Dove's Way by Linda Francis Lee Page B

silently repeating all the wonderful attributes Jeffrey Upton possessed.
    “I haven’t seen you since the Hawthornes’ party,” he added.
    “Speaking of which,” Hannah interjected, glancing at her granddaughter, “have you sent your thank-you note yet?”
    Finnea blinked. “Thank-you note?”
    Hannah’s lips pursed. “For the Hawthornes’ dinner party. Surely you have sent your thanks by now.”
    Finnea felt a traitorous blush sting her cheeks as she glanced between her mother and grandmother. She had never heard of a thank-you note. “I will send it right away.”
    Hannah stared at her with a disapproving scowl.
    But Leticia came around the table, her eyes alive with excitement as she took the seat a footman held for her. “Emmaline Hawthorne is a delightful woman. I’m sure she won’t mind that the note is a bit late. But enough of that. All the arrangements for the party are falling into place. It’s going to be fabulous.”
    Nester sat at the head of the table and unfolded his napkin with a snap. “Ah yes, Finnea’s birthday party? That should be interesting.” He chuckled. “What will you do to entertain us this time, little sis? You’ve already exhausted the handshake trick, and you can only eat shrubbery every so often before the novelty wears off.”
    Finnea blanched, but Nester was relentless. “Perhaps you could bark or growl? Maybe chant or dance?”
    Jeffrey sat forward in his chair. “You’re out of line, Nester.”
    The younger man’s eyes narrowed. “You are the one who’s out of line, Upton.”
    A silent, awkward moment passed.
    “I have a photograph of Father that I brought with me,” Finnea hurriedly interjected.
    Nester jerked around to face her, and something odd showed in his eyes. A flash of yearning, excitement? But before Finnea could make sense of it, the look was gone.
    “Let me see that,” he stated with a sniff of disdain.
    She handed him the photo of their father, tall and broad-shouldered, the red of his hair masked by the sepia coloring, but his wonderful smile looking nearly as real as it had been when he was alive. Her heart twisted with love at the sight. God, how she missed him.
    Nester sat for a minute, just staring, that look returning to his eyes, before Hannah reached over and took it.
    “He always was a handsome fellow,” she observed when she peered at the photo. “I’ll give him that.”
    “Yes,” Leticia said, her voice slightly breathless, staring at the photo when it came to her.
    Nester took it back. “What is this he’s standing in front of?”
    Finnea leaned over. “That’s our farm.”
    “Farm?” he demanded indignantly. “Our father was an explorer, not a farmer.”
    “Yes, he was an explorer, but we owned a farm as well. A rubber farm.”
    “A rubber farm? Good God, what is that?”
    “Three thousand acres of wild rubber-producing vines combined with several hundred more acres of land that Father cleared and planted with rows of tall, thin rubber trees.”
    Nester was stunned. “Why haven’t I heard of this before? Upton, have you heard of this rubber farm?”
    “No, I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
    “Well, it must be a disaster. I’ve never heard of any kind of prosperous concern in Africa—unless it is mining gold or diamonds. Tell me he had a bit of either of those and I might be impressed.”
    “Actually,” she stated, pride getting the better of her, “the farm is quite a successful enterprise. We are one of the largest exporters of rubber in the world.”
    “That is outrageous,” Nester barked. “A prosperous concern that I have never heard a word about. What has happened to it now?”
    “It is being run by the Katsu, who have been there hundreds of years.”
    “A farm turned over to a bunch of savages? You can’t just turn over something like that to a pack of heathens!”
    “Nester, please.” Leticia reached over and rested her hand on his.
    Like a mother soothes a child.
    Finnea