Part 19 (2/2)

Zach reached toward her, cupped her cheek with his hand. ”I wouldn't want that. I like you just the way you are. I wouldn't change a thing.” A last soft kiss and he took her arm, led her around to the driver's side door of her car, then waited as she settled inside.

”I'll keep you posted,” he said when she rolled down her window. ”You do the same.”

”I will. Good night, Zach.”

”Good night, baby.”

She watched him in the mirror as she drove away, saw his headlights appear behind her as he followed to make sure she safely reached her house, and wondered if she had made the right decision.

Seventeen.

Carson Harcourt sat in his study, poring over the production records for the month. It took a moment for the light knock on his door to penetrate his thoughts. When he looked up, he saw his housekeeper, Isabel Flores, standing in the open doorway.

”I am sorry to bother you, Se”or Harcourt, but your brother just drove up in front of the house. I thought you would want to know.”

”I appreciate that. Thank you, Isabel.” Carson watched her walk off down the hall, hips swaying, full b.r.e.a.s.t.s jiggling, and thought how smart he had been to hire her. She was wise enough to treat him with respect whenever she was working in the house, and she knew how to please him in bed.

His groin tightened. He'd been busy lately, getting ready for the lettuce harvest. He'd also been working with Walter Simino, preparing to launch his campaign for the a.s.sembly, which he would begin in early spring, starting with a big barbecue to announce his candidacy. With so much on his mind, he could use a little s.e.xual relief and Isabel managed that quite nicely.

And since she was in the country without a green card, he didn't have to worry about her giving him any trouble. Carson made a mental note to pay the girl a visit tonight.

He was smiling as he looked up to see his brother walk through the door. The smile instantly faded.

”Well, look who's here. What brings you out from under your rock, today, Zach?”

Zach's expression remained bland. After years of goading, he had taught himself incredible control. Only the faint tick of a muscle along his jaw said Carson's jibe had been effective.

”Something came up. I thought you might be interested.”

”Really. Something like what?”

”A guy called me a couple of days ago. He was working on a book about agriculture in the San Joaquin Valley. He was interested in Harcourt Farms. He thought I might be able to help him with some of the history.”

”You're right, that is interesting. Are you sure this isn't going to have some kind of negative slant?”

”He's just concerned with the history.”

”Have him give me a call. I'll see what I can do.”

”He wanted me to talk to some of the longtime workers, see what they might remember about the place in the old days. I figured you wouldn't have time. I told him I'd give it a try, see what I could turn up.”

The last thing Carson wanted was to spend time with his farm workers. That's why he hired overseers.

”I told him I'd talk to you about it,” Zach continued. ”I figure once he gets the basics, he'll want to talk to you about the other aspects of the farming operation.”

Now that was more like it. He wouldn't mind having something written about him and the success of Harcourt Farms, as long as it had a positive ring. Let Zach do the unpleasant legwork.

Still, there was something in his half brother's manner that bothered him. Zach was never much good at lying. Carson wondered how he managed to earn those fat legal fees he got in L.A.

”All right, go ahead. Stiles hasn't been here that long. He probably wouldn't do you any good.” Lester Stiles was foreman of Harcourt Farms, Carson's right-hand man. ”Mariano Nunez has probably been working here the longest. He lives in the third house down the row.”

”Yeah, I remember him. He ran the orchard crew back when I was in high school. I remember he was my boss when I worked the shaker in the almond harvest.”

”Maybe the old man can tell you something of interest. And tell your guywhat did you say his name was?”

Zach glanced away, a sure sign he wasn't being completely honest. ”Steven Baines.”

”Tell Baines to call me. I'll set aside some time for an interview.”

Zach just nodded. ”Great. Thanks. You wouldn't have any kind of list, would you? Something that might tell the names of the people who worked here over the years?”

Carson eyed Zach warily. He didn't like the direction this conversation was going. ”No. Why would you need a list?”

Zach shrugged, but his shoulders looked tense. ”I just thought it might be useful, jog some memories. At any rate, the next time I talk to him, I'll tell Baines to give you a call.”

Carson watched his brother walk out of the study, more certain than ever that something was going on. He'd find out what. He practically ran San Pico. People told him whatever he wanted to know. Well, he wanted to know what Zach was up to and it wouldn't take him long to find out.

Carson picked up the phone.

Zach left the house and headed for the workers' compound. He still had a bad taste in his mouth from his conversation with Carson. He hated to ask the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for anything. He just hoped the result would be worth it.

It was Sunday, a day off for a number of people on the farm so there were more people than usual around the housing area. Zach spent the morning talking to some of the longtime workers, and the head overseer, Mariano Nunez, a weathered old Mexican who had been employed by Harcourt Farms for more than thirty years.

”I remember the old gray house,” the old man said. ”I had friends who lived there the Espinozas. Juan Espinoza came up with me from Mexico.”

The old man remembered a couple of other residents who had lived in the wood-framed house over the years. The Rodriquez family had been the only other residents of the new yellow house besides the Santiagos. The last resident of the gray house, a man named Axel Whitman, had lived alone for a number of years. Zach wrote down all of the names Mariano could remember, but he didn't know where any of them had gone after they left the farm.

Juan Espinoza and his family had lived there the longest, Mariano told him, then moved to a farming community near Fresno, where Juan had later died. As far as the old man could recall, no one had ever died in the house, at least not in the thirty years he had lived on the farm.

Zach didn't see the foreman, Les Stiles, anywhere around but he wouldn't talk to the man if he did. Stiles kissed Carson's a.s.s, big-time. Odds were, he wouldn't know anything useful and asking him questions might make Carson suspicious.

Zach thought about calling Liz with the morning's unhelpful information, but decided against it. He needed to go out to Teen Vision, see how things were coming along with the barn.

Maybe instead of calling, he'd stop by her house before he drove back to L.A.

Raul Perez hung up the phone in the hall outside his dorm room. He had called his sister, but Maria was away at the grocery store, so he had talked to Miguel instead. It wasn't a pleasant conversation. His brother-in-law had ranted and raved, furious at Maria, angry at her friend, Elizabeth Conners, and the brother of the man who owned Harcourt Farms.

”Your sister thinks there is a ghost in the house. She is acting completely crazy. I cannot believe it!”

”Maybe there is a ghost,” Raul said softly.

”Por Dios, if you believe that, you are as crazy as she is! If there is a ghost, why have I not seen it? Why is it just your sister?”

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