“Why? What interest will she have in all of this?” Damon’s lips curl, and he gives Lindsay the once-over as if she doesn’t rank.
“She can’t stay,” Dad says. “Some of what I’m going to say will give her an unfair advantage.”
“Whatever could that be?” Nash asks. “Is it something to do with Grandpa’s will? You honestly think either one of us is interested in whatever he has?”
Dad slams his hand on the oak desk. “Show some respect or get out.”
Nash sets the iced drink on the table and pushes away from the rocking chair. He takes Lindsay’s hand and says, “Let’s go. Whatever you guys decide about Grandpa’s care, just send me the bill. As for the will and his control games, I don’t care.”
“Nash. You should stay. I’ll go,” Lindsay says in a mother’s voice. At that moment, she looks every bit of her thirty-plus years, and I glance into the mirror overlooking the leather couch and see my own mid-thirties reflection staring back. Or maybe I look closer to forty with all the hard living I did.
Nash doesn’t listen, and he drags Lindsay out.
“What’s their story?” I ask, eyeing the two remaining Powers men in the room.
“He just said he doesn’t care what we do with grandfather,” Damon says. “He’s not going to be inconvenienced.”
“Are we looking at either a nursing home or home hospice care?” I turn toward my father. “I’ll help out whichever way we decide.”
“If you’d stuck around, you’d know your grandfather is a proud man,” Dad says.
“I remember him that way. Independent.” I huff and cross my arms, wishing I had kept in touch. The problem is, I can’t stand looking at my father for a single minute more—knowing what he thinks about me. “I’ll agree to whatever you two decide.”
“We want him to stay here at the ranch,” Dad says. “Jolene and the girls are okay with it.”
Technically, the ranch belongs to the Brant girls, whose father left it to them under the care of Jolene. My father is always aware that he and Damon are caretakers.
“Then what’s the problem?” I glance between Dad and Damon. “We can split the cost of the home health aide and any supplies he needs.”
“Problem is he doesn’t want to be a burden,” Dad says. “He wants us to take him to Oregon where he can get assisted suicide.”
“Assisted suicide? No way!” I sink onto the couch and palm my face. “We can’t let him.”
“What’s he going to do about it anyway?” Damon smirks. “It’s not like he can drive himself anywhere. We can keep him here, drugged up and happy.”
“You think he’ll be happy when he doesn’t get his way?” Dad’s voice is stormy and gruff. “Come on. You know him. He’ll make life miserable for all of us. Drive Jolene and the girls crazy until we give in.”
“Maybe there’s a way we can make him happy to be alive. Bring him joy despite his prognosis.” I wipe my fingers through my hair. “Not that he’s so happy to see me or anything.”
“Oh, you were always his favorite.” Damon slaps the cowboy hat on my head. “That’s why Dad had Jolene call you.”
I narrow my eyes at my father, who I know hates me. “It must kill you to tolerate me under your roof.”
“Don’t start.” My father’s voice is a low growl like a pit bull ready to attack. “I disagree with everything you did after your mother passed.”
“You said you despised me,” I shoot back, rising to my feet. “You said I caused her miscarriage.”
“You did. You don’t know how much worry you added to her plate. I was glad to see you go.” He barrels from behind the desk.
“Guys, guys.” Damon gets between us and stretches out his hands as if he needs to keep us apart. He doesn’t, since the war I have with my father is so cold it’s below zero. “The important thing is what are we going to do to give Grandpa a will to live?”
“That’s where the will comes in,” Dad says. “Nash might not care about Grandpa’s worldly possessions, but that cabin he has in Sonoma county is worth a pretty penny, and he still has the vineyard he bought with the proceeds of the pet store.”
“Sonoma county is expensive. Where’s the vineyard?” I ask.
Dad’s eye twitches, and a sneer builds on his face. “I see Grandpa’s stuff has you interested.”
“And you’re not?” I uncross my arms and face him squarely. I don’t want to insult him, but my father was a traveling salesman, and the biggest fish he caught was Jolene Brant whose husband inherited half of Brant Falls, Montana.
