Excerpt from
The Cowboy ad the Caddy
by Sue Charnley writing as Erica Arthur

CHAPTER 1

     Sara Anne Carson didn't want to come home to Luville, Texas, but she did. Her father's heart attack forced her. She parked her rented Mazda in the Carson's Cars lot. Throughout her ten-year escape from Carl Carson's stifling influence, she'd longed for the sight and smell of the dealership--the only thing in Luville worth coming home for.
      She got out of the car and started for the warehouse on the back lot. As a child, she'd done most of her thinking and dreaming in the big dusty building. During all the hours of travel from Alaska to Texas, she hadn't been able to think beyond this moment.
      She had to get a handle on all the dealership data that she'd pored through on the flight. More important, she needed to sort her muddled feelings before she walked into her father's house. God knew what kind of welcome waited her there? She needed some time alone.
      As Sara walked, she stared at the pavement baking in the May sun. She nearly collided with the car before she noticed the sleek, black Cadillac Orleans that barred entrance to the warehouse.
      She choked back an astonished cry, skirting around the vehicle, as if it were cursed. That vehicle haunted her nightmares.
      Only two of the huge prototypes existed. One sat in a museum somewhere. The other belonged to Josh McKinley, champion bull rider and all around jerk. She thought she'd loved him, a long time ago. He should be riding the rodeo circuit right now. So how had that Caddy appeared on Carson's property?
      "He must have sold the car to someone else. That's the only explanation that makes sense." She muttered to herself, as she pushed open the warehouse door.
      The new owner obviously didn't know the car's history, or that only a fool would park that car on Carson's property. The Caddy prompted painful memories of her mother's desertion, her father's neglect, and Josh. I'll find out who owns the Caddy now and ask them to remove it.
      The warehouse was dim and only a shade cooler than the steamy air outside. The huge building would make a great showroom for the RV's that Donny'd written about. She missed her brother, almost as much as she missed the dealership.
      Sara wandered down the hall. She turned the corner at the end of the corridor and ran smack into a bare, sweaty, male chest. The impact was brief. Hard hands closed over her shoulders and steadied her before setting her away. Sara looked up. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again.
      "You!" echoed through the emptiness.
      Sara jumped back further. Memories squeezed her heart. Of all the voices that she might hear, she never expected to hear Josh McKinley's deep baritone.
      "So you're back." His mouth twisted on the statement. His graveled voice and daredevil blue eyes challenged her.
      She wasn't ready for this. "What are you doing here? Gloating because my father's in the hospital?"
      "Not gloating, working."
      What a surprising idea, she thought. "That's ridiculous. It's Sunday and Carson's Cars is closed."
      "Always was, as I recall. Guess even an old devil like your daddy needs a day of rest."
      Her eyes widened. How dare he try to provoke her on her own territory. "My father would never hire a McKinley, and no McKinley would want to do an honest day's work when he could shyster widows and orphans instead."
      He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the wall, his narrow hips cocked at an aggressive angle. "I'm not working for your father."
      He had no right to prop his broad shoulders against that wall. "Then you're not working here, so get off Carson's property."
      The tall man with the dark hair and bright eyes didn't move. He gave a slow smile and looked her over, head to toe and back. "You've changed Sara."
      Deja vu skittered bumps over her skin. Time was when she would have danced naked in a cactus patch for that smile. No more. With everything in her, she'd fight her inexplicable attraction to this man. "Maybe it's time you found out just how much I have changed."
      "Go ahead, show me."
      "I'm not a lonely, defenseless, little girl anymore."
      "You weren't little in high school, Pipsqueak."
      She winced at the childhood nickname. He was right. She'd been a gawky five feet nine inches tall, when she'd first fallen for Josh McKinley. She wouldn't fall again. "Don't call me that."
      "Why not?"
      "Because you have no right. No McKinley has the right to treat a Carson with anything but healthy respect and wide distance."
      "You think so?"
      "Absolutely. You would too, if you had any sense."
      "What harm did the McKinleys ever do to you?"
      Sara gasped. "Surely your Uncle Sampson told you how he betrayed my father and destroyed our family. He probably made it sound like a big joke."
      "All my uncle ever did was make it possible for your mother to get away from an obsessive, domineering husband, who was turning her and her children into automatons."
