I sit at a small table near an outlet and set up my makeshift desk with my laptop and mousepad. Finally, I bring up my dad’s number and hit the call button.
“Rick Dawson here.” My dad’s voice sounds just like it always does, a hurried rumble, like he’s too busy to be answering but does, anyway.
“Hey, Dad. I just talked to Mom. My messages must not have gone through. I haven’t had a chance to come into town until today.”
Dad grumbles noncommittally, the sound of his keyboard clicking echoing over the line. “He’s keeping you pretty busy, then?”
“Yeah, he is. It’s fall on the ranch. You remember how it is.”
“Sure do. Too much for him to handle on his own, that’s for sure. How’s he looking?” Concern edges into his tone.
“Older than I remember,” I answer honestly. Mrs. Mackey brings me my coffee along with sugar and creamer that she sets in front of me on the table with an easy smile.
Dad chuckles over the line. “You see him at Christmas every year.”
It’s true, but he’s aged a lot since last Christmas. The heart attack took a lot out of him.
“I know. I guess I just forgot how much there is to do out here that requires physical labor.”
“That’s why you’re out there to talk him into selling it. He’s too old to be doing all that. Especially after the heart attack.”
“Right.”
An uncomfortable silence stretches over the line as I consider how to break the news to Dad that I’m staying here for seven more weeks.
“So? Have you talked to him about it yet?” Dad asks, impatient for answers.
I swallow down the nerves balling in my stomach. “I did. He made me a deal.”
“Care to expand on that?” Dad presses.
My shoulders slump. “He said if I stay and help out on the ranch until Thanksgiving, he’ll sell.”
“Hmph.” Dad’s quiet a moment before he lets out his breath on a loud exhale. “Somehow, that’s a better outcome than I might have expected. I’ve got it all taken care of here, so don’t worry about anything on this end.”
Mrs. Mackey slides the steaming plate of biscuits and gravy to me, and I smile in thanks.
“Mom said you were having a hard time running things by yourself.”
“You know how your mother is, always making mountains out of molehills. There was a minor hiccup at the office, but I had Todd handle it. I’d rather have you concentrating on Pops and the ranch.”
“Oh. Good.” I don’t know exactly how I should feel about not being needed back at work immediately, but the first thing Idofeel is relief, which is strange considering only a few days ago I wanted to get out of here as fast as humanly possible.
“I worry about him out there all alone since Grams died,” Dad continues.
“He has Tripp out here helping and his neighbor, Sawyer, brings him home-cooked meals a few times a week and helps when she can.”
“Oh, right, Sawyer. We met her when we were there visiting right after his heart attack. She’s got some spunk.”
I scoff. “You could say that.”
“Be nice to her, Wes. She takes care of Pops when we aren’t around. You make sure to thank her for us. She doesn’t have to help him out the way she does. He’s not her kin, but she does it out of the kindness of her heart.”
I wince, thinking of the less than warm welcome she’s given me thanks to the way I’ve acted around her. Like a spoiled little boy who has been made to eat his vegetables before he gets a slice of pie. “I will.”
“Do whatever you need to do out there. Todd and I will take care of everything here.”
“Alright,” I say. My dad hangs up the phone, and I’m left wondering what to do with my day since Pops is out with friends and apparently, I don’t have as much work to catch up on as I thought since Dad is confident in Todd taking over my position while I'm gone.
