Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7) Page 14

  He gave them what Amanda supposed was his sincere look. “It’s of utmost importance that this is taken care of while your grandmother is of sound mind. If there’s any evidence that she’s not, then it would be up to the court to determine competency and assign someone as her legal guardian.”

  Amanda knew this, and she’d been diligent about trying to get Molly to sign the POA, as everyone called it. But Molly had refused. Plain and simple.

  The man droned on, as if pleading his case to a jury. “After talking to her mother on the phone several times and consulting with her care providers, Ms. Heller has become convinced that Mrs. O’Neal is showing signs of diminished capacity. Impairment such as that can leave Mrs. O’Neal open to scam artists and undesirables who take advantage of the elderly.”

  Undesirables. The word made a squiggle of worry skip down her back. “Molly is completely capable of making decisions. She gets a little distracted when she’s anxious or upset, but she doesn’t need a legal guardian.” Especially one who lives in New York. “She’s got me,” she added putting her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “I plan on sticking around for a while.”

  He looked at her a long time, apparently weighing that surprise declaration against what he’d been told by his client.

  “As I understand it, you’re scheduled to return to New York. Your mother mentioned your former employer has had a change of heart and wants you back.”

  A bribe. Oh, my God. The fact her parents had convinced Bainbridge-Smythe to take her back filled her with foreboding. While she’d been doing their bidding, they’d been pulling strings and setting up an end game she could only guess at.

  But why?

  “I’ve seen no such offer. As of right now, I’m not going back. I’m opening up a business of my own. It was Molly’s idea. Remember, Grandma? You said, ‘Why work for some man when you can be your own boss?’”

  Molly looked up and smiled. The sweetness in her face made tears begin to form. Until the man whose suit was nearly as awful as those of the Bad Suit Boys said, “The hearing tomorrow is before a family court judge. I’m sure you’ll be given a chance to speak. As will your grandmother’s doctors and caregivers.”

  “The same people who have a vested interest in keeping her here,” Amanda cried. She walked to the door. “You need to leave, now.”

  The man didn’t protest. Obviously, his visit had been the shot across the bow to let Amanda know a battle was about to begin. In a war I can’t win, she thought. If her parents were determined to wrap up Molly’s affairs in a neat little bow—sell her house and move her into a full care facility to live out the rest of her days, what chance did Amanda have to stop that from happening? Did she even have enough money in the bank to hire a lawyer? How much did one cost?

  She composed a text to Tucker: Need a lawyer. Who do I call?

  His reply came quickly enough to tell her he was no longer on the mountain. Please reconsider. Our insurance won’t be good until tomorrow.

  She chuckled. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Molly watching her. Amanda held up the phone. “Tucker. He cracks me up.”

  “Because you love him.”

  “What? No. We’re just friends. Roommates tossed together by circumstance. Nothing serious.”

  Molly shook her head and muttered something about there being “no fool like a young fool.”

  Amanda made half a dozen mistakes before she completed her reply: Molly under attack. Sharks circling. Smell blood.

  A few seconds later a person’s contact information appeared on her screen: Austen Zabrinski. Another text followed: Jaws among Great Whites. Tell him: free zips for life.

  Tears filled her eyes. She sniffled and wiped the errant moisture away as stealthily as possible.

  When she looked up, her grandmother smiled. “Told ya so.”

  Molly was right. Amanda loved Tucker Montgomery.

  Good Lord, what a field day her parents would have when they found out about his off-season job.

  A thought struck her so hard she sat on the end of the bed, her knees shaking. They know. That’s why they were attacking with both barrels. They were determined to save Amanda from herself—even at the expense of her grandmother’s final years.

  She said the word no Heller ever used in public—the one that started with F and ended with K, plus a whole slew of colorful cuss words she’d picked up from her grandmother this summer.

  “I’m screwed, Molly.”

  Her grandmother reached out and patted her shoulder. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Amanda’s head throbbed from the combination of a sleepless night, worry, and breakfast with her mother. How one woman could so completely undermine three months of hard work so effortlessly was beyond her. Amanda felt gutted.

  “You are completely out of your element, Amanda,” June had said between bites of eggs benedict in the Graff dining room.

  Amanda had never seen her mother eat so much food in one sitting in her life. Nerves or something about being back in her old hometown?

  “You’ve done a fine job considering what you had to work with. I’m sure the house will sell for much more than we put into it. And I’ve already contacted an auction house to dispose of your grandmother’s collectibles and junk.”

  “Mother, you’re talking about Molly’s prize possessions.”

  When Amanda had tried to protest, June quickly amended the statement. “Fine. Antiques. You seem to have developed an interest in quirky, unconventional things.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your roommate, of course. The zipper person.”

  “Zip line. His name is Tucker Montgomery.”

  “Horrible name. Trucker. Not Montgomery. The Westport Montgomerys are lovely people. What sort of person would name their son after an eighteen-wheel vehicle?”

  “Trucker? Really, Mother? That’s the best you can do?”

