by Cassie Cole
“I understand,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s how I like it,” he said. “I prefer if nobody knows.”
“What happened to the kid? Percy?” I asked. “Did he get in trouble? He damn near killed you!”
Daniel shrugged. “Yeah, there was a whole bunch of stuff after that. It ain’t important.”
He left it at that. Since he had already revealed more than I expected, I didn’t push him any further.
“Well, you rode a horse today,” I said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you looked mighty good doing it.”
He grinned sideways at me. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Think you can do it again?”
He looked up at the horse, then put one foot in the stirrup. As easy as could be he stepped up to the saddle, taking the reins and walking the horse a few steps.
“Looks like it.” He sounded surprised. “Guess the mental block is gone.”
“All it took was a damsel in distress!”
He laughed and hopped back off. “You ain’t no damsel, Cindy.” He frowned. “What made you hop on that horse and ride off, anyway?”
Ahh, shit. The part I was trying to forget. “Got a letter from the bank. Foreclosure auction date has been set for Wednesday. 2:00pm.”
“This Wednesday? As in, 48 hours from now?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Oh.” He stared off. “That’s too bad.”
It was too bad. The epiphany I’d had while riding away on the crazy horse still stuck with me: that part of me wanted to keep this place. Visit on the weekends when I needed to unplug from the world. Recharge my batteries once a month and return to Austin with a fresh mind.
That desire had been with me, deep down, for the past week. I knew that now. Too bad it was too late.
“Yeah,” I said. “The end is here. We need to finish up any repairs we have pending, so it’s in as good a shape as possible for the auction. Hopefully it’ll fetch a somewhat decent price. I have your hard work to thank for that.”
But instead of looking satisfied at my compliment, a distraught look came over his face. “Yeah, about that…”
“What is it?”
He cleared his throat. “Best if I show you when we get home.”
“No,” I said, “it’s best if you tell me right now.”
He sighed. “So, I was repairin’ the last few floor boards. The ones in the front of the house, the den? And I got a good look at the crawlspace underneath…”
“Spit it out.”
“You’ve got termites,” he said. “A whole mess of ‘em.”
“Termites? In West Texas?”
“Yeah, first time I’ve seen an infestation this bad too. They’ve eaten through the brick on the front foundation, and have worked their way up the left side.”
“That’s great,” I said. “I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but I guess the universe took that as a challenge.”
“The house can be treated, but…” He shrugged.
“Not before the auction,” I finished. “Yeah. Buyers are going to love that.”
He pulled out a piece of paper. “Strange thing about it? Your father had an inspection just last year. Turned up nothin’.”
“Huh,” I said, scanning the document. “Is it weird for a termite infestation to spring up within a year?”
“Not really, I guess,” he said.
“Then it doesn’t matter. What can we do about it before the auction?”
“All we can do is fix the floor boards and hope they don’t notice. Since most auction are as-is, they might not check…”
Despite his words, I felt all hope draining out of me.
*
Landon and Chase were waiting when we got home.
“Hey,” I began, wondering if they would immediately know what Daniel and I had done. But it was Landon who looked uncomfortable as we went into the kitchen.
“You’ve, uhh, got some voicemails.”
“Based on your tone, you heard them. And they’re not good.”
Both of them shuffled awkwardly; Chase scratched his dirty blond hair and looked away. That was all the confirmation I needed.
I hit play on the ancient answering machine.
BEEP.
“Cindy, it’s Frank Cormoran. Jason gave me this number since you’re not answering your cell. I was disappointed you missed the presentation this morning. I thought I made it quite clear that your presence was crucial. Now, I’m not heartless. I understand you’re grieving, which is why I encouraged you to take all three bereavement days your benefits allow. However…”
He sighed into the receiver. I tensed, waiting for the terrible words I knew he was about to say.
“I would like you speak with you at your earliest convenience. Preferably in person. Thank you.”
I sighed as the message ended. “Oh thank God. I thought I was going to be fired.”
“Your boss seems swell,” Daniel said as the next message began.
BEEP.
“Miss Jameson. It’s Arthur, from the Greenville Credit Union. I wanted to apologize for the coldness of the letter you received. I’m not unsympathetic to your issues; foreclosure is a difficult process for everyone. I would love it if you came down to our office. We have a fantastic financial counseling course, and I would recommend you apply for a credit protection plan to safeguard you during—”
I practically punched the machine to delete the message. The last thing I wanted was a bank manager trying to sell me on his services.
BEEP.
“Cindy. This is Bobby. Bobby Bonile? Your father’s estate lawyer? I need to speak with you urgently regarding your house—”
I hit delete without listening to the rest. “Thanks for the foreclosure warning, but you’re a little late,” I muttered.
The Hughes brothers stood around the kitchen. They looked like a bunch of sad rodeo clowns without their makeup on.
“Christ, don’t look at me like that.”
“Cindy,” Landon said. “I’m sorry about the foreclosure auction.”
“48 hours is awfully quick,” Chase added.