      "Sam McKinley only spread that story around Luville to make himself look good."
      "And how do you think the story went."
            "Your uncle was my father's best friend and lawyer. My mother went to him for advice, and he manipulated her. He betrayed my father's trust. He broke up my parents' marriage just to get his hands on that cursed Cadillac you men love so much."
      Josh laughed. He crossed work hardened arms, thick with ropy muscles, over his chest. "My uncle never betrayed a friend or a client in his entire life."
      "Go ahead, keep your delusions. Because of your damned uncle, I lost my mother. If I hadn't, I never would have cuddled up to a McKinley snake, like you." She widened her stance and placed a fist on each hip.   His smile broadened. "Yeah, you did cuddle up to me, didn't you, Pipsqueak." He straightened and walked toward her.
      "What can I say, I was young and ignorant. I know better now." Sara stood her ground until she could smell the scent of sawdust mixed with male musk.
      "Really? Maybe we should find out for sure."
            She danced backward out of reach. "Oh no you don't. You aren't laying a hand on me."
      "Chicken, Pipsqueak?" He stalked toward her, his face shadowed in the meager light.
      "No, just wiser, and I told you not to call me that." Keeping her eyes on him, she fished in her purse for her cell phone. "I also told you to leave."
      "That you did." He continued his advance.
      "So why aren't you leaving." Sara backed into a wall. Why, she wondered, hadn't she run down the hallway to her left?
      "'Cause I still have work to do." He ambled past her, and sauntered down the corridor she should have used for escape.
      "That tears it." She followed him with her eyes.
     He rummaged in a toolbox.
      "You've got thirty seconds to clear out, McKinley, or I call the sheriff." She punched the numbers in from memory, certain that they hadn't changed. Nothing important in Luville ever changed.
      "Go ahead, Pipsqueak. If anyone gets hauled in, it'll be you."
      She jerked her head up. She hoped he couldn't see her hand shake. "That's even funnier than you working for my dad. I suppose you want me to think that Dad sold the warehouse."
      "No, he didn't sell it."
      "That's right. He wouldn't sell it. Carson's plans to put in a new RV showroom that'll go right here. The warehouse is the only building we own that's big enough."
      "When he recovers, he'll have to set up his RV showroom somewhere else. I hold an ironclad, five year lease on this warehouse, with an option for another five."
      Her hand closed convulsively. The phone clicked shut. "I don't believe it. What could a champion bull rider like you want with a warehouse in downtown Luville?"
      Josh shrugged.
      Her attention strayed to his broad shoulders and the smooth skin she'd briefly touched.
      "Not that it's any of your business, but I need the warehouse to keep a promise to my Uncle Sampson." 
     Had Josh's shoulders been that broad ten years ago? Sara gave herself a mental shake. Don't get distracted. "Some plot you hatched with your uncle to take advantage of hard-working citizens, I suppose."
      His eyes gleamed, diamond hard. "I'll ignore that bit of prejudice. You can't be blamed for what your father's bitterness did to you. And, I assure you that I intend to use the warehouse to benefit the citizens and the economy of Luville."
      "So you say." Sara rolled her eyes and tossed her head. "Regardless of the project's merits, Daddy would never do business with a McKinley, especially if it gave Sampson McKinley something he wanted."         "Your daddy didn't do business with a McKinley. Your brother did. He signed the lease, the day after your father's heart attack."
      She narrowed her glance. The timing alone was suspicious. "You tricked him. Donny wouldn't do business with you any more than Daddy would."
      He shrugged again. "Keep your delusions. If you check with your attorney--and I'm certain you will--he'll tell you the same thing."
      Calm now, she put the phone back into her purse, then looked him in the eye. "I'll check with our attorney tomorrow morning. We'll resolve this business here at 12:30 P.M. sharp. In the meantime, I suggest we both leave."
      "You go ahead. I still have a few things to finish."
      "I'm afraid you'll have to leave now. I need to lock the door."
      "Thanks for the offer." He pulled a key out of one of his front pockets. "But I think I can lock up after myself."
      She refused to butt heads with him any longer. "Don't linger. I'll call the sheriff's office on my way out of town and have them check the doors." She turned and headed down the hallway to the exit.
      He called after her. "That's mighty considerate of you, but don't do it on my account."
