What Dale Gilbreath had told Schyler was the dismal truth. She spent the remainder of the afternoon in Cotton’s study at Belle Terre, checking the balances in all his bank accounts. He had virtually no cash at his disposal, not anywhere close to three hundred thousand dollars.
She was staring down at the alarmingly low total at the end of the adding machine tape, when Ken breezed in. “Drinks before dinner now being served on the veranda.”
During the first few days following the pit bull fight, Ken had been sullen and crotchety. Recently, he’d had a turnaround and had gone out of his way to be jocular. That jocularity grated on her now like a pumice stone.
“Ken, I need to talk to you.” She tossed down the pencil she’d been using and linked her hands together over the desktop. “Why did you cease operation of Crandall Logging when Daddy had his heart attack?”
Ken’s wide grin faltered and showed signs of deterioration in the corners, but he managed to hold it intact. “Who told you that?”
“What difference does it make who told me? I would have found out sooner or later. Why, Ken?”
“What brought this on?”
She sighed in resignation. “A phone call from Mr. Gilbreath at Delta National Bank.”
“That asshole. He had no right to—”
“He did have a right, Ken. We owe his bank a lot of money. And I have a right to know what the hell is going on around here, which I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
“Well, I have a right to know what you’ve been up to lately, too.” For one heart-stopping moment she thought Ken had found out about her visit to Cash’s house on the bayou, possibly even about the kiss. It was almost a relief when he said, “The big news around town is that somebody shot up Jigger Flynn’s kennel and killed three of his dogs. He’s foaming at the mouth to find out who did it.” His eyes narrowed on her. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“When did it happen?” she asked, stalling.
“Sunday night.”
“I went to bed early, remember?”
He sat on the corner of the desk and carefully gauged her facial expression. “Yeah, I remember.” He picked up a brass paperweight and shifted it from hand to hand. “According to Jigger, a pickup truck came barreling down the road like a bat outta hell and picked up the fellow who shot his dogs. He says he fired at the truck with his pistol and hit it on the passenger side.” He crossed his arms over his thigh and leaned down low, whispering, “Now guess whose truck is sporting a fresh bullet hole?”
“Whose?”
“Cash Boudreaux’s.”
“Is Mr. Boudreaux responding to any allegations that he was responsible?”
“Yeah, he’s responding. He says he got shot at while fleeing a married man’s bedroom, or more specifically, fleeing a married man’s wife inside the bedroom.”
“Nobody can dispute that.”
Ken flashed her a grin. “Not the probability of it anyway. But you know what I think?” Stubbornly and calmly she waited him out. He lowered his voice another decibel. “I think you killed those dogs and that Boudreaux helped you. What I’m wondering is what kind of currency you exchanged, ’cause that Cajun doesn’t do anything for nothing.”
She came out of her chair like a shot and, feeling trapped, circled the end of the desk. “You’re changing the subject.”
He grabbed her wrist. All pretense disappeared. His face had turned ugly. “I thought I told you to steer clear of him, Schyler.”
She pulled her wrist free. “And I told you that I don’t need a keeper. But apparently you do, or my father’s business wouldn’t be in the shambles it’s in.”
“It’s my business, too.”
“Then why did you shut it down?”
“For godsake, what is all the shouting about?” Tricia entered the room, exuding Shalimar and petulance in equal strengths. “Kindly keep your voices down.” She closed the door behind her. “Mrs. Graves doesn’t talk much around here, but she’s probably a blabbermouth when it comes to spreading gossip. Now, what’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself about,” Ken snapped.
“It is something she should concern herself about,” Schyler contradicted. “She lives here. She should know that Belle Terre is in jeopardy.”
Tricia looked from one to the other. “What in the world are y’all talking about?” She sipped at her highball while Schyler summarized for them her conversation with Gilbreath.
Ken spat the banker’s name. “I might have known he’d get you all wound up. He’s a persnickety old Scrooge. Only sees the bottom line. Probably a fag, too.”
“I don’t care if he sleeps with sheep,” Schyler declared angrily, “the facts are the same. We have a note coming due and no way that I can see to pay it.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he grumbled.
“How, Ken, how?” Schyler went around the desk again and sat down. Shuffling through the accounts she had just gone over, she raised her hands in surrender and said, “We’re broke.”
“Broke!” Tricia said on an incredulous laugh. “That’s impossible.”
“Daddy used Belle Terre to cover a three-hundred-thousand-dollar loan. I can’t imagine him doing it, but he did.”
“He was desperate,” Ken said. “I thought it was foolish myself at the time, but he wouldn’t listen to my advice. Not that he ever does.”
