“We can do the labor,” I agree. “But we need materials. Lumber, wire, fixtures. That costs money. And the fines... the County won’t take a promissory note. They want cash.”
Boone looks at me. “Is it even our place to pay this? It’s her ranch. Her debt. Maybe we should just tell her. Let her handle it.”
“And let the barns get condemned?” I counter. “If they condemn the barns, we can’t house the cattle. We lose the herd. We lose the hay storage. This place becomes worthless. Not just to her, but to us.”
“She’s going to freak out,” Knox says. “She’s already on edge. If we tell her Anthony let this happen, that he ignored the letters... she’s going to lose it.”
“She’s already lost it,” I mutter.
We’ve all noticed it. The distance. The way she moves around the main house like a ghost. She still sleeps right in the middle of the floor, but she makes an effort to pretend that we aren’t there either.
We’re all stuck in the main house. The generators can’t handle the load of heating three separate cabins in this weather, so we’ve all moved into the big house. It’s crowded.Too crowded.
“We’re spending a fortune on fuel for those generators,” Knox points out. “We can’t keep this up for months. We need the power back on permanently. Which means fixing the grid issues, which is part of the inspection.”
“So we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t,” Boone says. He drums his fingers on the table. “If we pay the fines, we’re investing in a property she might sell out from under us. If we don’t, we lose the work we’ve put in for years.”
“Do you think she would really sell it out from under us?” I ask. “After everything? After the storm?”
“I don’t know,” Boone admits. “She’s angry, Rhett. She’s hurt. And she’s stubborn as hell. She sees us as the enemy. She thinks we’re trying to steal her birthright.”
“She told me as much,” I say. “The other day. She said my kindness wouldn’t change her mind. She thinks we’re manipulating her.”
“Are we?” Knox asks. “Are we manipulating her?”
“I don’t know,” I say again. “But I know we can’t fix the financial mess without talking to her. The best way out of this is taking out a loan, and even if that’s successful, we can’t just drop eighteen thousand dollars without her knowing.”
“She won’t take the money,” Boone says. “She’s too proud. She’ll see it as us buying her off.”
“Then we don’t frame it as buying her off,” I say. “We frame it as a loan. Or an investment. Or we just present the problemand the solution together, and make her realize she has no other choice.”
Knox groans. “This is going to go well.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s going to be a disaster.”
Six hours later, the front door opens.
Knox and I are in the living room, waiting. The rain hasn’t let up, but the wind has died down to a moan.
Saramaria walks in, Blue bounding in ahead of her, shaking water all over the rug. She’s soaked, her hair plastered to her head, but she looks... lighter. There’s a color in her cheeks that wasn’t there this morning. She smells faintly of perfume and old books, overlaying the wet dog scent.
She stops when she sees us. The light fades from her eyes, replaced by the usual wary guard.
“Hey,” she says.
“We were wondering when you’d get back,” Knox says, standing up. He looks at me.
I take the cue. I walk over to the mantle and pick up the County notice.
“Is this about the truck? I left a note.” She sounds defensive.
“This isn’t about the truck, Saramaria,” I say. “We need to talk.”
She stiffens, her hand tightening on Wellsy’s collar. “What is it?”
I hand her the envelope.
She takes it, her frown matching Boone’s from earlier. She opens it, pulling out the papers.
