My Man Pendleton
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

PROLOGUE

Oh, Mama, what have you gone and done now?

Kit McClellan clapped a hand over her open mouth and marveled at what her mother’s attorney was telling the family she had left behind. Although the reading of a will wasn’t usually performed these days with the formality it once was, Hatton Abernathy had gathered the remaining McClellans together to do so, thereby fulfilling the late Lena Hensley McClellan’s final wishes.

And, evidently, to let fly a couple of the late Lena Hensley McClellan’s final zingers, too.

“The entire estate is to be placed in trust for two years,” Mr. Abernathy repeated, directing his words toward Kit’s father, Holt McClellan, Sr. “No one—neither you nor your children, nor anyone else for that matter—will be receiving an inheritance any time soon.”

To Kit, the announcement was immaterial. Frankly, she couldn’t care less about her mother’s money, and would gladly surrender every nickel if it meant bringing Mama back. Being rich had never made any of them particularly happy, anyway. Except, maybe, her father. She turned her attention to him to see how he was handling the news.

Oooh. Not well. She’d never seen his face turn quite that color before.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he told Mr. Abernathy. “Why would she put the entire estate into trust?”

“She never stated a reason,” the lawyer said blandly, “and I never asked for one. But at the end of that two years, she indicated that one of two things should happen.”

Kit’s father narrowed his eyes but said nothing, waiting for the attorney to continue.

“Mrs. McClellan had a rather strong fondness for six local charities, and she expressed a desire for those charities to inherit the entirety of her estate.”

“What?”

Kit flinched at the sound of the word, thundering throughout the room as it was when shouted by her four brothers in addition to her father. She glanced down the row of chairs to her left, to see how the rest of the McClellans were handling the news.

About as well as her father was, she decided. Bart, the youngest of her older brothers, looked dazed and stiff. Dirk, next up the line, looked dazed and surly. Mick, the second born, looked dazed and distracted. And Holt, Jr., the oldest, looked dazed and drunk. Yep. All of them seemed to be handling this pretty much the way she would have expected them to.

Mr. Abernathy went on as if no one had spoken. “One possible scenario of your wife’s wishes would be that, at the trust’s expiration, the business would be sold, the holdings would be dissolved, the assets would be liquidated, and all of it would be distributed to the organizations Mrs. McClellan indicated. One donation in your name, Mr. McClellan, and one in the names of each of your children.

Kit’s father paled. “We, uh, we’re talking about a hundred million dollars here, Abernathy.”

“Ninety-nine-point-four, actually,” the attorney corrected him.

No one said another word. In fact, the silence was so profound that Kit could scarcely hear a thing. Even the surly April wind outside seemed to have stopped blowing in light of the attorney’s announcement.

Her father finally interrupted the silence, voicing, Kit was sure, what was of utmost importance in his life. “I was under the impression that Lena’s money would come directly to me,” he told Mr. Abernathy. “Why would she change her will this way?”

The attorney eyed her father coolly as he offered, “She never said.”

“Well, when did she do it?”

“Almost three years ago.”

“Three years ago?” Holt, Sr. roared. “My wife changed her entire will, stripped her family of everything, and no one bothered to inform me for three years?”

“Mrs. McClellan asked me to keep the change confidential,” Mr. Abernathy said smoothly. “And frankly, Mr. McClellan, it was none of your business.”

“None of my business.”

Uh-oh, Kit thought. Her father was getting way too calm now. Then again, so was Mr. Abernathy. He actually appeared to dislike her father, which was very surprising. Not the part about him disliking her father—that was no surprise at all. There weren’t that many people who did like her father. What was surprising that Mr. Abernathy would make no secret of his animosity. People always at least pretended to like her father.

“I don’t think I need to remind you, Mr. McClellan,” the attorney said, “that the money was never yours to begin with.”

A muscle in her father’s jaw twitched. Hoo-boy, was he mad.

“No. You don’t need to remind me. My father-in-law, God rest his miserable soul, always made it clear that I would never get my hands on the Hensley fortune as long as he—and his daughter—were alive. But after he died, Lena agreed that if she went before I did, I was to inherit the bulk of the estate. And I made damned sure things were in order.”

Mr. Abernathy’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Yes, well, the money was still hers to do with as she pleased until she died. It pleased her to give it to charity.”

Holt, Sr. emitted a derisive snort. “And she never gave you a reason for why she wanted the change?” he asked again.

“None.” Mr. Abernathy seemed to weigh his options for a moment, then added, “Although she appeared to be quite angry about something at the time.”

“Angry?” her father echoed. “What the hell did Lena ever have to be angry about? She had a perfect life.”

Oh, now that, Kit thought, was open to debate. Naturally, her father would think her mother’s life was perfect. What had he ever bothered to learn about Mama’s experiences, anyway? Jack, that’s what. Although to all outward appearances, the McClellans of Louisville, Kentucky, certainly seemed to have it all—wealth, prominence, education, fame, you name it—Mama would have had a thing or two to say about the actual quality of life in the McClellan household. Starting with the quality of her own. What on earth could have happened between her parents “almost three years ago” that would have made Mama do something like this? Knowing her parents, it could have been anything.

Only four days had passed since her mother’s death, but Kit felt an emptiness inside herself that seemed to go on forever. She felt lost without her mother. Mama had always been the one stable force in her life. She’d been the only person who ever stood up for Kit, the only one who ever even tried to understand her. The only person, really, who’d ever loved her. And Mama had been Kit’s only advocate during that whole Michael Derringer thing three years—