Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (4 page)

Chris caught up to him. “But you're missing a prime opportunity to—­”

“I don't have time.”

“Daniel and I can—­”

“Stop!” Will's voice was a little too sharp. With a sigh, he turned to walk backward so he could see his little brother. “Let it go, Chris, okay?”

“For now. Just so you know, I moved the dams on the Rigel field. Daniel took care of the Orion. We can handle things.”

“Put the helicopter in the hangar, will you?”

And that was the end of the conversation. Will would be happy when Chris and his fiancée, Heather Armstrong, were married. Maybe then Chris would focus on his wife and his home and leave Will in peace.

At the house, Will entered through the mudroom, kicking off his cowboy boots and washing his hands and face in the big industrial sink.

As he was drying off, he spotted his mom, Faith, standing in the doorway, holding a glass of wine. As usual, she wore a flowing, billowy dress, like a flower child from the '60s, though she'd only been a young girl then. Her dark, frizzy hair, streaked with gray, hung soft and loose down her back. There were faint lines on her fresh-­scrubbed face, but none of that mattered next to the warmth of her smile.

“How was the ride?” she asked.

“Good. Beautiful conditions,” he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he walked past.

The kitchen lights weren't on yet, and the golden rays of the setting sun cast the room in warm, mellow tones. Crystals hanging in the windows separated the light into the occasional rainbow of color across the countertop or floor. Candles burned in lotus holders, and a statue of the goddess held the place of honor in the picture window of the breakfast nook. Will shook his head fondly at all the evidence of his mother's bohemian lifestyle. It wasn't just his mom, of course. His dad was big into Slow Food, and he was involved with the distribution of organic foods to all the restaurants in the entire Roaring Fork Valley.

He glanced toward the dining room, hearing lots of raised voices.

“We're having a dinner party,” Faith said.

Will cocked his head. “Any special reason?”

“We're celebrating Emily and Nate's inclusion on the adoption agency website.”

“Good reason. Do I have time for a quick shower?”

“No, you're fine.” She swept past him, leaving a perfumed trail in her wake. “I'm just getting the appetizers ready. Can you carry a tray in?”

He grabbed a ­couple pieces of cheese before doing as his mom asked. The decibel level vastly increased as he entered the dining room, which was separated from the living room by a big stone fireplace open on both sides. Floor-­to-­ceiling windows overlooked the patio and the Elk Mountains beyond, in shadow now that the sun had set beyond them. He was swamped immediately by starving family members, and he set down the tray before returning for another one. Standing momentarily in the doorway, he watched them all, feeling a sense of contentment and love. Chris stood talking to his fiancée, Heather, who owned As You Like It Catering. His baby sister, Steph, had brought along her boyfriend, Tyler Brissette, who ate like he hadn't seen food in a week. Will's dad, Joe, stood talking to Grandma Sweet, both of them wearing serious expressions. The two of them always had a lot to talk about, including gossip about everyone in Valentine.

Even Daniel had brought a date, Will thought with surprise. He wasn't sure he'd ever met her before. She was dressed all in black, with dark makeup around her eyes, black hair that covered half her face, and a stud beneath her lip, just like Daniel had. Coincidence? Will would have to ask later.

And then he realized that he and Grandma Sweet were the only unattached ­people in the house. He suppressed a laugh. He asked if anyone else needed a drink, then went and got himself a bottle of beer.

The guests of honor stood near a laptop on the dining table, pointing at the little picture of their smiling faces on the screen and saying something about it to Heather. Nate had his arm around Emily, and they seemed to glow with enthusiasm and excitement. Nate ran the business empire part of the Silver Creek Ranch. He was a genius at investing, and he'd shored up the shaky finances of the business a few years back. He'd fallen in love with Emily when she'd moved to town, ostensibly to sell a family property. She'd ended up staying after falling in love with Nate, opening a bakery—­and discovering that Will's dad was also hers.