  June’s cold stare was designed to make Amanda squirm and it had taken all of Amanda’s self-control not to flinch. “In case you were using him to make James jealous, it’s too late. James has moved on. He’s dating one of the Renway girls. The one who used to jump horses in hope of making the Olympics. She failed, of course. Just proves that no amount of money can make someone succeed where natural talent is required.”

  “Mother, I’m the one who broke up with James. Remember?”

  June made a whisking motion with her hand. The exact same gesture Molly made when she was done talking about something. June applied a tablespoon of huckleberry preserves on her triangle of toast. “Yes, well, so you say. James is telling everyone that he was the one who ended things because you were unstable.”

  “‘Unstable?’ What does that mean?”

  “You make impulsive, unhealthy decisions. You threw away a brilliant, promising career to move to Montana—a place you’ve never visited—to care for the grandmother you barely knew. Does that sound like the choice of a stable young woman?”

  Not when you put it like that. “You and Father asked me to come here to make sure Molly was getting adequate care.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “You’ve forgotten that conversation? Oh, dear. Don’t tell me you’re developing Alzheimer’s.”

  June stabbed the knife against the pristine white tablecloth creating a purple Rorschach test. “Don’t get smart with me, Missy. Your father and I had ample time on the flight to Paris to tally up what your failed engagement cost us. Tens of thousands of dollars when you add in the emotional pain.”

  “Are you planning on suing me?”

  “We don’t want it to come to that, Amanda. You’re our daughter. What would people think? But there’s a principle at stake here. Either you’re a member of this family who contributes to the greater good, or you’re a rogue, who only cares about herself. You have to decide. Either way, my mother is going to get the quality care she deserves in a licensed facility until the end of her life, whenever that may come. This will be my last trip t
o Montana. And yours, as well. It’s time for you to come home and get back to work.”

  “I don’t have a job.”

  June put her hands together in a mock prayer and smiled. “Your amazing father has smoothed things over with Jim Bainbridge. You won’t have your exact same job, of course. That position has been filled, but he said you could go back to your original place in the firm.”

  And start over. Lucky me.

  Tucker arrived late. He’d had to meet with representatives of the insurance company that planned to take a huge bite out of any profit he hoped to make. No matter how you crunched the numbers, the delay in getting his permits and missing the entire month of June had hurt. A lot.

  Even if this week’s grand opening rocked some pretty miraculous numbers, Tucker was not going to be able to pay back his grandmother’s investment in the timeframe he’d promised.

  “Damn,” he muttered pacing outside the closed door of the room marked: Family Court.

  He’d assumed this sort of place determined the fate of abandoned and adopted children, not elderly citizens. Tucker didn’t know exactly what arrangements his mother made with Ona and Granddad when she left Tucker in their care. But it had to have been something legal. He knew that from the many times his grandparents had had to haul his ass to the ER to get stitched up for something stupid.

  Even as a kid, he’d been too antsy to sit still for long, too nosy to stay out of a fight if an underdog needed help and too impetuous to turn down a dare. Maybe that need to be in the heart of the action was what drew him to firefighting. Even now he missed the adrenaline rush of beating a mad, aggressive fire into submission. Unfortunately, pushing his body to the limits was catching up with him.

  Hell, even after all the upper body workouts he’d done the past few weeks to keep his muscles from turning to mush, he would need a month in the gym with a personal trainer to get back to the shape he needed to be in for American Male. Sure he had a following, but this was showbiz—someone younger, hipper, cooler, and more committed was waiting in the wings to take his spot.

  A shiver of uneasiness passed down his spine. Luckily, he didn’t have to fret for long. A few minutes later, the door opened and Austen Zabrinski walked out. The look of pure, unadulterated fury on the man’s face told him the hearing had not gone well. Tucker braced for the worst.

  He held out his hand. “Thanks for stepping in at such short notice, Austen.”

  Austen pumped Tucker’s hand with a grip like a bull rider holding on for dear life. “I could have had a month and it wouldn’t have mattered,” Austen said. “Money.” He rubbed his fingers together. “Filthy lucre trumps human dignity every time.”

  Tucker didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure what questions to ask. Luckily, Amanda walked out at that moment, her face the color of paste. He rushed to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “She’s fine. At least, she will be once she gets back to New York,” a woman’s voice said.

  He turned to see a perfectly put-together older version of a face he’d seen in many photographs on Molly’s walls. June O’Neal Heller, Amanda’s mother. A head shorter than Amanda, June Heller carried herself with the self-possessed dignity of the rich.

  “You must be the person my daughter is living with...in my guesthouse. Consider this your eviction notice. My mother’s home is going on the market in the morning. I will expect you to have your things out of the house by the time the cleaning crew arrives. Have I made myself clear?”

  He looked at Amanda, wondering why the hell she didn’t say anything.

  “Oh, goodness, are you under the mistaken impression my daughter has any say in the matter? She doesn’t. She was sent here to oversee the refurbishment of my childhood home and to determine whether or not my mother was in need of full-time care. Although the house is acceptable, she led her grandmother, that poor, dementia-stricken old woman, to believe she would be able to return to her home. Something that simply is not going to happen.”

  Tucker’s temper hit the boiling point about seven seconds after Amanda’s mother opened her mouth. “Holy shit. It’s Cruella Deville in the flesh. Who died and made you God?”