      She opened the door and threw back a retort. "My only concern is for Carson's property. I wouldn't dream of doing anything out of concern for a McKinley."
      Josh watched Sara's shapely behind disappear as the door shut. He'd done nothing but argue with the alluring blonde, yet he was hard from wanting her. He'd expected to run into her eventually. He knew her father's heart attack would bring her home. Nothing else in the past ten years had been able to.
      Why hadn't he prepared himself better? Did he think years and miles would make a difference in how he felt about the first woman he ever loved? Heck, he rubbed at the sweat congealing on his neck, Sara Anne Carson was the only woman.
      Maybe Sara Carson had the prettiest green eyes and the softest skin in North America. He couldn't let that matter. Whatever they'd had was over. He wouldn't let any Carson stop him from making reality out of the dream he'd shared with his uncle for so many years. Not even Sara Anne.  
      Outside the warehouse, Sara glared at the deep black Cadillac Orleans. Red highlights gleamed on the roof and fenders, reflecting the brilliant sunset. Damn that man. He has entirely too much gall. Parking that car on Carson's property. Claiming to have an ironclad lease. I'll see about that lease. He'll be gone, booted out, before he can blink.
      She tossed her head in disgust and kicked the nearest whitewall tire. Her foot throbbed, but she felt better. She hobbled down the lot toward her rental car.
      What if McKinley's claim was true? That would mean Carson's had a major problem. Months ago, Donny had written her about a deal Dad had made to market Mega Motors' RV's in Luville. According to her brother, the first delivery was already scheduled. Without the warehouse, where would the RV's go? She jerked open the door of the ancient Mazda and sat down. If Josh really did hold a lease on the warehouse, he also held the upper hand. As long as he didn't break the terms of the contract. What could Donny have been thinking?
      She jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered and caught. It needed a tune-up badly. She pulled out of the lot and broke away from the thought of Josh. That was it. Make Josh break the lease. She had to find a way to do it. But how?

Chapter 2

     If solving Carson's Cars difficulties was her newest problem, it wasn't her most immediate.           She had to get home. Donny'd left a message at the airport, stating that Dad was coming home from the hospital today. A full-time nurse would arrive at the house with them. Sara wanted to be there and get settled in before they showed up. Little if any time remained to accomplish that goal, due to a useless trip down memory lane with blue-eyed temptation. She'd wasted her precious time alone. Her feelings were more muddled than ever. All because of Josh McKinley.
      Sara shook her head and warned herself not to let McKinley take all her mental energy. He didn't deserve that much attention. Yes, he was a problem that needed dealing with because of the lease, but not the only problem. She also needed to ask Donny about some surface damage she'd noticed on the cars in the lot. She'd seen scratched doors, and trash inside several cars. Things in the prep and body shop had gotten too slack. She worried that the trouble had spread to other departments.
      No doubt the slack resulted from Donny's incompetence. Not that the sloppy workmanship was his fault directly. He just didn't have any real interest in the dealership. He never cared about Carson's Cars the way she did. Yet, he was the favored child, the heir apparent to something he didn't want.
      A twenty minute drive later, Sara walked into the ranch house and dropped her things on the hall table. She hadn't been back in years, yet the house felt as cold and empty now as it had when she'd left for college.
      Loud voices echoed from the back of the house. Oh no, Dad's at it already. Donny must have got back with Dad while she was at the warehouse.
      "Gol darn it, son. If you leave, I'll disown you..."
      "Now, now Mr. Carson..." an unknown female voice started.
      That high-pitched whine must belong to the nurse, Sara thought. A tinny squeak like that won't stop Daddy's stormy temper. She headed toward her father's bedroom.
      Donny's voice interrupted the nurse. His words were measured but too low to hear in the hall. Her father's words, she heard all too well.
      "I don't give a good goddam what your sister's capable of. You're my son, and it's your place to run the business I built for you."
      Pain halted Sara just outside the room. She closed her eyes and hugged herself. Even though she knew how her father felt, his blunt lack of affection and respect still hurt.
      Donny's tone sharpened. "I'm sorry Dad. I've tried to tell you that I don't want the dealership. I want to travel, and I can't with that millstone of mechanical wonders around my neck."