Joe's high school girlfriend had left town and married someone else, pretending that that guy was Emily's father. Only after her mom's death was Emily able to follow the clues and discover the truth. Joe had missed out on thirty years of her life, and in the weeks after he'd first found out, he'd been sadder and more distracted than Will had ever seen. But he'd bounced back as he'd gotten to know Emily, and now she was just as much a part of the family as any of them.

Will joined Nate and Emily. “Congratulations,” he said, shaking Nate's hand and giving Emily a hug. “Why don't you show me this website? Read the info out loud so we can all hear.”

Everyone gathered around as Emily read with an excited voice. She had their dad's blue eyes, adding her own tint of strawberry blond hair to the family's various blond hues. Only Daniel had their mom's darker hair.

“It took us a while to decide how we really wanted to go,” Emily continued. “Foreign adoption or private, a baby or any age child. After a while, we realized we wanted a baby and we wanted to try to make it happen here.”

“So how long can a private adoption take?” Faith asked, after taking another sip of wine.

“The average wait time is eighteen months,” Nate said. “Basically, you just wait until you're chosen.”

“But we've already had the home visit and been approved—­that's a major hurdle,” Emily added. “We're even considering starting our own website for the adoption, with more details about us and our lives. They say it helps the moms decide who to choose for the adoption.”

“Here's to a quick success!” Grandma Sweet said, lifting her glass in a toast. Everyone else followed suit.

After a few more minutes of adoption excitement, everyone settled down for dinner. Will grilled steaks on the patio with his dad and listened to the highlights of Joe's latest projects, from the high school garden program to the farmers' market in Silver Creek Park and the newest restaurant joining the organic food network he coordinated. Joe and Grandma Sweet even had some investments on Main Street that they kept track of. Will was glad all those interests made his dad happy, but he wasn't much like his dad. As Will kept telling Chris, he was all about the ranch. He worked hard as a cowboy, and he loved his life, whether it was riding fence or herding cattle or rebuilding the engine of the feeding truck. Every day was different, and he was outdoors—­even if that meant rain or snow.

Sometimes he worried he was disappointing his dad, since he wasn't involved in the inn or any of the other businesses. But he had brothers and cousins who wanted to deal with those things. Even his mom seemed to be spreading out, recently becoming a partner in the Mystic Connection, the New Age shop in Valentine. Since she spent enough time there, he thought as they all settled around the table to enjoy their meal, he was glad she'd have a say in its future.

The conversation went from baby talk to weddings, and Chris and Heather admitted they were about to discuss wedding dates. That started a whole discussion about what kind of reception they wanted.

“Every time we think we know what we want, someone else beats us to the marriage game,” Chris admitted. “Last Christmas it was Brooke and Adam, and this summer it's Tony and Kate—­and this is their
second
wedding.”

“It's very romantic that they're having it at the same place,” Emily said with a soft sigh.

“The Rose Garden,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“What, you can't get married at the same place someone else did?” Daniel demanded with pretend outrage, itching his latest tattoo.

Heather laughed. “No, it's just the Valentine Valley curse, I guess. Weddings everywhere.”

“You know you are always invited to have it at the inn,” Grandma Sweet pointed out.

“We know that, Grandma,” Chris said, “and you're the best. We're just not sure if we want a formal or informal wedding.”

“And you want yours to feel special,” Faith said.

“Of course it'll feel special.” Heather took Chris's hand. “I'm marrying a great guy.”

Everyone around the table did the “aww” thing, and the wedding talk just kept going on and on. By the time Steph, Emily, and Heather were gushing about flowers, Will caught Daniel's eye, and they shared a commiserating glance. Will thought a guy had to be getting married to care about wedding details, but it wasn't that way with women.

Daniel's date, Chelsea–Daniel had finally remembered to introduce her—­didn't have all that much to say. She worked at the Open Book and seemed as if she must read more than she spoke.

But she did speak up about the meal. “Sorry I didn't eat my steak, Mrs. Sweet. I'm a vegetarian.”

Faith frowned her worry. “I'm so sorry, dear. Daniel should have told me.”

“I left a note on your desk, Mom,” Daniel said. “You didn't get it?”