  “The State of Montana has awarded me power of attorney over my mother’s affairs. I will decide what’s best for her and the rest of her family, including Amanda.”

  Tucker squeezed Amanda’s shoulders. “Amanda is an adult. She makes her own decisions.”

  “Not without money.”

  “Pardon?”

  “My daughter has never had to live on her own without the support of her family. She’s returning to New York to a job she loves and a life she knows. She may not have made the best decisions in the recent past, but she’ll be fine once she’s in her proper environs. If you care for her in the least, you’ll make this transition as painless as possible.”

  His fists clenched. He wanted to wrap his fingers around the bitch’s neck and squeeze until her perfectly frosted hair blew up like the troll doll he’d given Molly a few weeks ago.

  Amanda reached out and put a hand to his cheek. “I need to go with Molly, Tucker. I have to make sure she understands there was nothing I could do. I let her down...I let...everybody...down.”

  “We can fight this bogus piece-of-shit decision.”

  Austen shook his head.

  “But Molly wants to live out the rest of her life in her own home. She has enough money to hire round-the-clock help.”

  “And what will happen to that money the minute her family leaves?” June asked. “People will come out of the woodwork to rob her blind. This is a done deal, as they say in Louisiana parlance.”

  He reacted with surprise even though he should have guessed anyone as rich, connected and condescending as this woman would have covered all her bases.

  “Of course my husband looked into your background. I’m sure there’s a good reason why someone as accomplished and respected as Caroline Mayhue would walk away and leave her son to be raised by her lover’s parents. No doubt we’d find it if we looked hard enough, dug deep enough. But who knows what other dirty little secrets we’d uncover. Maybe something to do with your embarrassing job as a male stripper?”

  The look of utter disgust she sent her daughter’s way made him let out a low growl. He didn’t give a damn what the bitch thought of him, but to throw what he and Amanda had shared over the past couple of months back on her like some kind of tawdry carnival ride wasn’t fair.

  He took a step toward her, but Amanda put both hands on his chest to stop him. “Tucker. Don’t lower yourself to their standards. You have a business to run. They could make things more difficult. My father knows people...in power. Don’t...just don’t. Please.”

  She turned to look down the hallway. He spotted the caregivers from the facility pushing Molly’s wheelchair toward the main doors. “I have to go. There are things I have to save from the house. I thought I’d have time. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ll see you at ho...at the guesthouse,” he called, changing the word he’d been about to say. The place had felt like home for the past month or so. More than any place he’d ever lived, except for Louisiana.

  She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  She went to her toes and kissed him lightly before hurrying away, trying to catch up with the woman in the wheelchair.

  Her mother remained, arms crossed like a conquistador. “Be out of the house by nine or I’ll call the police. I don’t care who your mother is.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You can’t stay here, cat. Haven’t you seen any Disney movies? Do you know what Cruella Deville does to animals? I only have a tent, man. A mountain lion will devour you in one bite, but I’m taking you with me, anyway. With me at least you’ve got a slight chance of survival.”

  Peaches stretched on the bed in his totally uncaring cat way.

  Tucker wished he didn’t care. He wished like hell he’d n
ever met Amanda Heller.

  In the six hours since his confrontation with Amanda’s mother he’d called in every favor he could think of, but nobody had enough cash on hand to buy the old Victorian on a moment’s notice. The Zabrinski family had money up the wazoo, but every one of them had pledged an eye-popping sum to their new non-profit. Flynn’s inheritance was now wrapped up in a new house, and Ryker was on his honeymoon. The timing sucked.

  He looked at the clock. Nearly midnight in Louisiana, but his grandmother claimed she never slept, so he made the call. From her, he needed advice, not money. She’d already invested too heavily in the zip line. That knowledge kept him awake at night—before Amanda started sleeping beside him.

  “Hi, Ona, is it too late? Were you in bed?”

  “Of course not, Cher. I’m sitting on the porch listening to the bullfrogs. They’re so full of themselves. I told them you were going to call tonight and they all said to tell you hello.”

  He smiled for the first time in hours. “I miss those guys.”

  “So, how is our big zipper coming?”

  She always called the zip line that. “Great. Did you watch the video I sent?” He suspected she rarely turned on the cell phone he’d given her, let alone her iPad.

  “It made my head spin. I showed it to your aunts. They agree—it’s the perfect business for you. How did the big hoopla go?”

  The sick feeling in his belly returned. He’d been so focused on trying to save the Victorian and, eventually, get Molly back home, he’d spaced on today’s bottom dollar. He’d called Justin to ask for advice and hadn’t even asked how the day played out for Mountie’s Marvelous Montana Zip Line and Enduro Course’s grand opening.

  “Good. Really good,” he lied. “The grand opening runs through Sunday, you know. Amanda set up a huge publicity campaign that will hit radio, newspaper, strategically placed inflatable air puppets and social media.”

  “Sweet Amanda did all that? What a talented young lady. We face-talked. Remember?” Amanda had popped into the house one morning when he and Ona were testing out her phone’s Face Time capability.