Her banker was surprisingly silent while she told him her plans. Her attorney was, too, when she called to say that she wanted him to use the auction’s proceeds to fund a charity.
“A charity?” he choked.
“Yes. I’m not sure what kind yet—we’ll just put the money into a trust or something for the time being. Can we do that?”
“Well, yes, Miss Landon, but—”
“Good,” Kyra said briskly, and hung up.
Late that afternoon, head bent against yet another snowstorm, she was fighting her way uphill from the stables when she stumbled into a broad-shouldered male figure.
Her heart did a swift, double-step beat.
“Antonio?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Good afternoon, Miss Landon.”
Kyra swallowed hard and silently cursed herself for being a fool. It was her attorney, Carl Higgins—and standing just behind him, like a Gordon setter honoring a point, was Regis Emory, her banker.
“Mr. Higgins. And Mr. Emory. What a pleasant surprise.” She stomped past them toward the door of the house. “Won’t you come in?”
After a few minutes of polite chitchat, Higgins got to the point.
“Miss Landon,” he said with a bright smile, “Mr. Emory and I have been talking.”
“Indeed,” Kyra said with an equally bright smile. “About me?”
“Well, yes. We have some concerns, you see. About your plans.”
Kyra didn’t say anything. Higgins looked at Emory, then at her.
“We cannot imagine your father would approve.”
Kyra’s smile hardened. “Neither can I But I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”
“Miss Landon—” Emory, the banker, gave her a paternal smile “—isn’t it foolish, such formality? Why don’t we simply call you ‘Kyra’?”
Kyra sat down in a wing chair and crossed her legs. “That’s fine with me, Regis.”
The banker’s false smile quivered at the edges. “Ah—ah, where was I?”
“I’m not sure, Regis. I think you were about to tell me that I was making a terrible mistake, planning alterations for this house and selling off my father’s things.”
“Ah, well…”
“And you, Carl,” Kyra said, turning to the attorney, “were going to say that my father would never approve of my using the money from the sale to fund a charity. Isn’t that right?”
Emory and Higgins exchanged a swift look, and then Higgins cleared his throat.
“Kyra, my dear,” he said, “we know the past months have been a strain for you. You are not yourself, and-”
“On the contrary. I am very much myself, Carl.”
“What we suggest is that you put yourself in our hands.” His smile was patronizing enough to make Kyra’s teeth ache. “We can understand your wish to make some changes in your life. Perhaps what you need is a vacation.”
“Thank you for your advice, but I’ve already had one.”
“Is that what you were doing in Venezuela?” Emory said. “You never did explain why I had to wire you money a few months ago.”
“No I never did. And I’m not going to.” Kyra rose and regarded them both coolly. “Now, if that’s all…?”
“Kyra, surely you can see our only concern is for your best interests.”
“What I can see is that your concern is for what Charles Landon would want.”
“Dearest Kyra—”
“On second thought, I would much prefer it if you’d call me Miss Landon.”
“Kyra—Miss Landon—as your father’s representatives, we must advise you against destroying his home and selling off his property!”
“It isn’t his home,” Kyra said. “Nor is it his property. It’s mine. And if you two can’t understand that and see yourselves as my representatives instead of his, I’ll replace you.” Head high, she marched to the library door. “Good day, gentlemen. I’m sure you can find your own way out.”
It didn’t really surprise her when the nhone rang a couple of hours later. It was a conference call from Zach and Grant, who stumbled through some inconsequential small talk before getting to the point.
Was it true that she was tearing down the mansion, selling off everything in it, and giving all her money away?
Kyra sighed. “I’m not tearing the house down,” she said, “but I am planning renovations. And I’m not going to sell everything—whatever stuff you want, you’re more than welcome to. And no, I’m not giving all my money away. I’m only designating the profits from the sale of the furnishings to a charity.”
“What charity?” Grant said.
A scholarship fund for underprivileged Native American children, Kyra almost said. Instead, she frowned. Where had that idea come from?
“I’m—I’m not sure yet. Besides, what does it matter?”
