I held out my arms and hugged my mother, then kissed her on the cheek and took a step back. She engulfed Vivianne in a tight hug, as well.
“You didn’t have to wait for us to eat. I pulled off and showed Viv my favorite spot on the ranch. If I’d known you were putting off dinner, I would have come straight home.”
My mother waved off my concern with a flick of her wrist before wrapping Vivianne’s arm in hers and leading her into the house.
“Ladd, get your luggage,” she called over her shoulder.
I stood there, mouth hanging open as I watched Mom steal my girlfriend and sweep her into the house.
My father stepped onto the porch, laughing at my expression. “Let’s get the luggage before my nuts freeze off!” he said. Then it wasmyturn to laugh.
Once the luggage was put in the appropriate rooms, mine and the guest room, I made my way to the kitchen. I could hear laughter floating up the steps and couldn’t help but smile. I heard my grandmother, Lilith, my mother, and what sounded like David. He’d left right at the beginning of our holiday break to come home and help our father around the ranch. I’d waited a few days, so I could travel with Vivianne, who still had a couple shifts at the pizza place and didn’t want to leave them in a jam.
The house that I called home my entire life had been remodeled a few times since my great-grandfather had built it. Mostly to modernize it. The layout hadn’t been touched; well, except for the sunroom that my mother and father had added. There was something nice about knowing previous generations had grown up in this very house. That tradition would stop with me and my brothers. I highly doubted any of us would want to move in with our parents once we were married. I knew I didn’t want that.
The hunter’s cabin had been well cared for under my father’s hand, and there really wasn’t a whole lot I needed to do to finish fixing it up. Last summer when I was home for a few weeks, David and I worked on updating the bathroom as well as the fixtures. This next summer I’d be putting in appliances. Knowing that Vivianne liked it just from the outside view was a relief. I planned on asking her to marry me and we’d be starting our life together in that cabin. And if my plans went as I hoped, I’d need all the money I could spare in the immediate future for the store, so my dream home on the ranch would have to wait a few years.
When I walked into the large kitchen, I grinned. Sitting at the oversized table in the breakfast area was Vivianne, mymother, grandmother, and our neighbor, Liz Tucker, who also happened to be my mother’s best friend.
All of them were laughing as David stood there, a perplexed expression on his face.
“What’s going on?” I asked, walking over to stand next to him.
“I have no idea. I said one thing and they all started laughing.”
I looked from him to the women, who were still laughing, then back to him. “What did you say?”
He shrugged. “I don’t even remember, if I’m being honest.”
Dad walked by and hit David on the back. “Don’t worry, son. This won’t be the last time a woman makes you forget what you were saying.”
I laughed and reached for a carrot from the veggie tray my mother had made up. The entire table was covered with plates containing various foods. Pasta salad, veggies, fruit, dips, chips, you name it, and it was there.
“Mom, did you cook for an army?” I asked with a laugh.
She glanced at the table. “These are just the pre-dinner snacks. I’ve got a meatloaf in the oven.”
“I haven’t had meatloaf in so long,” Vivianne said.
“You’re in for a real treat then,” David said. “Our mom makes the best meatloaf in the entire state of Colorado.”
My mother’s brows lifted as Liz nodded. “He’s not kidding. It really is the best I’ve ever had.”
Mom waved everyone off. “Don’t be silly. The potatoes are done. Gus, would you do the honors?”
“Sure thing,” he said before he kissed her cheek and moved to the kitchen to make the mashed potatoes.
I sat down next to Vivianne. “My father is the head mashed potatoes guy.”
David nodded.
“Why is that?” Vivianne asked.
I shrugged. “WhyisDad always the one who makes the mashed potatoes, Mom?”
She’d left the table and was now stirring what I guessed was gravy. “He’s just always made them, not sure why.”
“I know why,” my father replied. “The first timeyouever made them, you put so much milk into the pot that it was like potato soup.”
