I dare look at Dad out of the corner of my eye.
“I understand, sir,” I say.
“Marry her and make her happy.She’s loved you since she was twelve.I thought it would blow over, but it never did.”
“No sir, it hasn’t blown over.”
“Her brothers will try to steamroll you if you give them an inch, so don’t.That’s my fault.I’ll tell them to back off and let Phoebe make her own decisions.”
“That sounds good, sir.I have your permission, then?”
“You’re an attorney, correct?And you’ll be making a good living going forward?”
“Absolutely.And I plan to continue ranching, sir.”If he doesn’t know that we’ve struck it rich with StellaR Tech, there’s no point in mentioning it.
“You have my permission.What else?”
Dad holds out the stack of invitations.“My second-eldest son, Finlay, is getting married in two days.These are invitations to everyone in your family, requesting that you join us for the wedding celebration.You would do us a great honor if you’d join us.”
Gil accepts the envelopes and stares down at them for a long moment, saying nothing.When he looks up, I see tears in his eyes.
“We’ll be there.”
We thank Gil for his time, slip out the bedroom, go down the hall and down the stairs, and let ourselves out.
Dad and I don’t speak until we’re pulling out from the ranch lane and are on the state highway.
“Has he always been like that?”
“Yep,” Dad says.
“Does it feel good to put an end to the hard feelings after all this time?”
“It does,” he says.“How’s it feel to have permission to court Phoebe?”
“I never used that word, Dad.I never would.In my mind, ‘court’ is a place where I go to argue or plead.”
“Good.You’re all set for marriage, then.”
CHAPTER 60
Phoebe
The dining room is flooded with the warmth of the fireplace and the twinkling of Christmas lights.The garlands of evergreen boughs fill the air with sweet fragrance.Mama has switched out her huge decorative centerpiece for a more sedate collection of candles and ivy.
But I notice something has been added to the table since I went upstairs to change.
First of all, Dad is dressed up in a nice shirt and is seated at the head of the table.And at each place setting, a large heavyweight envelope is propped against a water goblet.The crisp white envelope is tied up in a simple red silk bow and our names are handwritten on the front of each card.
“What’s this?”I ask my mom as I take my seat to her left.
She shrugs.
My brothers file in and take their seats.All are frowning.
“Since when do we have fancy place cards?”Ryder asks.
“Do I have to sit here?”Mason asks.