“Oh,” Faith said, her cheeks going red. “I must have missed it. Guess you'll just have to text me next time,” she added awkwardly.

“We can text you now?” Steph asked, surprised. “Since when?”

“I have to get better at all this modern technology.” Faith sounded a little defensive.

Steph cleared her throat. “And on that subject, guess we'll get a chance to text even more than you thought. I'm going to sublet the apartment over Monica's Flowers and Gifts.”

A frown wrinkled Faith's forehead. “Oh, I didn't realize you weren't happy.”

Emily, Steph's summer boss, appeared chagrined. Tyler, Steph's boyfriend, pointedly kept eating his steak without glancing up. Will wondered if Tyler was moving in too, but he didn't ask. He knew the boy was attending classes at Colorado Mountain College, CMC. He also knew that Steph was perfectly old enough, but . . . even he was a little uncomfortable at the thought of his baby sister running off to—­

“Not happy?” Steph's eyes widened, even as she grinned. “Of course I'm happy. But I'm nineteen, Mom, and I just finished my first year of college. Monica's place is empty because she and Travis just bought a house, remember?” She scrupulously kept her eyes off their grandma, who studied her with interest. “And I'm working full-­time with Em, and I just . . . want my commute to be a little easier.”

Will held back a snort and didn't look at his brothers. They might easily set each other off into laughter. Everyone knew a commute in Valentine Valley was a few minutes at best. Heavy traffic was a herd of cattle crossing the road from one pasture to the next.

Their dad cleared his throat, and Will wondered if he was warning his sons to keep quiet.

Joe then smiled at his youngest. “Of course we understand, honey. It's just kind of surprising.”

Steph glanced around. “Probably because none of the boys have bothered moving away at all.”

“Hey, we all work here,” Will pointed out. “And we have our own place.” Okay, they'd renovated and converted the bunkhouse. But it was away from the house.

“I don't see you eating in your own kitchen much,” she shot back knowingly.

“This isn't about me, is it?” Will asked.

He thought her eyes took on a slightly pleading look, her head tilting toward their mom, who still wore a troubled frown, and he relented.

“So, Grandma,” he said, after swallowing a bite of baked potato, “what's going on with the historical society?”

Grandma Sweet delicately patted her lips with her napkin and replaced it on her lap. Tonight's little hat was made of straw, and it was perched jauntily toward one side of her head. She tilted her chin up, which made the hat jiggle.

“Going on?” she echoed in that imperious way she sometimes had. “I believe an election is ‘going on.' ”

Goth Girl stared at Grandma Sweet, her black-­rimmed eyes rather wide.

Steph choked and covered her mouth with her napkin. Will shot her an “I did this for you” glare.

“We have an election every other year,” Grandma Sweet continued, elongating her words as if Will was a child.

“I know that, Grandma,” he said just as slowly, “but I was with you when you saw Mrs. Thalberg's banner at the ball field. This is not just a normal election—­or so your expression said.” He knew she wouldn't take it well, discovering that her emotions were so obvious.

“Mrs. Thalberg's banner?” Joe asked, frowning.

Will gave his grandma a pointed stare.

“Rosemary is running against me for the presidency. She put up a campaign banner visible from the baseball stands.”

All eyes went to Nate, Mrs. Thalberg's grandson, who looked like he wished he could drop a spoon and crawl under the table to find it.

“Are you blushing, Nathaniel?” Will teased.

Emily rolled her eyes, but laughter lurked at the corners of her mouth.

“I don't need to blush,” Nate insisted. “I have nothing to do with any of it.”

“Easy out,” Daniel said, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So you didn't know anything about it?” Will pressed.

“Well . . . sure I knew,” Nate said. “She told me she was running, and I told her not to take on too much.”

“She does not run a business,” Grandma Sweet said coolly.

The claws were coming out, Will saw. Because of course, his grandma ran the Sweetheart Inn—­with the help of her daughter, Aunt Helen, but he wasn't going to point that out. Grandma Sweet was a ruthless businesswoman, and apparently she was the same in the historical society.