His wife, Heather, was not like her. Not really. While they both were managers, Heather did everything with warmth and a touch of southern charm. Winter didn’t do that. She didn’t bullshit, and he respected that.
Seeing her crumble.
Just a bit, Saturday night when her ex called.
That had been surprising.
He expected her to break and tear something.
Not collapse.
She didn’t cry.
But she did curl into him for a few minutes while she composed herself.
And he was glad to be there for her at that moment.
He wanted to be there for her in all those moments.
If she’d let him.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t talking to him at the moment. Which wasn’t promising.
At least Lita had called Sunday night about a property he’d been looking at. Buying a new property to manage always put him in a better mood. Kept him from having idle hands.
“Well, Lita, you know what I can do. We’ve talked about it.”
Lita sighed through the phone. “I’ll call them back. But I’m telling you, Uncle Shaun, they’re not going to like that offer.”
He shrugged. “If it doesn’t come together, then it wasn’t meant to be,” he said.
Lita almost recited the words with him and started going over some of the property specs again.
The words kept playing in his mind. They’d become his motto of sorts since Heather got sick.
If it was meant to be, it would come together.
To him, it meant the hard work would be worth it if it worked out in the end. And if it didn’t? Then he’d know better for next time.
He applied it to everything.
Work.
Home.
His family.
Even with Winter.
Though that one looked like it wouldn’t be coming together—she hadn’t spoken to him since he left Saturday night after dinner. He’d tried a couple of times to call.
Maybe she was just too stubborn for her own good. More than he could handle. If that was the case, so be it.
He didn’t love her.
But damn, if helikedher a ton.
“Did you hear me, Uncle Shaun? About the appraiser?”
