Priscilla said, lifting her chin, “and I suppose the thought came to mind. I apologize if it was incorrect.”

“Young lady, you’re entitled to think anything you want of me, but it hurts that you’d jump to such a negative conclusion.” He sniffed. “Contrary to what my sons think of me, nowadays most people think I’m a pretty nice old fellow.”

She held his gaze. “Josiah, you’ve been called a jackass by many people, pardon the term. I’m sorry if I had my doubts, but the bad news came right after your visit. I simply wondered how badly you wanted to pull your son’s strings.”

“You’re a shrewd one, I’ll give you that.” He eyed her sternly. “The folks who call me a jackass are jealous, and I don’t let that bother me. Some folks needed to get to know me better, and some I’ve had to ask for forgiveness. I can be shortsighted. But one thing I’m not is a chiseler. Anybody who’s done anything I’ve asked has benefited enormously in the financial sense and, I’d like to think, in the emotional sense.” He shifted in his armchair. “I’m hoping people will remember me fondly when I’m gone.”

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon,” Priscilla said.

“Don’t be so certain, missy. This deal I’m trying to work with you has a definite expiration date.”

She sighed. “You know this is an impossible situation. Even if I wanted to be a mother to four babies, I’m not confident I could manage it. I have no experience. I wouldn’t know a pacifier from a—” She stopped speaking as the front door opened. Josiah turned, his brow wrinkling.

Pete Morgan walked through the door and dropped a black duffel bag on the floor. He closed the door behind him, looking down the hallway to where he could see his father and Priscilla sitting in the den. His face was grim, an expression Priscilla hadn’t seen last month. Tall and dark and beautiful, the man who’d been so playful with her and Cricket and Suzy last month was gone. In his place was a lean, well-muscled warrior with a wary expression that hinted at something dark in his soul. Priscilla shivered. She didn’t think she’d feel as comfortable around him now as she had when he’d been teasing and carefree.

“Pop,” Pete said. “Hello, Priscilla.”

“Well, the prodigal returns,” Josiah said.

Pete shook his head. “You’re the prodigal. I heard you were in residence.”

“I’ve moved back for good,” Josiah said.

“Good for you,” Pete said. “I won’t plan on staying long, then.”

Priscilla shifted, feeling awkward. “Maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should stay,” Pete said. “The old man needs companionship.”

“I have plenty, thank you. Gabe and Dane and their wives and children visit frequently.” Josiah’s expression turned cantankerous. “I suppose you only came home for your million.”

Pete hesitated, glanced at Priscilla. “Darn right.”

“Well. You’ll have to live here with me to get it.”

“That’s a persuasive argument.” Pete looked at Priscilla. “What would you do for a million dollars?”