“No, I haven't really had to deal with any. I’ve heard John Beckman has been a little hard on the booze lately, so maybe not him.”
“Glad to see the gossip mill is still turning out riveting information,” she deadpans as she types a few things on her computer and I look around the room, not sure what I should do. “You can take a seat. This will take a bit.”
The authority in her tone has me sitting down and my arousal perking up. “Yes, ma’am.” Gone is the meek girl I said goodbye to, this version of Willow in front of me isn’t afraid to take charge and I can’t say I’m hating it. My fingers tap nervously against the arms of my chair as I wait for further instruction.
“Okay, so things I need you to have to me by the end of the week are an email containing the following: what your goals and inspiration are for these cabins, and if you have any pictures that would be helpful.” She types on her computer again before she looks back up at me. “Oh, and are you planning on hiring a property manager or will you be handling that?”
It is in this exact moment that I am in over my head. I hadn’t even thought about a property manager, but I guess you would need someone to keep on top of bookings and questions. My confidence wavers as I realize how naive I was. I don’t want to admit that I’m in over my head and haven’t considered all the details. I did a lot of research on the process of getting started, not so much on the day to day.
When my eyes rise to meet hers, I feel a rush of embarrassment. “I will talk to the team and get back to you.” I say it like this whole thinghas been a team effort, but really, I thought it was a good idea, ran it past them and started looking into it. I don’t regret the idea, I do think this is a good plan and would be really beneficial for the ranch and our family, I just wish I had the ability to form a complete thought before jumping ship.
“Okay, I am going to get a list of potential contractors and start writing up a business plan. I can make some spreadsheets to keep all the information, costs, and plans in one place. No one should have to deal with those damn filing cabinets ever again.”
Her phone starts ringing on the desk, and on it I can see a picture of her with a man. He looks like he’s wearing a dress shirt, he doesn't have a single hair out of place. Their smiles look practiced and almost robotic. I’ve seen a real smile from Willow, and that ain’t it.
“Oh, sorry. Do you mind if I take this?” She looks up, her cheeks stained a pretty shade of pink. Not sure why she feels embarrassed.
“Not at all. Do you want me to step out?” I go to stand, but she shakes her head.
“I’ll go. It should only be a minute.” She quickly walks away, shutting the door as I sit here and try to mind my own business. For a whopping three seconds. I almost gave in at two, but I know I’m stronger than that.
I slowly turn the knob on the door, cracking it a little to try and hear.
“Well now isn’t a good time, I’m meeting with my client.” She paces around the space outside the door. “Yeah, I know I said I wanted you to call but-”
I see every bit of light drain out of her and it’s right then that I decide I hate the man who put a ring on her finger. Not because he took heroff the market, but because she doesn’t shine when she’s with him. She deserves that.
Her brows knit in together, and she ends the call and starts walking back, shoulders slumped and gloomy.
I haul ass back to my chair before she can catch me and start thinking of ways I can turn this day around for her. If that fuckface won’t put a smile on her face, I will.
Chapter 6
Willow
The ache in my back causes me to finally give up on my dream of a full night’s sleep. I’ve been here a full week and it feels like I am drowning. Probably from the lack of sleep I've been getting. My air mattress is slowly leaking air, so I spent the night half-asleep in a blow-up taco of a bed. At least it’s Sunday and I get to visit my grandpa and get the hell off this ranch. A little space between Weston and me wouldn’t hurt either.
Every day that I wake up with a part of my body hurting due to my shitty sleeping situation, or the ice-cold shower I am forced to take every day, I am reminded of how good it was for me that he ended things, even if seeing him still feels like a dagger to the heart. It’s been so many years, but I still don’t feel like that piece of me has let go. Weston was my best friend which made losing him that much harder. Being here again makes everything feel fresher, and it feels like I’m reliving it all over again. So, a day at my grandpa’s is exactly what I need.
The drive to town takes a while. The truck doesn’t go over forty-five, so I don’t push my luck and choose to make the most out of it. With the windows down, I take the path I've driven a million times. The flowers on the side of the road are in full bloom, lots of woods’ roses and geraniums, adding a splash of color to the sagebrush and weeds growing in the ditch. The fresh air fills the cabin and I can feel mygrumpiness slowly fading. Not all the way, but enough that I can breathe again and have a good time with my grandpa.
When I pull up to his house, his grass is neatly maintained and the flowers next to the mailbox on the sidewalk add pops of yellow and white. It still looks exactly the same as it did when I was a kid. This place will always be my home. Some might have been embarrassed about being raised by their grandparents, but I was so lucky. My grandpa has the kindest heart, and if I get anything from him I hope it's that. Sometimes I feel like I've lost that piece of myself a bit over the years, but maybe spending more time with him will bring it back.
I walk up the front porch steps, and the top stair creaks just like it always does, which was really inconvenient when you were seventeen and trying to sneak back inside. Eventually, I started using my bedroom window, even if it meant potentially falling into the rosebushes we had growing in the backyard.
Out of habit, I pull the door open and walk right in like I still live here. My grandpa sits in his recliner on the chair in his living room.
“Gramps, I am so sorry, I should have knocked!”
“There’s a lot of people in this world required to knock before entering my home, my sweet grandbaby is not one of them. Thanks for coming by, I was hoping you would be making time for this, old fart.”
“You’re not that old.” Unfortunately, his barely there grey hair that he has combed over disagrees with me. As do the wrinkles on his face. He was always smiling and you can tell by the smile lines surrounding his mouth and eyes. The one thing that hasn’t changed about him is his love of glasses and suspenders that don’t match anything in his closet.
“I ain’t that young either, I’ve got more artificial joints and teeth than the bionic man.”
I can’t help but laugh at him, his old age hasn’t changed him a bit.
“What do you have going on today, Gramps? Got some time for breakfast and maybe a walk around the block?”
