Her ex-husband raked his hand through the top of his disheveled brown hair. “Uh, Charlie Grace?”
She sighed. “Now what?”
“Could I borrow your vehicle? I mean…I don’t have wheels right now.”
Before Charlie Grace could respond, her dad reached into his back pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them into Gibbs’ hands. “Take the ranch truck.”
“Thanks, Clancy.” Gibbs put his hand on Jewel’s shoulder and guided her to the door. “Be back as soon as I can.” He turned to Charlie Grace. “Uh, would you mind saving me some of Aunt Mo’s breakfast? I’m starved.”
Charlie Grace grimaced. “Just go!”
As soon as the door closed, Charlie Grace moved for the counter, picked up the wet dishrag, and wiped off the table.
Her father lifted his coffee cup, allowing her to swipe underneath it. “Charlotte Grace, what’s eating you?”
“We’re not having this conversation, Dad. I already said my piece.”
“Gibbs is no longer your husband, and you’re still cawing at him like a disgruntled wife.”
She tossed the wet rag into the sink. “I’m not cawing at him. I’m simply holding him accountable.”
“He’s not a bad man, Charlie Grace.”
“No, Gibbs is not a bad man. He’s a man who never grew up, a man who could never keep his pants on, and a guy who let his wife shoulder all the responsibility while he played.”
She immediately chastised herself. Why was she even engaging? They’d had this conversation a million times. Her father would never see things her way.
He was right about one thing. Throwing a fit about her life was fruitless. If things were to change, she was going to be the one to make things different. Maybe Nick was right…she had some strings to cut.
“Hey, do you remember that camera Mom bought me when I was a kid?”
“Vaguely,” came his reply as he wheeled himself over to the coffee pot to top off his cup.
“Well, I’m going to find it.”
“Yeah?”
Charlie Grace lifted her chin. “Yes. I’m going to find that Canon, and I plan to start taking pictures again.”
Her dad grunted. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so. This morning, someone unknowingly urged me to start looking at life through a new lens.” She moved for the back door. “And, from here forward…I plan to do just that.”
17
Reva hung her aqua sweater on the peg in her office, straightened the front of her sleeveless dress, and made her way to the windows overlooking Main Street. She waved at a passerby before she took a seat behind a worn, wooden desk—a desk that had seen over fifteen mayors.
Serving as mayor of Thunder Mountain had not been something she’d aspired to. Her law practice, located two doors down the street, was more than enough to keep her busy.
Reva had built an eclectic practice, with clients that included ranchers dealing with federal grazing issues, couples seeking a divorce, small mom-and-pop businesses that needed purchase and sale agreements, or loan agreements like the one she’d recently negotiated for Charlie Grace.
She’d also been the attorney of record for the city when Hank Peters suffered his fatal heart attack, right here at this desk. She stepped up and covered his duties and was surprised at the overwhelming support to make the effort official. She was the sole, and successful nominee, in a special election, vowing to serve only one term. That was three terms ago.
Service was her personal hallmark, and she loved serving the residents of Thunder Mountain. Yet, there were a few downsides.
One of them rapped at her open door.
“Yoo-hoo. Do you have a minute? I have something very important I need to discuss with you.”
