“Good, she told you.” A nervous laugh leaves her. “It’s certainly unprecedented, but William has his reasons.”
His reasons usually have dollar signs, and I’ve neverbeen more upset with the man. Why would he make his daughter do this? As for Campbell, she’s an adult. Why would she go along with it?
My comments about her jobless state from last night drift through my mind. Does she feel like she doesn’t have a choice? Moreover, can she plan an event without being late or missing one of the hundred small details that go into it?
Christine leads us through the sitting area where social hour often takes place, past the entrance to the small bar, and to a concealed door behind a bookshelf. The meeting room.
Inside, William’s waiting at the head of the table. His bushy white mustache is the first thing anyone notices about him. He’s usually boisterous, greeting guests and making them laugh and smile. Today, he’s grim. His mustache practically droops.
He glances from me to Iverson. “I take it you know what we’re meeting about?”
“I do.” Iverson doesn’t take a seat, and neither do I.
“You can’t let this happen,” I add.
“I’d like to wait for Campbell to get here before you guys level me with your righteous opinions.” He checks his watch and huffs out a breath.
We’re early, but Campbell isn’t.
Christine sits, waving for us to take a chair. I finally pull a seat out, and she gives me a grateful smile. I’m not here to create drama, and Christine was always nice to the ranch employees. She accepted Iverson into the family with no hesitation. She even hugs him like our mom never did. So, yeah. I can sit my ass down when she asks me to.
Iverson relents too. We’re not turning our back onour convictions. But we are willing to hear the rest of the story.
“How’s the herd?” William asks us, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. Campbell continues to be a no-show as we chat about calving season. Haven’s taking over for us, watching for any new calves or mamas having birthing trouble.
Lane and Cruz Foster are working the tours and tasting room at the distillery. They’re the other partial owners. Myles Foster controls the most shares. He’s the founder and CEO, but his brothers are taking more responsibility with the whole company and not just the Huckleberry Springs’ site.
Five minutes after the scheduled time tick by, we’re still chatting, but Christine is discreetly tapping into her phone.
Another five minutes later, Campbell breezes into the room on a cloud of huckleberry blossoms and sunshine. Her chestnut hair is gathered in a clip at the back of her head, but lighter strands fan out around her face. Her cheeks have a fresh blush, but the tip of her nose isn’t red.
The dress from last night is gone. She’s in jeans—these most definitely have dust on them—and a hoodie with the Hawthorne brand across the front, anHover a squiggle. William claims that’s to represent the Stillwater River, but the inside joke is that it’s really a dollar sign.
“Sorry,” she says, out of breath. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
William pointedly looks at his watch again.
She sits across from us and avoids my gaze, but she doesn’t offer any excuses. I have to respect that. Unlessshe was rescuing puppies or solving the answer to world peace, it’d sound irresponsible.
“I’ll just come right out with it,” William says. “Stanford and January want their wedding at the ranch, and since Campbell’s our new event planner, she’ll be planning the wedding.”
Campbell’s gaze is on the wood grains swirling through the tabletop.
When she doesn’t say anything, William continues. “I know everyone thinks we shouldn’t allow it.”
“No shit.” I clamp my teeth together. I didn’t mean to have an outburst like that, but what dad would put his daughter through planning her ex’s wedding to the cousin he cheated on her with?
William shoots me a scowl. “I’m not happy with my brother for pushing it either. Stanford, the dumbass, should have more sense, and well, we all know January doesn’t.”
Campbell puffs out a small laugh, her attention remaining on the wall.
“I think it’s important in this case to be the bigger person.” His shoulders are stiff as he continues. “To be infallible when it comes to how we conduct ourselves.”
I shift in my seat, but Campbell’s gaze flicks up and she grimaces, as if my movement projects all my judgment onto the tabletop. Rich girl gets a job from her daddy when she can’t hold her own.
She’s wrong.
Well, that’sabsolutelywhat happened in her case. But I don’t judge her for it. I didn’t grow up rich, but I have the job and my land because of what my dad left behind for me and my brothers. For a long time, the only family assets we had were detriments. Her dad loves her, and hewants to help. She accepted that help. In that, we’re no different. It’s how we use advantages that makes the difference, and she’s been thrown into the fire.
