Daddy Spencer nodded, but his eyes were distant. “I’m torn,” he admitted. “As you heard, I’ve got enough money for a lifetime. It was part of my inheritance from Grandpa. But I’ve got buyers lined up for the ranch. People who’d pay a fortune for the ranch. But Malcolm—he’s one of them. And I hate him. Always have. He hates horses, Jamie. Why would I sell to someone who doesn’t even respect what this place is?”
Jamie leaned in. “Then don’t. If you want to move to California, hire people to manage the ranch. You can afford it, and it would mean you don’t have to give it up.”
Daddy Spencer sighed, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the table. “I want to make a solid decision. Either I’m in, or I’m moving.”
Jamie hesitated. His heart wanted to say yes, to commit fully. But his head was still spinning. “Maybe you need more time,” he whispered.
Daddy Spencer didn’t push. He just nodded, finished his sundae, and paid the bill.
On the way back, they stopped at the Catholic rectory. Daddy Spencer handed the priest a large check for the children in need. Jamie stood beside him, watching the exchange. The priest thanked him with tears in his eyes.
Jamie didn’t know what to make of it. Daddy Spencer had so much money, more than Jamie could wrap his head around, but you’d never know it by the way he acted. No flash, no ego. Just quiet generosity and kindness.
As they walked back to the truck, Jamie glanced at Daddy Spencer. He still didn’t know what decision Daddy Spencer would make. But he knew one thing for sure; whatever happened, he didn’t want to be far from him.
Jamie padded into the living room with Daddy Spencer, the warmth from the fireplace already making his cheeks feel flushed. Nathan and Alfie were lounging near the tree, mugs of cocoa in hand, the scent of peppermint and pine hanging in the air. Jamie plopped down beside Alfie on the rug, where a pile of wooden logs waited to be turned into something ambitious.
“Let’s build a cabin,” Alfie said, already stacking pieces like he had a blueprint in his head.
Jamie grinned and joined in, carefully placing logs to form walls and a slanted roof. Both of them were sucking on candy canes—Jamie had already gone through two and was halfway through his third. He glanced at Alfie, who was working on his second like it was a race. Apparently, neither of them had much self-control when it came to peppermint.
Nathan leaned back in his chair, glancing over at Daddy Spencer. “You know, my oceanfront place at Beverly Hills Villa is still open. You could stay there if you ever decide to come back to California.”
Jamie’s ears perked up, but he kept his eyes on the cabin. The idea of Daddy Spencer leaving Montana made his stomach twist a little.
Daddy Spencer rubbed his jaw, thoughtful. “I’ll think about it.”
Before the silence could settle, Alfie piped up, still focused on the logs. “There’s a gigantic swimming pool too!”
Jamie laughed, nudging Alfie with his elbow. “You just want to cannonball off the diving board.”
Alfie smirked. “Obviously.”
Jamie kept building, but his mind wandered. Daddy Spencer hadn’t said yes. He hadn’t said no either. Jamie didn’t know what he was thinking, but he hoped—really hoped—that whatever decision he made, it would still include him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Spencer
The house felt quieter than usual. Nathan and Alfie had left for California earlier that morning, their absence leaving a strange emptiness in the air. Aunt Millie hadn’t quit, of course she hadn’t. She still came by every day, still cooked, still cleaned, and still acted like Jamie didn’t exist. Spencer had stopped hoping she’d warm up. Her silence was louder than any words. He planned on asking her to treat Jamie with respect or leave. He could hire Malcolm’s daughter who’d begged him for a job.
Jamie was busy most of the day when his possessions arrived from Tom. Spencer was pleasantly surprised Tom had kept his word to Jamie. And his truck had arrived two days ago, which gave him peace of mind. Things were settling down for them.
That night, after Aunt Millie finally went home, Spencer and Jamie wandered into the kitchen. The lights were dim, with the snowflakes tapping softly against the windows. Jamie leaned against the counter, unwrapping yet another candy cane, while Spencer moved toward the table.
That’s when he saw it—a folded note, addressed in sharp handwriting:Spencer Wallace.
His stomach tightened. He picked it up slowly, recognizing the signature style. Malcolm.
Spencer didn’t say anything at first. He just opened the letter, and a business card dropped out. It had a forest green background with matte white text, a sky-blue accent line, and an embossed leaf icon in the corner.
Smack in the middle of the card was this:Driven by purpose. Powered by equity. The name on the card was his father’s name: Walter Wallace, Founder of Eco Transit Mobile. Spencer’s hands trembled as he started reading the note that was with the card. The words hit harder than he expected.
Dear Spencer,
I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but there’s something you deserve to know. Something that’s been buried for too long.
Your father wasn’t a failure. He was a visionary. Ambitious, creative, and determined to build something meaningful. His business included a fleet of electric buses and vans designed to serve low-income areas with free or low-cost transportation.
