The Kings of the Cliffs
Why my wifeinsisted on having these events on my land, I would never understand. Well, two of the four annual events in Cypress Cliffs happened on my land. The Coastal Crush was still held annually, and then there was the Spring Fling.
I had to admit, hosting the Fling made sense. It was after we moved the herd from the lower northern pasture to the higher one. Calvin and a group of his men would join for the move, and once we had the cows situated, we celebrated with Vierra Beef steaks and Sterling Wines.
There wasn’t much that happened in Cypress Cliffs that didn’t involve those two things.
“There they are.” Mark Pederson said as he joined us at the grill. “The Kings of the Cliffs.”
I shook my head and glared at him. “Will you stop calling us that?”
The nickname had stuck about a year earlier when a farming magazine had done an article on the two of us. Both Calvin andI had agreed it would be good for the region and the town. Our only condition was that they leave our families out of it. We didn’t mind mentions of our wives and children but they would not be photographed. The headline of the article was titledThe Kings of the Cliffs.The name had stuck ever since.
“You are so easy to rile up, Vierra.” Mark shook his head and took the next labelled container off the table. Him, Calvin, and I were manning the smoker and the Grill. Well mostly, Mark, since Calvin and I were herding cows most of the morning. Still, all three of us had been out here since the night before.
Mark handed me a dish to place the steak into. “This is for Mr. and Mrs. Henderson and their granddaughter. They ordered steak only. He didn’t trust that I knew what I was doing when it came to brisket. I figured they’re here trying to show their kids some normalcy.”
“You and I both know it’s not what they’re trying to do.” I eyed Mark knowing he was trying to give the elderly couple the benefit of the doubt. I was not as kind.
Tom Henderson remained a thorn in Calvin’s and my side. Despite the fact that the Ranch and the Vineyard were multimillion-dollar businesses, he still thought I was drowning in debt and Calvin was indulging a hobby. Or pretended to believe, at least.
Calvin and I, of course, had the option to ignore and defy him. What they had done to their own daughter, though, was beyond disgusting. And now they had a young granddaughter, Calla, living with them. A child they treated like a trophy or an ornament. The little girl was the same age as my son, Zachary.
Of course my oldest, Leo and Calvin’s oldest, Declan, were born about two weeks apart. His daughter Mia had come a little while after Zach, my middle child. Calvin’s youngest, Lincoln, had just started walking with my daughter Penelope, a few months older
“Daddy.” Zach, my four year old tugged on my jeans. “I’m going to play with Calla.”
Calla was Zachary’s new best friend. They met when they both started pre-school in the fall.
“Sure.” I looked down at the child who bore the most resemblance to me, but had his mother’s sunshine. “Stay where I can see you. Or let your mom or her grandma be with you at all times.” I knew Mrs. Henderson was not happy about the friendship, but she wouldn’t say anything. She wanted to keep up appearances at all costs.
Zach was off running before I had a chance to finish the sentence. “Yes, Daddy.”
My gaze moved in the direction of my other son. Leo was on the trampoline with Declan and Mia, as well as Mark’s kids, Max and Natalie. There were a few other tourist kids joining them, too.
Since Mark had finished building the resort six years ago, Cypress Cliffs had become one of the top tourist towns on the West Coast.
The upside of that was the impact it had on the economy in the area. The downside was the fucking tourists. And their fucking entitled children.
The trampoline was big enough for at least fifteen kids. I’d installed it specifically for town events, even though my children got the most enjoyment. Still, one those little touristy fuckers thought it was a good idea to push a wobbly Mia on the trampoline. The kid was at least as big as Declan or Leo.
The interaction that followed was one that would live rent free in my head for a long time. I looked over at Calvin who was on duty watching the kids and he was staring at the kids as much as I was.
Declan and Leo stood on the trampoline between the little fucker and Mia. The scowl my son wore was far too familiarwhile he crossed his arms. Declan had his hand in his pockets and just stared, casually at the tourist kid. Leo and Declan exchanged a look, a silent conversation so similar to Calvin and me. Then stepped back and went to check on Mia. Declan argued with the other kid while Leo led Mia to the edge of the trampoline. He stepped off before her and kneeled on all fours to give Mia the leverage she needed to get down safely. Then he led her to where her mom was sitting with Rory and Meg.
Cal moved over to me and smiled. “I told you.”
“Yeah, but they’re our kids. It's never gonna be quite so simple.”
I checked the trampoline once more and Declan was escorting the other kid off the trampoline. I had no idea what words were exchanged but I was willing to bet they were more like his mother’s teacher voice than the man who thought two struggling farmers should stow away an heiress on the run.
The kid ran straight to his parents to complain. I nudged Mark in the side. “Is he staying at your place?”
“Yes, and he and his wife have complained about everything.” Mark grumbled. “If they moan about that incident I will comp them a picnic on horseback and a fucking wine tasting.”
The fucker knew how much I hated doing those things.
Because as promised by my lovely wife, I led horseback picnics once or twice per week and Calvin did tastings even more regularly. Once Rory and Allie included Meg, who had a degree in marketing, in their circle, the three women were unstoppable. Also, with Cal’s youngest now walking it was the first time in seven years none of the women were pregnant or nursing. Which meant they were finally doing Mimosas with Sunday breakfast. Not many though, because we were still parents.
