Free Paradise County by Karen Robards Page B

see fit that runs through December of next year. That means, to begin with, that there is not going to be any fire-sale of the horses.”
    Why would this man not simply give up? He was looking at her as if he held all four aces in a hand of poker. The thing to do was to keep her own cool, spell the situation out to him in terms he could understand, and then maybe he would finally leave her in peace.
    “Where is this contract? Can I see it?”
    “It’s in my office. It’s legally valid, believe me. Your lawyers drew it up.” There was the faintest hint of mockery in his tone.
    Alex’s patience stretched nearly to the breaking point. “So you have a contract. Well, good for you! Tell me, Mr. Welch, did you ever hear the expression, you can’t get blood from a stone?”
    His eyebrows knit, and he regarded her suspiciously. “A time or two. What about it?”
    “My father’s estate is the stone. In other words, if you still don’t get it, there is no money. If your contract is valid—which I am going to leave up to my lawyers to determine because at this point I really just don’t care one way or the other—the estate may be able to come to some arrangement with you about the salary you’re owed. Or maybe not, depending upon the finances involved. But either way, there is simply no money to be spared for the continued operation of Whistledown Farm. Everythinghas to be closed down, contract or no contract. My father’s estate will be lucky to escape bankruptcy.”
    “Don’t give me that. Your father is—was—one of the richest men in the world.”
    “Was being the operative word. Some of his investments were high-risk. They went bad. When the news of his death got out, the value of his company plummeted. Then everything else he owned went down the toilet after the company stock. There is nothing, or at least very little, left. Almost everything my father owned is being sold.” She managed to say it with cool matter-of-factness, revealing none of the shame and disbelief and fear with which she still faced the news.
    He was staring at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted horns. “Is that the truth?”
    “Cross my heart.” Her reply was flippant. She was proud of that. Never let them see you bleed. It was one of her father’s axioms.
    Another pang of grief assaulted her.
    “Is that why he … no.” Welch stopped himself before he could finish, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time since she had met him.
    “Why my father killed himself?” Amazing how she could so coolly say these things that were tearing her up inside, Alex thought with dispassion.
    “That’s what I was going to say, yes.” The man no longer looked uncomfortable. He looked insolent instead.
    “There’s no reason for you not to call a spade a spade, after all, is there, Mr. Welch? To answer your question—the one you almost asked but didn’t—I don’t know. He had made some bad investments, but if he hadn’t died he might have been able to recover. Our own company’s stock was still strong. I don’t know why he did it. We may never know.”
    “Like I said before, I’m sorry for your loss.” There was no softness in his voice or expression.
    “You found his body, didn’t you?” The question was abrupt. Her hands curled around the smooth leather arms of the chair for support.
    The lines around his eyes deepened as he met her gaze, and his mouth tightened.
    “Yeah, I did.”
    “Tell me about it.” The demand came out of its own volition. Breathe, she reminded herself. Breathe. That she disliked this man had no bearing on anything. Her need to know about the last chapter of her father’s life overrode all else.
    He hesitated before replying. “What do you want to know?”
    “Anything. Everything. The details.”
    He shook his head. “What for? There’s no point in getting yourself all upset.”
    “No point in getting myself all upset?” Her laugh was devoid of mirth. “No point in getting myself all