The Tycoon

“Where did Frank go?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How long…”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks! Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Because I thought he would come back. Or…I hoped he’d come back.”

“Two weeks, Bea!”

“Don’t yell at me,” Bea said.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Sabrina said.

I took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as I could.

“How…much?” I asked, quickly tallying up all my bank accounts. I had a maybe fifty grand, sixty if I maxed everything out.

“Half a million dollars,” she said, and I nearly choked on air. “I’m in serious trouble and without the money from the inheritance I don’t know how I’m going to get out of it.”

I looked at Sabrina. “Could you loan her what she needs?”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

Even Bea was staring at her in surprise. “You’re like a…television star.”

“Uh, my life is expensive?” Sabrina said, as if that explained everything. “I could probably loan you, like, ten thousand? I think I have that in savings.”

Oh, my God. I put my head in my hands.

“He can’t just give everything away, can he? To Clayton?” Bea asked. “This was our home. We grew up here!”

“Unhappily,” I said, though I understood that was not entirely true. But I couldn’t register everything right now.

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re owed something,” Sabrina said.

I had a speech I gave clients who came in and said that to me. About how the world didn’t keep tally like that.

“Aren’t we?” Sabrina asked.

“I don’t know what I’m owed,” Bea said. “All I know is I owe a lot.”

Okay. I took a deep shuddery breath. “Let me think.”

“Dylan is the answer,” Bea said.

“Dylan’s the worst possible answer,” I said. “And even if he did come back, who knows what he’ll do? He may sell off everything. Burn the ranch to the ground. Leave us nothing.”

“That’s true.” Bea shook her head.

“We don’t know Dylan at all,” I said.

“Guys,” Sabrina said. “Don’t do that. He might pull through for us.”

“He’s never been there for us before,” Bea said. “Why would he now?”

“Exactly,” I said.

“What about Clayton?” Sabrina asked, and I turned death-ray eyes on her. She lifted her hands like I’d pulled a gun. “He’s rich, Ronnie. That’s all. The guy is rich.”

“We’re not asking the jerk who broke her heart for anything!” Bea yelled.

Sabrina and Bea both started talking at once. Their voices climbed over each other.

“Stop,” I shouted and they were immediately silent. “Just…we can figure this out. I know we can.”

“I’m sorry,” Bea whispered. “I’m so…sorry.”

“Isn’t this your thing, though?” Sabrina asked. “You date assholes and Ronnie bails you out?”

“Sabrina! Don’t!” I said.

“It’s true,” Bea said. “Don’t be mad at her for saying it. We all know it’s true. I have shit taste in men.”

Sabrina’s phone chirped and she pulled it out of the pocket of her lovely black suit. “The caterers.”

“Yeah. Go,” I said and waved her out the door.

But then I wondered who was paying for the caterers? This giant funeral party. The oceans of bourbon people were swimming in.

Sabrina paused in the doorway, beautiful and polished.

“I know this sucks,” she said. “But I’m glad you’re here. Both of you.”

I melted. I did. She was ridiculous sometimes, but she was so sweet underneath it.

“Me, too,” I said. I tapped Bea’s hand but she was resolutely silent.

Sabrina left, and it was just Bea and I in this haunted room. “Would it kill you to be a little kinder to her?” I asked.

“Yes,” Bea said. Not helpful at all.

6

CLAYTON

I watched as the sisters cleared out of the office. Each of them going their own way. Sabrina, no doubt, to handle the caterers. Bea to the barns. And Ronnie…

Ronnie with her head up and her back straight was undoubtedly going to beg her brother to come and save the day. She went out toward the back porch, her cell phone in her hand.

The dogs followed her out.

She’d been using the dogs as a barrier all day and I had to admire the tactic. Though somehow James Court got to her.

I should have broken his hand.

Ronnie was not going to take this will reading lying down, of that I was sure. And Ronnie could fight, no one knew that better than me, but she didn’t have the firepower I did.

“Excuse me,” I said to one of the servers who was walking around with a tray. “Could you bring me a plate with one of each of the hors d’oeuvres into the office? If there’s something with cheese, bring me extra of that.”

She nodded and walked back to the kitchen.

I turned and found Madison standing at the windows at the end of the hall, looking out at the land. All her drawbridges were up and she looked like an icy-cold island.

I deeply admired that about her.

“Madison,” I said, approaching her from the side. “Can you please join me in the study?”