“Are we good?” I ask.
Her expression shifts slightly.
Like maybe she didn’t expect me to agree.
She smiles, and her posture relaxes.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” she says. “It was bound to be a little weird today, right?”
She laughs, and it’s a real laugh.
She waves the folder again. “I really have to go.”
That’s my cue.
I nod once. “Of course.”
She opens the door, and I follow her back into the hallway.
The distance between us slams back into place.
Boss.
Employee.
Lines drawn exactly where they’re supposed to be.
I walk back toward the lobby and out the front doors, where my parents and Diana are waiting.
My father looks up when I approach. “Find what you were looking for?”
I nod. “Yeah, I did.”
He claps me on the back, and we walk out to the waiting car.
The sun is starting to set when I pull my SUV out of the Belicourt parking lot with my mother riding shotgun.
My father barely finished his phone call before announcing he had dinner plans with one of his campaign donors.
Apparently, the man owns half of a development company somewhere in Jackson Hole and wants to discuss “future opportunities.”
Which translates to Barron Garrison eating lobster and drinking expensive whiskey somewhere while talking about his two favorite things: money and politics.
My mother smiled politely.
Then she turned to me as soon as he left the room.
“Would you take me out to see your grandfather?”
So, here we are.
She holds a warm takeout bag on her lap—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a container of gravy that smells like heaven for the two of us and the usual for Granddad.
My headlights sweep across the darkening road as we leave the hotel behind.
The farther we go, the quieter everything gets.
Fields stretch out on both sides of the road.
