Page 1 of Harvest Season in Kentbury
ChapterOne
Raffa
I glanceout the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, watching the early morning sun paint the city skyline in gold.It’s been an hour since I arrived, and while my employees are just trickling in, I’m already on a phone call with Mr.Murphy—my worst client, and quite possibly the human embodiment of a migraine.
This guy is like getting a paper cut on a Monday morning—just unnecessary and painful.If firing clients wasn’t terrible for business, he’d have been out the door yesterday.But I’ve spent years building my legal practice on professionalism and patience.Well, mostly professionalism.
“If we don’t get this resolved quickly, it’s going to turn into a very messy trial,” I say, keeping my tone steady even though I can feel my blood pressure creeping up.“And trust me, Mr.Murphy, you do not want that.It’ll drag your reputation through the mud, not to mention your business.”And probably mine too, I don’t add because he certainly wouldn’t give two fucks about my firm or my employees.
He’s a selfish bastard, I know this because I have a father just like him.
“You’re my attorney, McFolley,” he snaps, like I’m some lackey who messed up his lunch order.“I pay you to do as I say, and it’s your fucking job to fix this.”
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth might crack.My fingers grip the phone tighter as I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.As satisfying as it’d be to tell him to fuck off, I’m not about to burn years of hard work over this clown.
“I’m doing everything I can, Mr.Murphy.But you need to stop getting yourself into these fucked-up situations.”Dealing with this client is threatening my patience.It is literally hanging by a thread, and I can feel it fraying fast.
There’s a dramatic sigh on the other end that makes me want to chuck my phone out the window.My gaze drifts back to the skyline, but the ache in my chest isn’t just frustration anymore.It’s a full-on, breath-stealing vice grip.I rub at it absentmindedly, hoping it’s nothing.Probably heartburn from something I ate yesterday.
“Well, I didn’t know you being my attorney gave you the right to boss me around,” Murphy bites out, like some petulant child who didn’t get his way.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Listen, if you want to keep being a fucking idiot, that’s your choice.But you’re gonna need another attorney for that shit.”The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, but honestly?I’m done playing nice.
I hang up, but the second I do, the pain in my chest ratchets up to a ten.It feels like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to my ribs.My left arm goes numb, and the phone slips out of my hand, clattering to the floor.I try to take a deep breath, but it’s like my lungs won’t expand.My vision blurs around the edges, black spots dancing in the corners.
“Janine.Janine,” I gasp, calling my secretary or at least I think I do.“Call nine-one-one.”
The pain surges, white-hot and relentless, shooting down my arm.I clutch the edge of the desk, but my legs give out, and I collapse to the floor with a thud.My office chair rolls away as I hit the carpet, the world spinning.Janine’s voice is a distant echo, muffled and far away, like she’s shouting at me from the other side of a tunnel.
Everything starts to fade, my vision narrowing into nothing but darkness.And then ...nothing.
Suddenly,I’m seven, sitting at the kitchen table with my siblings, waiting for the grand moment to show our dad our latest art projects from school.
My knee bounces under the table as I glance at the door for the hundredth time.I need mine to be his favorite—this time, at least.When we finally hear the sound of the front door, it’s a scramble.Every kid for themselves.
And let’s face it, he’s probably going to make a beeline for the baby.Everyone loves her, the cute little show-off.Don’t get me wrong, she’s adorable and all, but she’s so ...boring.
“Dad, look what I made in art today,” I blurt out, practically shoving my 3D model of an office building under his nose.“Just like yours, Dad.”
He smiles, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and I know—deep down, I know—he’s faking it.I can see the same lackluster enthusiasm he offers my siblings when they take their turns.
“Dad, why don’t you ever pay attention to what we do?”I blurt, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His scowl is immediate, shutting me down like I just committed a crime.
And then—beep, beep, beep.A sharp sound breaks through the fog, dragging me from the memory.My brows furrow as my eyes flutter open.Harsh fluorescent lights sting, and I squint against the brightness, trying to figure out where the hell I am.My body feels like it’s made of lead, every movement sluggish.My chest is tight, sore, and my throat feels like sandpaper.It’s then that I realize—I’m in a hospital bed.
I blink a few times, trying to clear my vision, and spot my younger sister, Louanne, sitting beside me in a chair, her face etched with worry.
“Lou?”I croak, my voice barely there.
“Thank God, you scared us half to death,” she says softly, leaning forward, her hand gently squeezing mine.“How are you feeling?”
“What happened?Where am I?”I glance down at the stiff, sterile sheets and the monitor next to me.“Okay, clearly I’m in a hospital ...but how did I get here?I was on the phone with a client, and the next thing I know—bam—I’m on the floor in pain.”
Lou shifts closer, her fingers tightening around mine, and I notice the concern in her eyes, making my stomach twist.Something bad happened.
