She shakes her head. “Junie sort of called me out on something a while ago, and I realized I was putting resources toward something that isn’t mine to solve when I could be putting them toward something that will bring a lot more joy to someone very important to me.”
I study the envelope. The full basket of cards. My favorite desserts, all laid out on an old dinner cart that Tony used to use for rolling out Super Bowl snacks or his favorite whiskeys for tastings. “Maisey, I don’t think I—”
“It’s no strings,” she interrupts. “All of this is no strings. You’ve been here for me and for Junie since the moment we arrived. You werehere for Uncle Tony, and I have so many—but not nearly enough—emails from him talking about the things you two used to do together. Everyone in town adores you. Your students adore you. And I know you live for what you do for other people, but you deserve things too. So I made a call, and the ranch has liability insurance now. You can bring anyone out you want, for whatever you want. I’m covered. I can’t bring Uncle Tony back, but I can do this. He would’ve wanted me to. But more,I want to. For you. And this doesn’t mean that Iexpectyou to bring kids back onto the ranch. I just want you to know thatif you want to, if it makes you happy, the ranch is yours to use however you want.”
Words won’t come. They’re buried under a flood of emotions.
Gratitude.
Overwhelm.
Grief for myself for all the times I’ve felt not good enough.
A blossoming awareness that, just like Maisey is more than enough but doesn’t feel like she is, I, too, am good enough.
That I’m worthy of being first sometimes.
“You—” I start, but my throat is too clogged for words.
So instead, I do the only thing I know to do that’s better than words.
I set the basket aside, I haul her into my lap, and I kiss her until neither of us can breathe.
Chapter 32
Maisey
I miss Junie, but Thanksgiving week does not suck.
If Flint and I aren’t in bed together or off with the few other commitments we each have this week, we’re walking around the ranch together while I tell Flint more of what I’d like to do with the land, and he offers complimentary suggestions that only make it better, on top of showing me work that he’s had some of his high schoolers do out here over the years, and tells me more stories about Tony and Gingersnap and his students.
We watch movies. We cook together. I can chop vegetables and measure ingredients, even if I don’t have the patience or skills to put the rest of the package together as well as he does.
We even spend an entire night playing strip puzzle.
It’s like strip poker, except when one of us finds the exact piece we’re both looking for, we pick which piece of clothing the other has to take off.
The puzzle, erm, doesn’t get done.
I gradually relax about Junie being gone. She texts a couple of times a day, frequently with an eye roll emoji over a planned family activity, but overall, she seems good. She tells me that the Florida weather isawesome, and her grandparents are spoiling her, and her father wouldn’t let her wear a bikini and is pressuring her hard to practice driving.
Everything sounds normal.
And I miss her, but I also like this opportunity to get to know Flint better without pressure.
We avoid each other in town. I get knowing looks from my PTA friends that suggest I look like I’m getting laid, so I go out of my way to talk about how much I love the facials and spa supplies I picked up from the local apothecary, and I wear my muddy boots in town too.
Working hard and taking time to pamper myself while my daughter’s goneis the message I’m trying to portray.
Charlotte lets me get away with it during Thanksgiving dinner at her house.
Flint’s having dinner with Opal.
Whom I saw for a haircut a few days ago, and who didn’t say a word about what I’ve been up to with him.
The minute I pull into the driveway after Thanksgiving dinner, though, and spot Flint’s truck next to his house, I happily pull in beside him.
He meets me at the front door. “You alone?” I whisper.
