“Not bad, huh,” Lane said softly.

Lenghe wheeled around and clutched his heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wander. Well, I did. But I figured you and that lady could use some privacy.”

Lane came into the room and paused at the pool table. The balls were in the rack and ready to go, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had put a cue stick to them.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “And your help. You cut the time that debacle would have taken in half.”

“Well, without meaning any disrespect to the lady, I can kind of see why you might encourage her to find happier lodging somewhere else.”

Lane laughed. “You Midwesterners have the nicest way of putting down someone.”

“Can I ask you something?” Lenghe pivoted back to the painting. “This nameplate here … it says …”

“Yes, it is a Rembrandt. And it’s been authenticated by multiple sources. All the paperwork on it is somewhere in this house. In fact, last year a private collector who came to the Derby Brunch offered my father forty-five million for it—or so I heard.”

Lenghe put his hands in his pockets as if he were worried that they might make contact with the oil painting’s surface.

“Why is it hidden all the way in here?” The man glanced around. “Not that this isn’t a grand room or anything. I just don’t understand why a masterpiece like this wouldn’t be displayed more prominently, maybe in that pretty parlor up front.”

“Oh, there’s a good reason for it. My grandmother, Big V.E. as she was called, didn’t approve of gambling, drinking, or smoking. She bought the painting overseas back in the nineteen fifties and installed it here so that anytime my grandfather and his good ol’ boys had a hankering to be sinful, they had a reminder of exactly who they were letting down.”

Lenghe laughed. “Smart woman.”

“She and my grandfather collected Old Masters paintings. They’re all over the house—but this one is probably among the most valuable even though it’s on the small side.”

“I wish my wife could see this. I’d take a picture on my phone, but it wouldn’t do it justice. You have to stand in front of it in person. It’s the eyes, you know?”

“She’s welcome here anytime.”

“Well, my wife, she doesn’t like to travel. It’s not that she’s worried about flying or anything. She just hates to leave her cows and her chickens. She doesn’t trust anyone with them or the dogs. Not even me. Those animals and those birds are her babies, you know.”

As Lenghe refocused on the masterpiece with a wistful expression on his face, Lane frowned and put a hip on the pool table.

“You really like it, don’t you,” Lane said.

“Oh, yes.”

Lane palmed the white cue ball and threw the thing up in the air a couple of times, catching it as he thought.

“You know,” he said, “there have been some changes at the Bradford Bourbon Company since you and I saw each other last.”

Lenghe looked over his shoulder. “I read about them in the paper. New interim CEO, an outsider. Smart move—and you want a numbers cruncher if you’re going to exert control over the finances. And I should have congratulated you right away, Chairman of the Board.”

Lane bowed his head. “Thank you. And yes, we are developing a plan that optimizes cash flow. I think I see a path out of our black hole, thanks to Jeff.”

As thunder rattled the French doors, Lenghe nodded. “I have faith in you, son.”

“My point is, I think I can safely say that if you give us only two months of grain on account, we should be okay. We’ll give you favorable terms, of course. But really, after what Jeff is proposing to do, that should keep us going.”

“So are you saying you don’t want to throw cards with me, son?”

“Not at all.” Lane narrowed his eyes. “Actually, I have something else you might be interested in playing for.”

• • •

Thanks to the thunderstorms that were bubbling up over the flat stretches of the Plains states and drifting over Indiana and Kentucky, the heat of the afternoon was mercifully sapped.

And that meant Edward was enjoying the work he was doing out at the Red & Black.

No broom on the end of a stick, though. Not this time.

As rain began to fall once again from the purple and gray sky, and lightning made more shows of strength, he lowered the hammer in his hand and wiped his brow with his free arm. It had been … years … since he’d tended fences, and he already knew, going by the aches in his shoulders, that he was going to pay for this folly for days afterward. But as he looked down the five-rail, brown-painted track that cut through this pasture, and as he counted the number of nails he’d added and loose boards he’d secured, a flush of simple pride went through him.

Yes, he’d been at it for only an hour and he was about ready to quit. And indeed, a real man would have been working the fields for eight or ten at a clip.

But it was a start.

Right before the ending.

As he limped back to the Red & Black pick-up with his bag of supplies, he thought about the vodka he’d brought with him but had left in the cab.

He was going to need just a little more. But not much.

Getting behind the wheel, he shut himself in and took out his flask. One sip. Two sips. Then he washed it down with Gatorade like it was medicine. If he had another two days, given the way the DTs were easing, he was probably going to be fine. He wasn’t sure things were going to hold until then, however.

Starting the engine, he began the trek back to the cottage, bumping along the cropped bluegrass, catching the attention of a hawk that was up in one of the shade trees by the water trough, flushing a couple of sparrows from a nest on a low-hanging branch.

Edward was careful to memorize everything about the gentle rolling land … and the way the fences cut man-made lines into the fragrant green expanse … and how the looming majesty of the red and gray slate-roofed barns made him think of his grandfather. As sweat rolled down between his shoulder blades, he still didn’t put the air-conditioning on in the cab. Anyone who had ever done physical labor knew that once hot, stay hot. Short-term relief in your truck was just going to make your body temperature problems worse when you had to get back out into the heat.