No pressure.
Bear Claw had a way of protecting its own. My dad had made sure of that years ago, buying up as much local property as he could when out-of-state money started sniffing around themountain. They say you inherit your kinks from your parents, and I am pretty sure it’s where Chris got his real estate fetish.
The town returned the favor, heads down, mouths shut, even with Kelsey Best walking around the general store like a regular person. No leaked photos. No paparazzi camped at the trailhead.
I appreciated that more than I could say. Which I did, by not growling at the people in town.
I’d already started making a few quiet upgrades to my mom’s cabin up the mountain. A bed I could actually fit in. Fresh paint. Small things that make it more comfortable while still feeling like hers. The cabin mattered. That was all I was going to say about that.
Tonight it was going to matter a hell of a lot more.
I grabbed the fire extinguishers and headed out to find my father and grandfather already deep in debate over turkey preparation. The setup was impressive, three fryers assembled on a patio a safe distance from the cabin, oil heating, Coach presiding over the whole operation like a general surveying a battlefield he had personally chosen.
“You have to make sure the turkey is completely dry, Dad, or we’ll burn down the whole mountain,” my father was saying as I got closer.
“I made sure they were totally dry, kid. I’m not an idiot,” Coach replied with the disdain of a man being lectured by his adult son.
“They are literally dripping liquid.”
“That’s the butter from the flavor injections.” Coach straightened with pride. “I learned it on The Barefoot Princessa.”
Since retiring, Coach had gotten very into cooking shows. This was everyone’s problem now. I was still recovering from the Julia Children’s warm cucumber salad incident.
“You injected butter into a turkey we are about to deep fry?” my dad asked.
“Yup. Keeps the bird moist.”
“Maybe we can get a bulk discount with a cardiologist,” Dad muttered. He looked up, spotted me, and nodded. “Hey, son.”
“Hey guys. Going good?”
“Your father doesn’t appreciate my culinary prowess. He needs to trust the process,” Coach said.
“Yeah, Dad. Trust the process.” I held up the fire extinguishers. “Nana trusts the process so much she sent me up here with these, just in case.”
“Smart asses,” Coach grumbled. “The whole lot of you.”
My dad laughed and rolled his eyes. I’d heard him say the exact same thing to the eight of us Kingman kids at least a hundred billion times over the years. He tipped his head toward me and spoke softly. “Everything ready?”
“Yeah.” I lowered my voice. “Plan is for Flynn, Isak, and Jules to slip out after dinner and get everything set up.”
“Oh, I heard. Operation Let it Glow.” He smiled.
In typical Jules fashion, my simple request for a little help had been transformed into an elaborate, classified secret mission with a code name, a mission brief, and a level of organizational detail that made me genuinely concerned about what she was going to be like when she had actual authority over something.
I loved my sister more than pretty much anyone else on earth, second only to Kelsey, but her dream of founding the sovereign nation of Juleslandia and declaring herself Queen was not entirely a joke. I was like sixty percent sure about that.
“According to Jules,” I said, “the glow never bothered her anyway.”
“Not nervous?” Dad asked, reading my face the way he always did.
“Not about the asking.” I watched Kelsey through the window, laughing at something Trixie said. “People will think it’s too soon.”
“I thought the same thing when I asked your mom to marry me.” He went quiet for a moment, the way he always did when he talked about her, not sad exactly, just careful with it, like he was carrying something he didn’t want to spill. “But I knew the first night I met her. No point in wasting time on something you’re already sure of.”
“I’m well beyond fucking sure.” I paused. “After what she told me about Mom having such an influence on her, sometimes I feel like Mom picked her out and sent her my way.”
“I’d like to think that’s true, Declan.” He looked out at the mountain. “I still talk to her about all of you. And I like to think she’s watching.”
