Whatever his name, she knew he must help her. That was the only thing she knew for absolute sure, because somewhere under his dark exterior, he was Cole. The pain and hardness in his eyes were from what happened to Cole and from what had been done
to Ruth’s youngest child. Cole had managed to avoid the hatred by pretending it didn’t happen. Or maybe he was just so happy to have been given a chance to live as an adult that he had filled his time on earth with love.
And revenge, she thought, remembering that during those ten days he’d been gone, he’d rid the world of the man who had caused his family to be killed. But she couldn’t believe that revenge was the full reason Cole had been given a second chance at life, even so brief a second chance.
And now Ruth had done what she could to enable Kady to give Cole and all the inhabitants of Legend a real chance at life.
Tarik must help, went through her mind again; then she thought of him in the ways she had seen him: in her dreams, and, yesterday, in his office, with his sneering remarks. He was not going to help her just for the asking.
“What do I own?” she asked Mr. Fowler.
“Basically, everything. All assets that Ruth Jordan owned at the time of her death, which were several million, and everything made from those assets in the ensuing years were put into trust for you, to be administered by the descendants of her youngest son. There was a further stipulation that the eldest son of each generation be named Cole Tarik Jordan.” Mr. Fowler’s eyes twinkled, and Kady thought he’d probably never done anything he liked as much as telling someone that she owned everything that had once belonged to C. T. Jordan. “Of course over the years the name has become unfashionable, and it is a closely guarded secret what the initials stand for.”
Kady nodded, as she’d already encountered that secret. “Do I own the clothes on his back, that sort of thing?” she asked earnestly.
At that Mr. Fowler frowned, and she could tell that he thought her greedy or vengeful or something else equally dreadful. Or maybe he was just concerned about lawsuits involving what he had or had not done.
She leaned forward on the sofa. “Mr. Fowler,” she said, “you are obviously the attorney representing at least part of the wealth that once belonged to C. T. Jordan, and since that wealth now belongs to me, may I assume that you will now be my attorney? May I speak to you in confidence?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered, and she could see that he was relieved as well as curious.
She held up the letter. “Ruth Jordan has asked me to do something for her. What that is, I can’t reveal, but I believe I am going to have to enlist the help of Tarik, er, ah, C. T. Jordan. You know him, I’ve met him, and I think we are both safe in saying that he’ll refuse to help me. Unless I can blackmail him in some way, that is. I want to know everything I own, especially anything personal, like those swords of his, that I can use to make him help me. And I want you to start drawing up a contract that states that if he helps me to my satisfaction, everything will be returned to him. Every penny. I want nothing.”
Mr. Fowler smiled indulgently. “I think that’s very noble of you, but I don’t think you have any idea how much you’re giving away. You could keep a few million and he wouldn’t miss it.”
At that Kady blinked, and her first thought was that she wanted enough to open a nice restaurant, in Seattle maybe, with classrooms attached and lifetime funding so she could teach free cooking classes. It was on the tip of her tongue to say just that, but she didn’t. It wasn’t her money, and she had no right to it. “I will take nothing over what is needed for the job.”
“I don’t think you realize—”
“No, Mr. Fowler, I don’t think you realize what this is all about. If Ruth hadn’t asked this of me, I would sign everything over to her descendants this minute, but I can’t. As she says, I’ll need power, and money will give me that power. Now, would you tell me what I need to know?”
He sat there for a moment, still smiling, and Kady could tell what he was thinking. She might believe she could give away all rights to that money, but when the time came, would she be able to? But what he didn’t know was that Kady had seen firsthand the great evil that money could cause. The shots fired by the people of Legend in an attempt to protect their wealth had caused a hundred years of misery. No, she didn’t want any of Ruth’s money.
“All right,” he said when Kady said no more. “Shall we start going over the portfolios? It will take a while.”
“I plan to dedicate every minute of my time to this until it is finished,” she said, and for all the nobility of her words, she could have burst into tears. Would the jobs still be open a few months from now? A year? She might be a star in the cooking world today, but people had short memories. Six months from now it might be, “Kady who?”
She took a deep breath. “Shall we get started?”
Chapter 23
AS SHE TURNED THE WHEEL OF THE HEAVY, POWERFUL RANGE Rover sharply, Kady concentrated on staying out of the center gully in the old dirt road that led straight up the side of the mountain.
It had been several days since her confrontation with Tarik Jordan in his office, and for all of those days she had cursed herself for ever thinking he would help her. What in the world had made her think he’d do anything to help anyone?
As the car hit the gulley, sending everything in the back flying upward, Kady swallowed hard. “I will not cry,” she said, holding on to the steering wheel with all her might. “Will not, will not, will not.” But keeping the tears back was almost impossible. With a glance skyward, she wondered if Ruth Jordan was looking down on her in disgust. She had every right to, since Kady had failed at every attempt to help correct the evil that had happened in the past.
It was amazing to think that during the past days since she had been told she owned all the Jordan money, one person could have made so very many errors, in such a short time. In fact, thinking back on it, had she even done one teeny, tiny thing right? No, now that she looked at it, everything she had tried to do she had screwed up. Not just a little bit but in a great big flashy way.
First there had been Mr. Fowler. What was it she had told herself early on that first day? It was something grand and noble about how she knew what evil money could do, so she’d not be tempted by the Jordan wealth, no matter how tempting it was.
How little we know ourselves! she thought with disgust as she turned the wheel hard.
That day in Fowler’s office had been seductive, oh, so very seductive. Going from being Nobody to Somebody was so very pleasurable. All day she had been wined and dined and feted in a way that was guaranteed to make her forget all her noble thoughts.
She had to give it to Fowler: he missed nothing. The law firm’s private chef had left his kitchen and come out to meet Kady, then humbly asked her to show him how to make her squab with currant sauce, which he been told of and had never been able to duplicate. While everyone watched and applauded, she had demonstrated that she knew her way around a kitchen, using her own knives, which she happened to have brought with her. As a result of limitless praise, she had done the unthinkable: she had usurped another cook’s kitchen. But the chef must have been well coached (and well paid), because he never made a hint of protest, and Kady had come away walking on clouds, feeling that she was the greatest cook on earth.
All that day had been like that. She had been asked her advice, listened to, consulted. It seemed that everything she said was wise and worth noting.