The Heart of a Man. Deb Kastner

bro, I just don’t have time today. I’m behind on my schedule already just by being here. Can we just get this painful business settled as quickly as possible so I can return to work?”

      This business. Was that all it was to Addison? Another piece of business to settle and then move on? It was only Dustin’s life they were talking about.

      And so much more. If only Addison knew. But Dustin wasn’t ready to trust his brother with more information than he’d already given.

      Dustin felt like no more than a thorn in Addison’s side at times, a trial to be borne through and just as quickly forgotten.

      Addison was staring at him. “I’m sorry to say this, little brother, but you need a makeover,” he said soberly, though his eyes were gleaming with amusement at the prospect.

      Dustin grinned and crossed his arms over his chest in an instinctively protective gesture. “Oh, like a facial and a mud bath, right? You want me to get a manicure and a massage?”

      Addison cleared his throat and looked out the nearest window, gazing for some time before speaking. “This is a very serious matter. You joke about everything,” he said softly.

      Dustin shrugged. “Of course. In my book, it’s better to go through life with a smile than to be grouchy all the time.”

      “Grouchy? Is that how you see me?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

      Dustin shook his head. “I was speaking in relative terms.”

      “Yes, well, I’m not sure I believe you, but let us get back to the subject at hand. As it happens, per the will, I’ve hired a girl—”

      “No way.” Dustin cut him off with his voice, and concurrently made a severe chopping gesture with the flat of his hand. “My personal life is mine. I won’t be set up, even by you.”

      “I’m not talking about your personal life, Dustin,” Addison said, sounding as if he were straining to be patient, and yet with the hint of laughter to his voice. “I’m talking about your image. Who you know, where you go and especially how you dress. A change you and I both know would make our father happy.”

      Dustin looked down at his old tennis shoes, faded blue jeans and worn gray T-shirt. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

      “That’s exactly the point, my man. This woman I hired, Isobel Buckley, knows what’s in fashion and helps people change their image. She does it for a living, and I’m sure she could advise you better than I. Honestly, baby brother, you don’t have a clue. Admit it. You’re a world-class chump.”

      Dustin felt pressure building up in his chest. Addison was forcing his hand, and they both knew it.

      And they both knew he would cave, eventually, before it was all said and done.

      He had to cave. For the sake of the money. There was no other way.

      For a moment, he considered tackling his older brother and wrestling him to the ground, as they had often done as youngsters. It would serve his big brother right to give him the good pounding he had threatened and that he was now certain Addison deserved.

      With deep restraint he denied the urge, knowing it would do nothing more than prove Addison’s point. Bad clothes and bad manners.

      A chump.

      “Frankly—” Addison continued in his best, solid business voice “—and you know I’m right in saying this, Father was concerned about the way you would spend your inheritance.”

      Addison paused, leaning one hand against a nearby table and pulling his brown tweed jacket back to put his hand in his slacks pocket.

      To Dustin, it was like seeing his father all over again.

      “You have no vision, Dustin. You own a small flower shop, you bang like an Aborigine on this drum of yours in the name of fun, and that’s all you have to show for yourself. For your time. For your life.”

      “Is that you or Dad talking?” Dustin goaded through clenched teeth.

      It wasn’t a fair question, and Dustin immediately regretted his hasty query. It was clearly his father’s intention to make Dustin into a different man. Addison was merely the messenger.

      The urge to pounce on his burly brother and mess up his fancy suit was growing by the moment, but he knew better than to shoot the messenger, no matter how tempting it might be. It wouldn’t solve anything in the long run, and he needed access to that trust fund.

      “It’s my life,” he complained, sounding as surly as a little boy. “What’s wrong with my flower store?”

      “Nothing is wrong with your little shop. But have you ever thought about opening up a chain of stores? What about making a real name for yourself in the Denver social scene? Why not cater to a higher-level clientele, boost your own income?

      “You spend as much time gallivanting around town, and who knows what else, as you do putting your strength and effort into your business.” Addison took an extended breath. “What you need is to go to the right parties and rub elbows with the right people. Build up relationships that mean something. Really make something important of yourself.”

      Addison rubbed his palms together like sandpaper on wood. “I’ll help you. I have the connections, Dustin. But you can’t meet the right kind of people in jeans and a T-shirt.”

      Dustin shook his head and grunted in disdain. “Relationships that mean something? Mean what, exactly? More money? More prestige? A nicer car? I’m never going to be like you, Addison. That’s not what I want out of life.”

      “Perhaps not,” Addison agreed with a curt nod. “You and I have traveled different roads. Nevertheless, I do think Ms. Buckley can help you with this trust-fund issue, and I insist you meet with her.”

      Dustin balked inside, but he didn’t let it show. He didn’t like being ordered around, especially by members of his family. “How long?”

      “Six weeks. That shouldn’t be too much of a strain, even for you.” Addison began to pace, a sure sign he was losing his patience. Dustin knew his brother didn’t like this any better than he did.

      And why should he? Dustin knew Addison wasn’t a bully at heart, childhood pranks notwithstanding. He was as pinched by their father’s will as anyone.

      Better to wrap things up and let Addison get on his way. Back to work in his posh office, where he was more in his element.

      “At the end of the six weeks, then, I get my inheritance money?”

      Addison met his gaze straight on, staring as if trying to read his soul. Dustin let him look, knowing his own expression was unreadable. It was something he’d practiced.

      “You know I’m taking a calculated risk here.” Addison cleared his throat and continued pacing back and forth in front of Dustin, his arms clasped behind his back. “And I expect a full return on my investment.”

      “Meaning?”

      “I want you to cooperate with Ms. Buckley fully. If she gives me a bad report, I will put your trust fund on hold and you won’t be able to touch it.”

      Dustin opened his mouth to protest against these rules, but Addison held one hand up, palm out. He clearly didn’t want to be interrupted.

      “If, however, you make a genuine effort toward your reform, the money is yours, with no limitations from me or anyone. I know that’s what you want. You just have to make an effort.”

      He gave Dustin a genuine smile, but Dustin just winced at his brother’s stilted effort.

      “This will work, Dustin, if you just give it half a chance.”

      Dustin clenched his jaw tightly, still hardly believing his brother had set up such a scheme. Addison wasn’t married—he was as careful in dating as Dustin himself was. And for good reason.

      Every