I took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does. Finish the last floor board and take the rest of the day off.”
Landon crossed his arms. “What, while you feel sorry for yourself at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey?”
“No,” I said, grabbing my cell phone and charger. “I’m going back to Austin to see if I can salvage my job.”
35
Landon
Her words were like a sledgehammer to my chest.
She was leaving.
“Hey, hold on a sec,” I said as I followed her into the bedroom. “You’re leaving?”
She grabbed her laptop off the bed and shoved it into her bag. “You heard the message from my boss. I need to go beg for my job.”
“So that’s it?” I said. “We’re done here?”
“I’ll be back for the auction,” she said. “But only because I want to make sure that goes smoothly. Then I’m never coming back to this fucking ranch again.”
There was an edge to her voice like she was on the verge of tears. She didn’t mean what she was saying about the ranch. There was new pain there that made me pause.
“I meant… we’re done here?” I said.
She froze with her hands in her bag. “Landon…”
“Forget I said anything,” I said, turning back to the kitchen.
“I can’t stay here, Landon.”
“Wasn’t trying to make you.”
She paused in the hallway, bag over her shoulder. She looked like she wanted to say more to me, to all of us, but then she shook it off.
“I’ll be back for the auction,” she said. “To make sure it goes fine, and to bring Heidi back to Austin with me. I’ll see you then. And if not…”
She left it unsaid and went out the front door without so much as a goodbye.
I felt numb as I went back into
the kitchen. I don’t know what I’d expected from her. The plan never involved her. But now…
“I slept with Cindy!” Daniel blurted out. He looked as guilty as a dog with its nose in the trash.
“Aww, man!” Chase moaned. “This is Anastasia all over again.”
“When’d this happen?” I asked.
Daniel explained how his morning with Cindy had gone: the quarter horse I was supposed to ride, the mad dash to rescue her, and everything after—though he skimmed over the details.
“Wait a second,” I said. “You rode Earnest to save her?”
Chase’s eyes widened when he realized the same.
“Well, yeah.” Daniel studied his boots intently. “Didn’t have a choice. Think I’ve gotten over my mental block.”
I whooped and pulled my little brother into a big hug, laughing and mussing up his hair. He blushed, and when I let go Chase hugged him too.
“That’s fucking awesome!” Chase said. “Didn’t I tell you all it would take was time? Didn’t I?”
“Yeah, ya did.”
He slapped Daniel on the back. “Shit. This is worth celebrating, even though the rest of our plans have gone to shit.”
Daniel frowned. “Have we made a decision about that?”
Chase and I exchanged a look. “We haven’t had a chance to check all the cattle. But overall, the ones we’ve seen are healthy.”
“Great shape, all things considered,” Chase added.
“That’s fine, but the house is worse than we thought.” Daniel pointed. “Over on the front of the house is a whole mess of termites. Dunno how much damage they’ve caused, but it ain’t good.”
I waved a hand. “The house was never my concern.” I looked at Daniel, then Chase, then back to Daniel, finally nodding. “I think I’m almost ready to pull the trigger.”
“Without telling her?”
“We can tell her when she gets back,” I said. “She’ll find out then anyways. And now that she’s gone, we can look at the numbers. I don’t feel guilty at all for snooping anymore.”
“Not after how cavalier she acted about leaving,” Chase said.
We dumped the box of finances out on the table and got to work calculating everything up.
36
Cindy
It’s amazing how an unspoken threat can put everything in perspective.
As I drove down my childhood driveway, I shook my head in wonder. I’d allowed myself to get distracted here. I’d chosen to forget all the bad memories, how much I hated it as a kid, and had started romanticizing it. The nostalgia, and the peace, and the simple life a ranch offered.
And three cowboy hunks, a voice whispered in my head. You let them get to you, too.
God, I felt different with them. Landon with his calm confidence and the scratch of his bristles on my cheek. Daniel’s bashfulness, with an eager energy just below the surface, waiting to be let out. Chase’s messy hair and cocky demeanor, always needing to prove himself to his brothers, to women, to the entire world.
I let them entice me. I let them intoxicate me.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
Mr. Cormoran’s phone call cut through the facade real quick. I had a life back in Austin. The life I’d carefully worked to create for the past five years. This past week had been an emotional one, and even fun at times, but it was all just a temporary vacation.
None of it was real.
I saw that with clarity, now. I needed to fix my mistakes at work. This was the first time I’d ever let my boss down, but that wasn’t a habit I could afford to continue. This was what we called a CLM: Career Limiting Move. You didn’t get a lot of those before it was too late.
If Mr. Cormoran wanted to see me in person as soon as possible, then I was going to oblige him. As soon as I drove far enough to get cell signal I would call him and let him know I was on my way.
And then I could forget all about this terrible, wonderful, foreign world.
But just before I reached the end of the driveway, another truck turned in. I pulled to the side to make room and rolled down my window.
“Mr. Bonile?” I said.