      "How dare you?" Carl blasted. "I built that business from the ground up." The creak of bed springs chorused the outburst.
      "Mr. Carson, please," the nurse pleaded.
      "Git away from me, you ol' biddy."
      Unnoticed by the room's combatants, Sara turned the corner into the doorway. The nurse stood behind Carl pulling him ineffectually by the arm toward the bed.
      The big man with graying blonde hair strained in the other direction. His hands stretched out toward his son. Carl yelled on. "Carson's was the biggest moneymaker in the state. With a push from you Donny, we'd be the best in the country."
      "I can't do it, Dad." Donny stood at the opposite side of the room. His large, square-jawed face, so like his sister's smaller features, twisted with some strong emotion. Anger, pain, sadness? Certainly all were possible.
      Her father raged out of control. His face purpled. He dropped one arm and heaved the nurse off. She landed in a heap against the bedside table.
      He jabbed a finger at Donny. "This is all your mama's fault. She was weak, and she bred weak. You will stay here and do as you're told, or you are no son of mine." Carl howled like a gulf hurricane.
      He hasn't changed, Sara thought, not even after a heart attack. He never fails to blame Mother for any disruption to his life. And he still won't speak her name.
      Donny looked away. When he saw her, he sagged against the wall. "Sara, thank God you're finally home."
      In the silence that followed, Sara shoved her own hurt aside and marched into the room. She stopped squarely in front of her father and placed her hand atop his extended arm. Gently, she pushed the arm downward and spoke with a calm, quiet tone. "Hello, Daddy."
      Carl turned his head toward her, anger ablaze in his eyes. "So you finally decided to come back."
      "Why don't you get back in bed?" she cooed, despite the hurt and anger that jangled along her nerves. "All this jumping around can't be good for you."
      Carl blinked rapidly, as if wondering where she'd come from. "No, no it ain't." The anger fled. Suddenly he was a weary, old man; not the tireless go-getter she'd always known.
      Sara guided him toward the bed, helped him up and in, and tucked the sheet around him.
      "You talk to Donny." Carl's voice trembled. "He'll see reason, if you tell him not to go." He sank back against the pillows.
      "Donny and I will talk." She sent a pleading look to her sibling.
      Her lanky brother slouched defiantly against the opposite wall, his green eyes shuttered. He nodded and left the room.
      The last thing Sara wanted to do was convince him to stay in Luville. They'd all be miserable.
      On the other side of the bed, the nurse had picked herself up. "I can take it from here."
      "All right."
      When Sara joined him, Donny was pouring tequila into a glass. He looked up. "Want one?"
      She shook her head and, arms folded across her chest, went to look out the floor to ceiling windows at the Gulf of Mexico. The tide was out. Waves rippled on the shore like those of a small lake. How could nature be so calm, when anger and frustration raged through her entire family?
      Donny came to stand beside her. "That nurse is gonna quit."
      Sara watched his reflection sip liquor. She nodded, "She's only the first."
      His reflection rocked on its heels and sipped some more. "She won't be the last."
      "Probably," Sara shifted her gaze from the darkened seascape to the slim man by her side.
      He met her glance for several silent moments, his expression wistful. "You're looking good, Sara."
      "You too, Donny."
      He looked down at his drink, then back up at her. "I missed you."
      "I missed you too." Sara smiled. "I don't think I realized how much until just now."
      Donny smiled back. "It's a little sad that you had to come home to realize that."
      "Yeah," Sara wandered to her father's desk. "But at least I came back."
      "Yeah."
      The silence felt awkward and thick. Donny deserved credit for trying to communicate. She looked at the case of miniature cars displayed on the desk's upper right corner. "I see the yellow corvette is still missing from Dad's prized collection. Do you still have it?"
      "Of course."
      "Why?"
      "I use it to remind myself that the old man can't control everything."
      "He makes a good stab at it." Sara gave a dry chuckle.
      Donny echoed the small cheer and saluted her with his glass. "Yeah, but we both know that on at least that one occasion, he failed to get what he wanted, cause I still have the miniature."
      "He has to get what he wants this time Donny, for a while at least."
      "I won't stay, Sara. I've been under his thumb too long."
      She winced. "I have to ask you to stay, Don."