Zach cleared his throat. What mattered, he said, was her. Had she really thought this through?
Yes, Grant added. Was she sure this was what she wanted to do?
Kyra sighed. “I’m absolutely certain.” Her brothers began talking at the same time. “Look,” she said, “it’s almost Christmas. Why don’t you guys fly out here for a couple of days? I know you’re busy, but this way I can meet your wives. And I’ll answer all your questions.”
“Good,” Grant said briskly. “And then we’ll decide what’s the best course of action.”
“No,” Kyra said gently but very firmly. “No, Grant, we won’t decide anything. I’ve already reached a decision. But I’m more than willing to try to make you understand it.”
After Kyra hung up, Grant and Zach stayed on the line.
“Something’s wrong,” Zach said.
Grant agreed. “She’s confused. She misses Father.”
“Yeah.” Zach sighed. “Well, we knew she would. She loved the old man a lot. Look, I’ve got a number somewhere for Cade. I’ll call him.”
“Fine. Tell him to meet us in Denver next week. Hell, we can’t let our baby sister screw up her life.”
Zach and Eve, Grant and Crista, all flew into Denver on the same day. It was snowing—there was nothing unusual in that. What was unusual was that it was Kyra who met them at the gate, not the Landon chauffeur.
After lots of hugs and kisses, Grant looked around.
“Where’s Jeffers?” he said.
Kyra, who was busy getting to know her new sistersin-law, gave him a distracted smile.
“He retired. Didn’t I mention it?”
“No. No, you didn’t. Who’d you hire in his place?”
“No one,” Kyra said. She leaned toward Crista and touched her index finger to one of Cnsta’s delicate silver earrings. “Did you make these? I just adore them!”
“Well,” Zach said, “never mind. We’ll hire a new chauffeur while we’re here. In the meanwhile, where’s the limousine driver?”
“No,” Kyra said, “you won’t hire a chauffeur. And you’re looking at the limousine driver.”
Zach and Grant stared at each other in horror. “You mean, you—you’ve been doing your own driving?” Grant sputtered.
“Why on earth not? I’ve had a license for years.”
“Well, during the summer I suppose it’s okay. But in snow, on these roads…”
“The Land Rover has four-wheel drive.”
“Yes, but-”
“Oh, Grant.” Crista looped her arm through her husband’s. “Stop sounding so stuffy! Kyra’s not a baby.”
“Of course she isn’t,” Zach said in a conciliatory tone. “It’s just that you girls don’t know what it’s like driving on these roads in winter.”
“Kyra grew up here,” Eve said as she took her husband’s arm. “Just like you guys. As for us ‘girls’…” Her delicate brows lifted. “Personally, I don’t see a girl in sight, darling. I see three perfectly capable grown women.”
Kyra laughed. She was, she could see, going to adore her sisters-in-law.
But Grant and Zach exchanged glances
that said maybe they should have left their wives at home.
Cade and Angelica flew in the next day, grubby and exhausted from a seemingly endless flight from Europe that had involved half a dozen layovers.
“We got married during the last one,” Cade said with a boyish grin. “Heck, there was nothing else to keep us occupied ”
Angelica gave him a gentle punch in the arm. “I’ve no idea why I love this man,” she said to her new family.
“Probably because I’m the only guy who’d ever put up with you,” Cade said, grinning even harder. “And because I love you so much you took pity on me.”
Everyone laughed, including Kyra. But her laugh caught in her throat. She had loved like this once, so deeply that everything else was unimportant.
No. No, it wasn’t true. Your own self-respect was always important. Besides, she hadn’t loved Antonio. She’d only thought she did.
Suddenly, horribly, her eyes filled with tears. Kyra pulled a tissue from her pocket and jammed it to her eyes.
“Coming down with a cold, Squirt?” Cade asked.
“Yes,” she sniffed, and he smiled.
But she hadn’t fooled her sisters-in-law.
“Kyra’s unhappy,” Eve whispered to Zach late that night.
“She’s depressed,” Crista murmured to Grant at almost the same moment.