She beams and gives us a ten-minute spiel about her three kids and five grandkids. My mind buzzes in and out of the conversation as new faces come and go. I love when it’s tourist season in town, and I’m granted some level of anonymity. I don’t see the guys from last night. That’s how it works. You either cross paths a million times or once.
“...they’re my dears.” The finality of Greta’s tone draws me back in. Dang, I missed all the updates. “What can I get you girls?” She winks. “The same?”
“With an extra pancake?” I ask, admiring how Greta can twist her black hair into a bun without a million flyaways.
“That kind of morning, eh?” Another wink.
“Same for me,” Jamison adds. Neither of us looked at a menu. It hasn’t changed for as long as I can remember.
When she leaves, I study the street on the other side of the window. The bar is around the corner on the edge of town. It’s why it can have such a big dirt lot. The tree-covered Beartooth Mountains line the horizon. I can’t see the rolling foothills from here, but Huckleberry Springs lies at the base. Daddy keeps the guest portion of his ranch facing the mountains, but the working ranch is along the sprawling valley, where there’s space for cattle to graze and lush grasses.
Main Street is lined with tourist shops, small retail stores, offices, and a grocery store. Outdoor recreation businesses surround the edge of town, closer to either the mountains or the river. Whether it’s hiking, skiing, fishing, or kayaking, there’s a place that offers it.
I have the urge to talk to Jamison about whether I should contact Sy’s Water Adventures before or after thewedding. Do I need to capitalize on my sudden free time, or should I prove myself first? But I don’t want to witness her hesitancy again. Her trepidation that I’m going to mess this up too.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Good. I can’t do much. I’m a breath away from being underactivity restriction,and that’ll drive me nuts. I’m already in a desk-heavy job.”
“Accountants aren’t known to go wild at work?”
“They get thrown in jail when they do.”
“And that’ll raise your blood pressure.”
She laughs. “Exactly. But since I’m so close to my due date, and I can work from home, she just wants me to take it easy—at home. No chores, keep my stress down and my feet up.” She takes a drink of water. “Did Avery get ahold of you?”
“Yes. I told her to go back to bed and give Thea a sloppy kiss from me.”
Her expression turns droll. “You know they both probably ran a marathon before dawn.”
“And then personally stocked a local food bank.” I cup my hands around my glass of ice water. “Sometimes, I wonder if Mom and Daddy pretend Thea’s the third daughter they wished they had.”
“Only because Thea can actually catch a fish.”
“Fishing’sboring.”
Her smile fades. “Life isn’t always exciting, and we have to deal with it anyway.”
Acid churns in my gut. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Oh God. I sounded just like her, didn’t I?” She rests a hand on her belly. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not just chasing a thrill. I told Iverson to say no at the meeting.”
I don’t want to think about this afternoon whenthere’s still a dull thud at my temples. “Durban might tell Stanford he made a good decision,” I say wryly, masking the burn behind my sternum.
“I don’t know what man January is a good decision for.” Jamison rolls her eyes. “I mean, seriously. That girl couldn’t form an independent thought if she was being dangled off a cliff.”
“It’s why she took what wasn’t hers.” I hate to think of the overlap. The comparisons when they have sex. Does he make more of an effort for her?
January might be vapid, but she exudes intelligence. I’d rather ask a statue for advice, but somehow she garners respect and I don’t. She’s also an unrestrained people pleaser and too conflict-avoidant for her own good. Until now. Because she and Stanford have decided to have their wedding at Hawthorne Guest Ranch and make me plan it.
CHAPTER THREE
Durban
Iverson’s driving and we’re on our way to Hawthorne Ranch for our mysterious meeting. It’s about Foster House and an event at the ranch. William Hawthorne has long mentioned combining our services with his, but until now he’s been content to order Foster House products and serve them in the bar in the lodge.
I haven’t told Iverson about the breakup yet. He’s been critical of Natalie since I met her, asking subtle, probing questions to point out that there’s too much distance between us, literally and figuratively. Neither of my brothers ever really connected with her, probably because I was the only thing they had in common. I don’t want to let them know they were right.
