Andie nodded. “Unless we can just, you know, order room service. I don’t mind paying. And it’d probably help keep the place running, right?”
“How should I know?” Richard grumbled as he hoisted the suitcase up the shallow step. “By the looks of that note left on the front door, we’re going into business with a ten-year-old who’d rather communicate using elementary level notes. Why don’t you flip that thing over and ask if we can order from the kitchen? Keep it simple with a yes or no check box and he should be able to figure it out.”
Andie was barely registering her brother’s words as she took in the small porch. It was lined with a waist-high banister that matched the other accents on the structure. A tall-back rocking chair rested beside a cracked pot with a withered plant. She imagined a day where she could replace the dried shrub for some fresh, spring flowers and relax on the chair in the shade, a good book in her hand.
She shook her head to shake off the thought. She hadn’t sat down to enjoy a good story since high school.
“How do you geniuses expect to get into the place?” came Emmitt from the SUV. “You think they’re going to magically open up for us?”
Andie shot a look at Richard in time to see his nostrils flare. He reached out to jiggle the knob and groaned when it proved to be locked. “Crap,” he said, giving the door a hard punch.
“I’m calling the front desk,” Emmitt announced. The phone was already up to his ear. “Yes, hello there, Betty, did you say? My name is Emmitt Duran and I’m one of the new owners here at The Homestead.”
He paused there. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you. We’d like that very much. You don’t say…”
Richard threw his head back in exhaustion. “Get on with it, Mr. Chatty…”
“My siblings and I found the note up front,” Emmitt continued, “the one about picking out our cabins back here, but we’ve run into a problem. Can you give us the keycode to get into the cabin of our choice, or do we need to drive back there and get an actual key?”
Andie turned her attention back to the door to see a small keypad on the doorknob plate. She hadn’t noticed it before.
“Thanks, Betty,” Emmitt came again. “My sister Andie picked out cabin number nineteen.” He nodded. “Shedoeshave impeccable taste, you’re right about that. Okay…okay. Got it. We’ll call you back when my brother and I make our selections. You betcha, thankyou.Goodbye now.”
“You betcha? Goodbye now?”Richard razzed.“What, did you turnhickalready?”
“What can I say?” Emmitt said with a shrug as he strode up to the door. “Unlike you, I’m adaptable.” He turned his gaze to Andie. “Punch the numbers three, three, seven, three, then hit the star button. It should unlock and allow you to set your own if you’d like to change it.”
Andie followed direction, the brass keys cold beneath her fingertips, and smiled as the metal clank of a sliding lock sounded. She sighed with relief.
“Thanks, Emmitt.” She pushed open the door and stepped in, turning to watch Richard tap the snow off the wheels before lifting her suitcase inside. “And thanks, Richard, for bringing my stuff in. I can take it from here.”
“Alright then,” he said with a nod. “We’ll grab cabins of our own.”
And as her brothers filtered out the door, Andie set her mind on the first order of business—the horses. The inn was just a short walk away, so she’d head there first. The barn would be more of a trek, but she’d insist on going there next to see the conditions firsthand.
The mere recollection of their welcome note had Andie wondering just how her interaction with the other owner would go. She shook her head as a humorless laugh snuck up her throat.Not negotiable.He knew they owned half of the place, yet he still planned to tell them what was negotiable and what wasn’t?Perhaps Andie needed to gain the man’s respect, let him know she was a force to be reckoned with. In fact, maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to compromise. She could insist that the inn sell the horses to private owners regardless of their living conditions. What, with her measly ten percent ownership?
She considered that, another sigh slipping through her lips. First the uncouth cowboy and now this. She might have been forced to change her name, change her life, and say goodbye to two of her four brothers. But one thing she wouldn’t do is back down to some bully trying to rule yet another aspect of her life. Whoever this guy was, he better be ready for a fight.
Chapter 4
Brewer, Missouri. Brewer, Missouri.
The words were a chant in Trenton’s head as he hurried back toward the roadside. He felt like one massive live wire, each limb electric. Every thought threatening to push him to the brink. So therewasa story. Something big enough to make headlines the year Trenton was born.
He and Trigger rode on the wave of adrenaline all the way to his ranch. But by the time Trenton had Trigger tied up to the post out front of his house, something new took over—nausea. Apprehension. Maybe even fear.
“I’ll be right back, boy,” he told the horse while patting his back.
Trenton’s legs turned to noodles as he trailed up the porch steps, pushed opened the door, and walked inside. He slowed his steps even more as he moved down the hallway of his home, the wood floors creaking beneath his boots.
Emotion gripped hold of him. A massive swell that pressed against the walls of his aching chest. He felt like a teenager again, sneaking into his grandfather’s study to look for answers to his past. He knew only two things. One: his parents were dead. Two: Milton was the only living relative. How his parents died, where they’d lived, and what their lives had been like up to that day—all of it remained a mystery.
After rounding the corner of the den, Trenton’s eyes shot to the laptop resting on the desk. Slats of light fell from the blind-covered window, casting a dramatic contrast of light and dark.
Trenton bit the tip of his leather glove enough to tug his fingers out. He repeated the action as he stared at the laptop, a sense of dread slowing his steps even more.There are some things better left unknown.
Those were Milt’s famous words. Also common was the phrase,Where you come from don’t make no difference. It’s where you’re going that matters.