Schyler jumped to Cotton’s defense. “I’m sure he did what he thought was necessary. He couldn’t foresee that he would have a heart attack or that you’d close the doors on the business the minute he did.”
“You keep waving that at me like a red flag. Well, you finally succeeded in getting me angry, if that’s what you’re after.”
“It isn’t. We can’t afford the luxury of getting angry at each other. I want an explanation.”
Ken gnawed on the inside of his cheek. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and hunched his shoulders defensively. “It’s simple economics. We were losing more money than we were making. No contracts were coming in, but Cotton was paying the regulars the same wages he always had. He was paying the independents a premium price on timber, too.”
“He wouldn’t cut back on them.”
“And that’s probably why Crandall Logging is in the shape it’s in,” Ken said heatedly. “I thought it was better to quit while we were ahead instead of pouring good money after bad.”
Ken’s explanation didn’t quite gel, but Schyler was in no position to dispute it. Cotton had always been a shrewd businessman. It was unlike him to let things get so far beyond his control. Unless he was getting senile, which also seemed an absurd possibility. In any case, the problem was urgent. Solving it had to take precedence over finding its source.
“How are we going to pay this note? We’ve got until the fifteenth of next month to come up with the cash.”
Tricia dropped into a chair and nonchalantly examined her fingernails. Ken moved to a window and nervously jangled the change in his pants pocket. “You could have brought me one of those,” he said to his wife, nodding down at her drink.
“When you start being an attentive husband, I’ll be an attentive wife.”
If they launched into one of their verbal skirmishes, Schyler thought she would scream. She was spared. Ken turned to face her and said, “You and Tricia have money from your mother’s legacy.”
“Forget it,” Tricia said. “I’m not risking my inheritance to get Crandall Logging out of hock or to save Belle Terre. I’d sell it first.”
“Don’t even say such a thing!” Schyler wanted to slap her. Tricia had never cared for the property the way Schyler did. Her nonchalance now pointed up just how uncaring she was.
But Tricia was right in one respect. Schyler couldn’t use her mother’s legacy to pay off this note. If Cotton died, she would need that money to maintain Belle Terre in the future.
“What about that guy in London?”
Schyler looked at Ken. “Mark? What about him?”
“He’s rich, isn’t he?”
“I can’t ask Mark for the money.”
“How come? You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
Ignoring the slur, Schyler shook her head adamantly. “Out of the question. I can’t and won’t ask Mark for the money.”
“Then what do you propose to do?”
She resented his condescending tone. “I propose to reopen Crandall Logging and to earn the money to pay off the loan.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Ken.”
“You can’t do that.”
Tricia snickered. “That would be right down her alley, honey, going to that dirty old landing every day. Mama used to have to drag her away from there.”
“I forbid it,” Ken shouted angrily.
Only minutes ago, Schyler couldn’t see a way out of this unexpected dilemma. Now the solution was brimming crystal clear in her mind. The decision was made; it felt right. She wanted to do this for her father. She needed to do it for her own peace of mind.
“You can’t forbid me to do anything, Ken,” she said tightly. “Tomorrow I want the business records of the last several years brought to the office at the landing. Everything. Contracts, payroll accounts, tax returns, expense receipts, everything.”
“Cotton will hear about this,” Ken ground out.
Schyler aimed an accusing finger at him. “You’re damn right he will. I want to know why Crandall Logging went from a productive business to a nonrevenue-producing company on the brink of ruin in just six short years.”
“I guess you think it’s my fault. That the company’s decline started the day I came aboard.”
“Please, Ken, don’t be childish,” she said wearily. “I’m not blaming anybody.”
“Sounds like it to me,” Tricia said in unusual defense of her husband.
“It’s the economy’s fault,” Ken said. “You don’t understand the economy around here anymore, Schyler. Things have changed.”
“Then maybe we should change with them.”
“We’re up against the big guys. Weyerhauser, Georgia Pacific, huge conglomerates like that.”
“There’s still a place in the market for small operations like us. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.”
Ken plowed his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Do you have any idea how complicated running a business like this is?”
“I’m sure I’ll find out.”
“You’re going to make me look like a damn fool. While Cotton’s indisposed, Crandall Logging is my responsibility!” he shouted.
“It was,” Schyler replied coolly, coming to her feet. “If you wanted to wear the pants in the family, you should have put them on the day Daddy went to the hospital.”
She left the room. Ken, fuming, watched her go, then turned on his wife, who was still indolently curled up in the chair sipping her drink. She gave a disdainful shrug toward the entire situation and drained her glass.