      "Don't." The word punched out of him. "The old man has had me on a tight leash until last year. Learning the business he calls it...taking my rightful place. Well I tried and every time I made a decision, he'd change it. Oh he blathered about my inexperience and learning from mistakes, but he never really let me do anything. We had a big blow up last year. Then Doc Biggers told Dad to limit his work hours, so Dad turned day to day operations over to me. Dad takes care of long range projects and promotional campaigns. But he still sticks his nose in. Every time he does, I come off looking like a fool."
      "Dad's been like that since Mom walked out."
      "And the minute you were old enough, you did the same thing Mom did. You left me behind."
      As she thought about the day their mother deserted them, she felt guilt draw frown lines on her face. "I know better than anyone else, what you must have felt when I left. The day Mom disappeared, she told me she'd come back for us. I waited all day. I refused to go to bed. The next morning Dad sat in this room with me and told me Mom was never coming back. We had to go on without her."
      "You never told me."
      "You were ten. She didn't tell you to be a good girl, to obey your papa and take care of your brother. I didn't want you to hurt as much as I did."
      "You had no right to make that choice for me. I was her child too. Don't you think I deserved to know?"
      Sara watched the anguish on his face and knew her own mirrored his. "I was only thirteen. I did the best I could." She waited, not knowing if he'd forgive her.
      "Why didn't she come back?"
      "I don't know. Nobody knows." She let her head drop.
      "Mom didn't want us, did she?"
      Startled, Sara jerked her head up. She nodded slowly. "I wanted to protect you from that. I was wrong not to tell you everything. You wouldn't still be wondering, if I had."
      He groaned, then reached his arm out circling her shoulders. "I'm sorry Sara."
      "So am I Donny."
      She stayed like that for a while, sharing the pain, knitting past hurts into present comfort. Eventually, she walked away from him to the sofa. "You know," she said, "Dad's right about one thing."
      "What?" He swallowed the last of his tequila.
      "We have to go on without Mom."
      "Like we aren't doing that now." He crossed the room and sat in a chair opposite the couch.
      "I did. I left, remember. Now it's your turn."
      "What about Dad. He thinks you'll persuade me to stay."
      "I'd like you to stay on, until Dad is stronger. Until he can survive you leaving."
      "But you don't want me to stay." Donny stared down at the empty glass he rolled between his palms.
      "You're wrong. I want you to be happy. You deserve that after being chained to Dad all these years."
      He looked her in the eye. "You think I'd ruin the business in three months."
      She looked right back. "I give you six."
      A small smile appeared on his mouth.
      "However, that's not the point," she continued. "If running the dealership would make you happy, I'd beg you to stay. But it wouldn't; would it?"
      "No, I'd be miserable."
      She nodded and echoed his sad smile. The two of them had everything Carson's money could buy. But that money couldn't buy the only things either of them really wanted--their mother and a loving family.
      "Regardless of what you and I want, I promised Dad that I'd ask you to stay."
       Donny sat back in the chair and raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean you'll take my place at the dealership?"
      "Yes, so please stay."
      "We shouldn't drag this out, Sara. A clean break is better."
      "Probably, but I need some time with you here while I take over the dealership."
      "I'll think about it."
      "Good." She leaned forward. "While you think, answer some questions about the dealership for me."
      "Sure."
      "First, I need the details of the lease that McKinley claims he holds on the back lot warehouse. Second, tell me what you know about the damage I saw on the lot cars."
      "What damage?"
      "You mean you aren't aware that some of our cars have scratches on the doors, trash inside, and who knows what else wrong beneath the hood?"
      He crossed his right knee over his left leg. "I've been a little busy with Dad for the past few days."
      "There's too much damage for just the past few days. I'm surprised the prep and body foreman didn't notice. Who do you have working there?"
     He glanced away and mumbled. "No one."
     "No one!" She shot to her feet and paced the length of the room. "How long have we been without a foreman?"
     "I don't know, a month or two. Dad was gone a lot--buying trips, the Mega Motors contract, that kind of stuff. I had to handle everything."
      Sara moaned.
      "What's the big deal? The guys in the prep shop know their jobs. We're having a small cash flow crunch, so I let the foreman's slot go empty for a while."