His pudgy face was dripping with sweat, making his walrus mustache droop. “Cindy! I’ve been calling you!”
“Yeah, uhh, my answering machine isn’t working. I’m sorry you rushed over here, but I know about the foreclosure date. I got the notice—”
“No!” he cut in. “We have a potential buyer!”
The words were so unexpected that it took a heartbeat for them to sink in.
“What?” I said dumbly.
“Someone wants to buy your ranch! I gave them all the estate documents this morning. Hop in and I’ll take you to their office!”
“I… Okay,” I said. “But I’ll follow you there in my car.”
He turned around, and then I followed him down the county road.
My head swam. A buyer? Now? Why not wait until the auction? They must not have gone through all the documents yet, especially if Mr. Bonile just dropped them off this morning. They’d surely back out once they saw all the debt.
We drove to the edge of town and pulled into a commercial building I’d probably passed a hundred times without noticing, all shiny black glass and red brick. I glanced at the name on the door to the first floor of offices: Huffman and Johnson Law Firm, PC.
A receptionist in a frilly blouse waited behind a desk just inside. “They’re waiting for you in conference room two,” she said cheerfully. I walked down the aisle in a daze.
The conference room looked like a war zone: boxes of documents were stacked in the corner, with papers spread out across every inch of the conference table that occupied most of the room. Two men in blue dress shirts with white collars looked up from what they were reading to smile.
“Miss Jameson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” one said. He introduced himself as Mr. Huffman, and his partner as Mr. Johnson.
“We’re just about done with the background work,” Mr. Johnson, a redhead, said. “Everything’s exactly as described in the overview.”
“We represent a very motivated buyer,” Mr. Huffman said. “They’d like to finalize the sale before all of this auction mess. Less uncertainty that way.”
I glanced at my own estate lawyer, who was bobbing his head like a toy bird. “I’m sorry, but this is all happening very fast,” I said. “Who is your buyer?”
The two lawyers shared a look. “Our buyer isn’t sure if they want to disclose that just yet. They will be at the closing tomorrow, however.”
“Tomorrow? That’s awfully quick.”
“As I said, they want to finish this before the bank auction.” Mr. Johnson handed me a stapled stack of documents. “If you’d like to read the details of their offer.”
“A lot of it is legal jargon,” Mr. Huffman said with a detectable amount of patronizing tone.
“I work for the First Bank of Austin,” I said, diving into the papers.
I read the documents thoroughly, taking my time. The offer wasn’t bad. In fact, it was shocking how good it was. They were aware of the estate’s massive debt; their offer included a provision to pay off 65% of it at closing, requiring me to cover the remaining 35% liability.
Shit, I could pay that out of my own savings just fine. It would hurt, but it was an order of magnitude better than the bank coming after my entire net worth. This was a damn good offer.
This was a way out.
“No house inspection?” I asked casually.
“No time. They’re prepared to purchase as-is.”
It was too good to be true. It was a fucking miracle. I was terrified they would pull back a curtain and yell, “Gotcha!” and point and laugh at my gullibility in believing this was a legitimate offer.
But all they did was stare back at me with their placid, lawyer eyes.
“I’ll need to review it,” I said. “But I accept the offer.”
Both of them smiled. “Our buyer will be glad to hear it!”
“Unfortunately, this sum of money cannot be moved instantaneously. It will be ready tomorrow morning, however.”
It could be moved that quickly with Bitcoin, and with less paperwork, I thought. But all I said was, “Of course, I understand.”
I waited until I was outside to scream and pump my fists like a lunatic.
37
Cindy
I blared the radio as loud as it could go as I drove through town, not caring that it was country music. I was on top of the world.
I couldn’t believe it. But then again, I didn’t need to.
I called Mr. Cormoran’s number; it went to voicemail. I left a message insisting that I would be back in the office tomorrow afternoon, and that I would fix the problems caused by missing the presentation.
I parked in front of the feed store and slapped a $20 on the counter. “Got an office I can borrow for a few hours?”
It wasn’t an office, but the back storage room had a chair and a desk, crammed behind the boxes of toilet paper and cases of Bud Lite, and that was good enough for me. I set up my phone as a wireless hotspot, connected my laptop, and got to work.
For the next four hours I was a phone-calling machine. I looked up each client from the meeting invite and called them directly, introducing myself as the First Bank of Austin’s primary cryptocurrency adviser and apologizing for missing the presentation that morning. One by one I walked them through the benefits of cryptocurrency, even to the point of explaining what a blockchain was at its most basic level. I answered questions about cryptography and hash rates, difficult levels and block rewards. I reassured them of their portfolio. I gave examples of different exposure levels, with the risks and rewards of varying altcoins.
I was charismatic. I was intelligent. I was a goddamn star. I knocked it out of the park with each potential client, and could hear the excitement and relief in their voices.
I hung up with the last client and slumped back on my chair just as the cashier knocked on the door to warn me that I had to leave before the manager showed up. I gathered my things and asked, “Hey, do y’all sell champagne?”
