He slams the door shut behind him and peels out of the driveway, a cloud of dust following him. We all watch as he disappears into the distance, tension sitting heavily in the air.
Jenny turns to look at me when his car is finally out of sight, and we both burst into laughter when we make eye contact. Christ, what was Ithinking?
“Well,” I say, as I put my hands on my hips. I turn to meet Everett’s eyes. “I think it’s safe to say you two need me more than you even realized.”
Jenny and Everett glance at one another, and both of them snort as they try to hold back their laughter.
“How about we save this ranch?” I ask.
Everett nods at me, and I see real hope in his eyes for the first time since I met him.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
EVERETT
Yesterday feels a bit like a dream.
Carter Mallory has been a sleazy, well-dressed thorn in my side for long enough that I’d given up on making him eat his words. Watching him splutter insults through hose water and seethe at Mary was something straight out of a fantasy. I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I couldn’t stop laughing about it.
As if the hilarity of the situation wasn’t enough, Mary also looked sofurious.
The thought of her protecting the ranch like that makes me feel warm all the way down to my toes. Maybe she really does want to take this thing between us seriously, if she’s willing to step up to bat and put herself in the middle of it all.
Icoulduse a shoulder to lean on if we’re going to try to turn all this around. Hell, I could use more than one. If I can convince Mary to stay and manage to scrounge up something resembling a good relationship with my daughter, I’m willing to do damn near anything. Jenny is probably going to take more effort than Mary, considering we’ve got almost a decade of arguments to work past.
I guess the best thing to do is just try. It doesn’t matter where I start, as long as I start somewhere.
With that decision made, I pull down two plates and two cups from the cabinet. Mary sleeps in later than Jenny or I do, so we’ll have some time to chat. Just the two of us, just like old times.
I rustle through the pantry to gather ingredients, memories of birthdays and graduation celebrations long past swimming in my head. French toast was always Jenny’s favorite, and it was one of the few recipes Laura ever bothered to write down. I’m not a disaster in the kitchen. I picked up enough tips during the cancer years, but I’ve also made some frankly awful meals when I’m on my own, so it’s better to stick with something that has guidance.
Besides,it’s comforting to pull out the well-worn scrap of paper from the drawer and know that this recipe is truly ours. I run my fingers over Laura’s sloping handwriting, smiling softly to myself.
After I’ve gotten deep into the French toast process, Jenny steps into the kitchen. She peeks over just as I’m piling an extra piece onto her plate. We both pause for a moment to stare at each other, and she looks taken aback, but doesn’t say anything.
It’s probably as positive a reaction as I can hope for, so I turn to dust powdered sugar over both of our plates. She always likes more than Laura ever put on her plate, and I positively douse her stack with sugar before turning toward the table. Jenny has already taken her usual seat, staring down at her coffee like she’s not sure how to react.
“I only have blueberries,” I say, “but I know you don’t like them, so I figured I’d keep things plain.”
She looks startled when I slide her plate over to her along with a fork, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the offer of breakfast or because I remembered she hates blueberries.
Only took me her whole life to get that through my skull.
“Thanks,” she says hesitantly. “Syrup?”
I nudge the bottle closer to her as I take my own seat across the table. She pours a ridiculous amount of syrup over her stack before passing the bottle back to me. It’s hard to keep a smile off my face at the thought of us sharing breakfast. Sure, the air is thick with tension, but this is the first time in years that we’ve actually sat down for a meal together. I suddenly wish Wayne was here, too, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see my son at this table again.
“What we talked about the other day…” I say, keeping my eyes on my own plate. “I was serious. I want to fix things around here. I want to fix things between us.”
She watches me for a long moment, almost like she’s waiting for me to say I’m joking. Her eyes are untrusting, but hopeful, and I hope she can see the tentative hope on my own face. I’ve never been great with words, but I need to be serious right now.
I need her to understand that I’m serious.
“How do you plan to do that?” she asks.
I expect the words to be sarcastic, but she sounds honestly curious.
“I… I don’t know,” I say honestly. “It’s not something I can figure out on my own. I don’t expect you to take charge, but I don’t know how to do this.”