      She turned and stalked back to him. "The deal, Donny, is that we now have damaged cars and no way to account for the damage. The small amount of money you saved by not paying a foreman will be eaten up before half the repair work is complete. If Carson's is having cash problems, they just got worse. Which reminds me. What were you thinking when you decided to lease the warehouse?"
      He tightened his shoulders. A sullen twist pinched his mouth. "You're angry about Josh McKinley."
      "Considering that he flaunted that Cadillac in my face, to say nothing of his uncle's part in destroying our parent's marriage, I'd say I have every right to be angry that you did business with McKinley. But that's not what this is about."
      "Yeah, right."
      "By leasing that warehouse, you jeopardized the entire Mega Motors deal. We have nowhere else to put the shipment scheduled for January. According to you, we have insufficient funds to finance an alternative. Even if Carson's did have the money, I doubt six months is enough time to turn any space into an acceptable RV showroom." Defeated, she dropped onto the sofa. "Dad'll have a fit when he finds out."
     Donny braced his elbows on his knees. He hung his head and rocked slightly from side to side. He made a truly sorry picture. "I'd better leave before I do any more harm."
      "Donny, I'm sorry. I let my worries get away from me, and took my frustration out on you. Please, don't leave now."
      "I don't think I can stay, Sara. I won't go back to the dealership. You need a free hand there. I don't think I could stand being cooped up here with Dad all the time."
      "Just for a few days," she pleaded.
      "If I stay on for a while, what will you tell Dad when I go?"
      "I'll think of something. It depends on his health."
      Donny snorted. "I don't know if I'll come back. You can't make excuses for me forever."
      "It won't be forever," she protested. "He'll be back at his desk soon."
      "You may want to discuss that with Doc Biggers, before you start making any long-range plans." Donny put his glass on the coffee table between them and stood.
      "So you'll stay?"
      "I'll try, Sara." He shook his head. "But I can't promise how long I'll hold out."
      It wasn't the answer she wanted, but before she could press for more, someone knocked at the den door.
      "Come in," Donny called out.
      The nurse stepped inside. She had her purse on her shoulder and a suitcase in one hand. "I'm certain you understand that I can't stay, Mr. Carson." She looked at Donny.
      Donny frowned and looked at Sara, a confused plea in his eyes.
      Sara didn't respond.
      He continued, "Mrs. Deavers, please don't leave. I promise my father won't manhandle you again."
      "You have no control over what he will do, young man."
      Donny rubbed his knuckles and turned to Sara once again.
      She gave in to this second, mute plea. "Surely we can work something out, Mrs. Deavers. I'm Carl's daughter. Won't you at least stay until we can find someone else?"
      "No. I refuse to take physical abuse from any patient. It's wrong of you to ask it of me."
      Sara nodded. She had to agree. "You're right of course. I'm sorry."
      Nurse Deavers turned. "So am I, Miss. I'll see myself out."
      "Thanks for handling that, Sara." Donny rose from his chair.
      "You're welcome." She stared at the space where the nurse had stood.
      "I'll say goodnight then." He moved to the door.
      "Goodnight Donny. See you tomorrow."
      "Yeah, tomorrow." He shut the door behind him.
      Sara returned to the plate-glass windows. "What do I do now?" she wondered aloud, watching the waves creep up the shore.
      They didn't answer.

Chapter 3

     Sara was late. "I need the McKinley file on my desk, now! And tell Gene Reynard I want to see him in fifteen minutes." Sara rushed past Carol, her secretary, and slammed into the dealership CEO's office. She strode to the closet, dropping her purse on her father's desk as she went. No, she thought as she hung up her sweater, the desk, like the office was hers now. Temporarily, yes, but hers nonetheless.
      Before her appointment with Josh, she needed to study the contract for the warehouse. Carson's had been running in the red. Donny didn't know for how long. Her father probably arranged the Mega Motors deal to put Carson's back in the black. If she didn't get the warehouse back, Carson's could go under. She needed time to prevent that, time she didn't have.
      She'd waited two hours before giving up on the promised new nurse. Despite last night's argument, she decided to leave Dad in Donny's care until the nurse showed.
      Sara sat down and penned a note to McKinley. The delay was annoying, but not disastrous, if he would agree to meet her at 1:00 instead of 12:30. Just as Sara signed her name, her secretary came in with the McKinley file. "Carol, have someone run this over to the back lot warehouse and give it to Mr. McKinley."  
