Texas Miracle. Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

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CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

       CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

       CHAPTER THIRTY

       CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

       CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

       CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

       CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      MCCARTHY TEMPLE SAT behind his mahogany desk and frowned over his glasses at the three stacks of unfinished paperwork. He straightened each one to make his desk tidier. It was fortunate his brothers got their tax documents to him early, as he requested, because their taxes were becoming more and more complicated to complete.

      This was a good thing, of course. Joiner, who was the next oldest after Mac, was carving out a successful business with his wife, Stella. They owned Star Stables, which provided hippotherapy to special needs clients. There they also bred Joiner’s polo stallion, Pistol, a horse that seemed to be made of money. The business owned by McCarthy’s baby brother, Hunt, and his wife was also booming. As the famous Cowboy Chef, Hunt attracted more visitors every year to Temple Territory, their five-star resort. Hunt’s twin, Cullen, had the easiest taxes of the group. He was a university professor, and didn’t make much money. However, since his marriage to a sweet lady with three girls, his taxes had become more unpredictable, just like his life.

      Mac pressed a button on his office phone.

      “Yes, sir?”

      “Ella, I’m going to work through lunch today. Will you hold all my calls?”

      “Of course, sir. Can I bring you some fresh coffee?”

      “That would be great.”

      A few minutes later, a birdlike woman with short white hair and kind blue eyes appeared at his desk with a steaming cup. She placed it on a coaster shaped like a star and emblazoned with the words Lone Star Accounting, McCarthy Temple, CPA.

      “Thank you, Ella.”

      She nodded. “You’re welcome, sir.” Ella smiled at Mac, revealing perfect white teeth. Her skin was the color of peaches and cream, and her starched dress was tailored and classy, just like her matching jewelry.

      His heart warmed at the sight of his longtime assistant, who had become something of a mother figure in the time they’d worked together. “You’re really leaving me, aren’t you?”

      “Yes, sir. I am, in two weeks.” She averted her eyes. “I have to.”

      “Ella, really, what are Alaskan cruises and grandchildren compared to working here?”

      Her eyes crinkled in the corners. “I will miss you, sir, but I am ready. I am getting too old for this.”

      Mac laughed. She was a mere seventy-three and sharper than a tack. “Ella, we both know you could run this place. And besides, you make a mean cup of coffee.”

      “It is simple to make coffee with your fancy machine. I’ll be glad to teach your new assistant if you ever hire one.” She tapped on her gold Timex watch. “Time is ticking, sir.”

      “I know, I know. I guess I am in denial.” Mac removed his glasses and set them on the desk, then reached for his coffee. “But you have to admit we haven’t had any good applicants.”

      “Don’t forget you have an interview at two today.”

      “Oh, I’m glad you reminded me. I’d forgotten.” Mac set down his coffee. “That’s only two hours.”

      Ella nodded and turned to leave. He heard her short heels clicking on the polished wood floor as she made her way back to the front desk. It was a comforting sound. Truth be told, Mac didn’t want to interview anyone else, didn’t want things to change. He was perfectly happy with Ella.

      * * *

      THE TIME FLEW by as it often did when Mac immersed himself in numbers. There was nothing more fun than working with them, making them add up, solving problems that were black-and-white and coming to clear solutions. Numbers were his sweet spot. He was deep in the middle of Star Stables’ health insurance billing when Ella appeared at the door with a file.

      “Just thought you might want to look over this. She should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

      “Okay, thanks.”

      Mac reluctantly set aside Joiner’s taxes and leaned back in his leather chair, propping his dark brown Ariats up on his desk. He opened the file Ella had given him to try to quickly familiarize himself with the applicant’s information. He wanted to ask good questions and get the information he needed. Ah, yes. Now he remembered whom he was interviewing and why. She was a hometown girl. And smart. Both of these things were valuable to Mac’s way of thinking.

      Jacqueline Aimes had been a scrawny kid who’d gone to school in Kilgore, graduating with Joiner’s high school class. Her résumé said she graduated from college with a degree in communications and a minor in interdisciplinary studies. Probably way overqualified for a front-desk job. But like so many СКАЧАТЬ