That tracks.
Senator Barron Garrison doesn’t exactly spend his days combing through spreadsheets anymore. That’s what he has me for.
Still, I know he expects the numbers to be right.
“The numbers are strong,” I say. “Better than projected.”
A faint approving look passes across his face.
Not quite praise.
But close enough.
My mother takes a sip of wine and smiles warmly at me.
“My friend Elaine and her husband spent their summer vacation at the Belicourt,” she says. “And they couldn’t stop talking about it. They plan to take their entire family back to ski over the holidays.”
I return her smile. “That’s good to hear.”
My father lifts his glass. “I’d expect nothing less.”
There’s no arrogance in the way he says it.
Just fact.
A server arrives with shrimp cocktail appetizers, served in chilled martini glasses and the conversation quiets as we dig in.
I relax, watching my parents across the table.
They look exactly like they always have.
Polished and composed.
The perfect couple.
I clear my throat. “So,” I say casually, “Josiah’s surgery is scheduled for the end of October.”
My mother’s eyes immediately flick to mine.
Concern softens her expression.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “That soon?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “They finally locked it in this week.”
My father sets his glass down. “What are they doing again?”
“Knee replacement,” I say. “The pain has gotten bad enough that he barely leaves his recliner.”
That lands heavier than I expected.
“I hate hearing that,” Mom says.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Me too.”
A beat passes.
“Are you two planning to make it out to the ranch while you’re here?”