      "Right." Carol turned to leave.
      "McKinley and nobody else."
      "Yes Ms. Carson."
      When Gene Reynard, the dealership's lawyer, ambled into the office twenty minutes later, Sara tugged at her hair and a snarl marred her face.
      "Nice to see you too," Gene sat in the chair across from Sara's desk.
      "Gene, I've studied the McKinley contract for the past fifteen minutes, and I can't find the escape clause. I know we never lease anything without that clause."
      He folded his hands and examined his fingernails. "There isn't one."
      "What?"
      "I said that contract has no escape clause."
      "McKinley implied as much when I ran into him at the warehouse yesterday. I didn't believe him. All of Carson's contracts have escape clauses! Please explain."
      "Mr. McKinley wouldn't sign unless we removed the clause."
      "So why is his company still in our warehouse? Daddy would never do business without that clause."
      "That's right, but your daddy didn't sign that contract."
      "That was something else McKinley said that I could hardly believe." Certain of what she would find, Sara flipped through the contract's pages until she came to the signatures. "Donny." She slumped her shoulders. She checked the date in a vain hope that a discrepancy would invalidate the document.
      "Yes'm, that's Donny's signature, and mine right next to it."
      She looked up at the hefty man across from her. "You knew better than this, Gene. How could you let my brother lease the warehouse to a McKinley, let alone do it without an escape clause?"
      "I didn't have much choice Miss Carson. I told Donny it was the wrong thing to do. But you know how he gets when somebody tells him he's making a mistake. The minute I mentioned how your father did business, Donny said something about making things change and ordered me, as his attorney, to witness his signature."    
      Sara thumped her elbows onto the desk, then cradled her forehead in her hands.
      "What are the options, Gene?"
      "The lease payment is pretty hefty. Presuming Carson's had the funds we could buy the lease back. If McKinley is willing."
      "I doubt McKinley would go for that. We couldn't afford it if he did."
      "Barring a buy back, he'd have to break the lease."
      "If McKinley breaks the lease, the warehouse reverts to us. Am I correct?"
      The lawyer steepled his fingers and narrowed his gaze. "Yes. The only option he holds is for renewal. If he sublets, vacates, or defaults, we might have grounds for eviction."
      Sara sat back in her chair. The slap of her hands on the desk cracked in the air. "Then I'll simply have to persuade Mr. McKinley that breaking his lease is in his best interests."
      "Mr. McKinley's a mighty stubborn man, Miss Carson."
      "And I can be mighty persuasive, when I need to be."
      "Yes'm that you can. If anybody can talk Mr. McKinley outta that lease, it's probably you." Gene stood. "Will there be anything else, Miss Carson?"
      "No Gene, that's fine. I'll want you here first thing tomorrow morning to go over the books with me and the accountants."
      "I'll be here. By the way," he said as he opened the door, "how's your Daddy?"
      "Daddy's doing nicely, thank you for asking." Aware that the two men were old friends, Sara suggested, "Maybe you could stop by for a visit in a couple of days."
      "I'll surely do that, Miss Carson. Nice talking to you." He stepped out and closed the door behind him.   
      Sara worked through until noon. If McKinley got the note she sent this morning, she had just enough time to step down to the body shop and have a word with the crew about the surface damage on the lot cars.
      As Sara stalked across the back lot, the crew's voices still rang in her ears.
      "We don't know who's damaging those cars Miss Carson. But we resent being accused of shoddy work."            
     "You can't expect us to inspect every piece that enters and leaves the shop and do our own jobs as well."             "The foreman should do that."
      "Ain't our fault if Carson's don't want to keep a foreman."
       If the body shop wasn't falling down on the job, how were her cars getting scratched and dented?
      She looked over the group of men, until she came to a familiar face. "Steve Chavez, do you think you can do the job of prep and body foreman?"
      "Yes ma'am."
      "Are the rest of you men willing to work for Steve?"
      The group nodded.
      "Okay. Steve, I expect the damaged cars to be repaired within the week. On Monday, I want an explanation of how the damage occurred, so we can prevent the problem from happening again."
      "You bet."
      She had confidence that Steve Chavez would make every effort to discover the source of the damage. But she'd hoped for a more immediate answer.
