Chapter One
“You’re the closest thing I have to a brother, Harrison.” Kensington Donegal sipped lemon water and eyed her older cousin sitting across the white tablecloth. “I’m asking you to help me save Grandpa’s company.”
Harrison swiped his lips with the linen napkin and returned it to his lap in a clump. He may have dressed in an expensive suit, but that didn’t take the farm boy out of his manners. “I don’t know what you expect me to do, Kenz. I can’t change his will without his permission.”
Kensington set her cup back on the table, wiping a bead of perspiration off the glass with her thumb. “Tell me what I haven’t read in Dad’s will. There has to be some way I can ensure my position as CEO once he passes.”
Harrison’s naturally dark, olive-toned skin paled. Not everyone in the family was as used to talking about Dad’s impending expiration date as his three daughters. Around the Donegal house, death was talked about as casually as breakfast bagels. “How is Uncle Albert?”
Kenzi considered her audience before answering. “The doctors give him two weeks.” She glanced at the uneaten chicken marsala in front of her before leaning back and staring straight into Harrison’s concerned gaze. “He’s oddly at peace—so much so that it freaks us all out.”
Harrison chuckled. “You girls have him wrapped around your little fingers.”
Kensington maintained eye contact, doing her best not to let the years of jealousy over the attention her baby sisters sucked out of their father show in her face. “Don’t lump me in with the blonde brats.”
Harrison laughed at the mention of his long-standing nickname for her baby sisters, just like she’d hoped he would. The younger girls—full-grown women now—took after their mother with shiny golden locks, sweetheart faces, and pink lips. On the flip side, Kensington took after their father with light brown hair, which she had lightened to a nice honey shade on the shoulder-length ends. They were close in temperament, too: driven, traditional, loyal. Maybe that was why Dad was so much harder on her than he was on the other two—he saw bits of himself in her hair, her classic blue eyes, and her tall forehead. No one likes to be reminded of who they are when they aren’t happy with themselves.
She smothered her smile and leaned forward in the cushioned seat. “Seriously, Harrison, they’re already talking about selling off the dairies, shutting down the retail sights, and renting the production facility to our competitors. I’m getting ulcers over the rumors, and I know they can’t possibly be as bad as what Raquel truly has planned.” Not to mention the freedom that kind of cash would give her baby sister, Lunette. Lunette may be a single-mother, but she behaves like a spoiled teenager. Only the limits placed on their trust funds kept her physically close to home.
“Would the executive committee let them?”
“They wouldn’t have a choice. It’s a privately owned company. If either of them becomes CEO, everything Grandpa Charlie built will dissolve into thin air.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “And the three of you will be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.”
She huffed. Like they needed the money. Her personal net worth was well over a billion dollars. “Weallbenefitted from Great-grandpa’s trust.” Harrison liked people to believe his law degree was the reason he could afford Christian Louboutin shoes, but his family knew differently. “At leastyouwent out and made something useful of yourself.” Her sisters weren’t dumb—they were shortsighted in their goals. Hazel’s Dairy Delights was a family tradition, and they wanted to carve it up like a birthday cake, giving themselves the corner piece with all the frosting.
Harrison shoved aside his empty plate and leaned his arms on the table. He may not be the athlete he was in college, but he still ate like one. Not that it showed. At six foot two, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. “I reread Albert’s will last night in preparation for this meeting.”
Kensington fisted her hands under the table; her nails biting into her palms kept her from opting out of this conversation. A trick she’d learned in therapy when Dad insisted they talk about what his last days would look like, what he would look like as the cancer ate away at his body. She would rather have drunk long-expired milk than listen to the doctor’s descriptions of skin color, contorted muscles, and the tainted smell of dying.
“When your dad passes away, the three of you will vote on who becomes CEO.”
“Right, and since the two of them are thick as thieves, they’ll both vote for Raquel.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, she’s the instigator.”
His lips quirked into a grin that was there and gone in a flash. “If that happens, then you’re outvoted and out of luck.”
“Right.” She nodded along. She’d read the will too. “I’m hoping there’s a clause I missed that can change that rule.”
“There’s no changing the rule. It’s concrete.”
“That’s just great.” She threw her hands in the air. She wanted nothing more in the world than to dedicate her life to the ice cream goodness Hazel’s was known and loved for. There were so many beautiful flavors and flavor nuances yet to be discovered. Chocolate alone could keep her busy for fifteen years. And then there were the add-ins: nuts … marshmallows … fruit … crackers … brownies. The possibilities were endless.
“Are you seeing anyone right now?” Harrison broke through her wandering thoughts.
“What?” She brought her eyes into focus, certain she’d heard him wrong.
“Are you dating someone?”
She snorted in an unladylike fashion, showing that she too had some farm girl packed into her business skirt. “Like I have time to date.”
He lifted one eyebrow, creating an air of mystery. “What you need right now is a husband.”
Her arms fell limp at her sides. “I’m sorry, are youevolved? I donotneed a husband to make my troubles go away. Geez, Harrison.” She snapped her napkin off her lap and folded it once, twice, and then a third time, making the fabric clap with each fold. “I thought Aunt Pamela taught you better than that.”