      Like the heat, the problem continued to nag. She arrived at the door of the warehouse hot and dusty from her travel across the used car portion of Carson's Cars. This was no way to confront McKinley.
      A brief glance showed the Caddy gleaming black and silver in the sun, a classic reminder of why she had to get its owner to revoke the lease. Carson's offered top quality products. Without a top quality showroom, Carson's might well disappear.
      She took a deep breath, tried to gather her thoughts and knocked.
      Be assertive, be positive, be reasonable. Silently she chanted the mantra that had seen her through confrontations with board members of multinational industries, Aleut Indians, and dozens of government administrators. She would offer to help McKinley move. The idea was a good one, a reasonable one. Like any reasonable businessman, McKinley would agree with her.
      The door remained closed. Heat beat up from the pavement. The sun broiled down. A drop of sweat trickled slowly between her shoulder blades and made her back itch. She gave her shoulders a small, side to side wiggle to ease the discomfort and knocked again. Nothing. What was going on? Her note said 1:00 P.M. sharp. She checked her watch, five after.
      Another drop followed the first. Her skin crawled. The urge to scratch increased to a demand. She arched her back, bent her arm at an awkward angle and stretched her fingers toward the irritated spot just above her bra strap. A large warm hand closed over her fingers and held them in place before she could reach the itch.
      "Allow me." A voice like smoke and honey eased over her shoulder. At the same time ten firm points of pressure scratched in a circle that soothed the irritated spot, then broadened gradually to encompass her entire back, easing unrecognized tension.
      "Aahhh," she purred and inhaled the scent of bay and spices. He smells good enough to eat.
      Josh let go of her hand and her arm dropped limp at her side.
      "Better?" He'd thought of nothing but Sara since she'd walked into the warehouse yesterday.
      "Mm-hmm."
      He allowed his hands to travel up her back and grasped her neck where his fingers began to stroke and rub. Within seconds Sara's head dropped forward. Her body swayed back and met his. Soft against hard. His blood sizzled with heat. Blazing coals would be cool by comparison. He didn't want to move.
      He halted his massage and shifted his hands to her shoulders. Sara just stood, leaning against him, relaxed.
      "Hello, Sara."
      Her shoulders stiffened a bit. "McKinley?"
      Behind her he smiled. She couldn't deny knowing who he was simply by touch.
      "Yeah, it's me."
      She turned easily under the pressure of those large hands. Dressed in suit and tie, an older version of her teenage crush stood before her.
      "Hello!"
      The word shaped her mouth perfectly for his kiss. Stunned, astonished, amazed, flabbergasted, surprised, none of the words that came to mind were strong enough. This was Josh. His kiss told her. The firm, gentle lips that nibbled and pressed her own apart, said so. The tongue that stroked the inner surface of her mouth with piercing sweetness said so. The flavor that was his alone shouted "Josh."
      But the lean, strong-jawed face that grinned down at her belonged to a man, not a boy. A youth she could look in the eye had broken her heart, not this man who topped her by a good half foot. That boy had rich chestnut locks. The man's hair was a dark auburn with a shock of white streaking back from the left temple. The eyes. The only eyes she'd ever known that made the summer sky look washed out and the ocean pale. Those eyes belonged to Josh.
      Did he let go or did she push away? She stood unsteady on her own. "Josh."
      "At your service, Miss Carson." He swept her a ridiculous and enchanting bow.
      "What...what happened to you?"
      "I grew up." He put a hand into a pocket and drew out a key.
      "But you're the same age as I am."
      He moved to unlock the door. "Not everyone matures at the same rate, Pipsqueak."
      "Please, don't call me that." She murmured the protest weakly. The name called back a time when she had towered a good two inches over every other girl in school. She'd had a tremendous ego, and he'd teased her to cut her down to size.
      "Your hair?" Unaware, she reached out to stroke the blaze of white.
      "Hair color tends to darken as you get older."
      "No, this?" Her fingers feathered through the smooth strands.
      "Oh, that." He opened the door and ushered her into the dim interior of the concrete warehouse. "I fell off a bull, and his horn got me before I could get away."

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Copyright,
Susan C. Charnley,
January 2006.
Most recent update,
October 2008

Top border art courtesy of  
Bradley W. Schenck, http://www.webomator.com/bws.