by Nicole Helm
“What is taking so long? I’m not going in there by myself, that’s for sure.”
“We just have to stick to the plan, and everything will be fine.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “The plan sucks. The only plan I’m interested in is one where we beat Ben black-and-blue and leave him to rot in the mountains.”
“What, so Mom can insist on going to find him?”
“Oh, I can leave him in a place where no one can find him,” Gavin said with a little too much glee.
Shane shook his head, walking down the hall feeling like he was heading for the electric chair. “We have to be smart about this. Careful. Mom’s not stupid.”
“Except when it comes to this dipshit,” Gavin muttered.
“Yeah, well . . .”
They stepped into the dining room. Shane’s youngest sister, Lindsay, was setting the table. Molly was probably in the kitchen with Mom and Grandma helping with food.
Lindsay’s blue eyes darted to the doorway to the kitchen, then back to Gavin and Shane. “Gossip time,” she whispered. “Mom’s moving up the date of the wedding.”
“What?” Shane demanded.
“Shh,” Lindsay admonished. “She’s calling the wedding planner out tomorrow to see the soonest possible date they can have the wedding of her dreams. That’s what she’s going to announce, and the reason I’m telling you right now is so you don’t tackle Ben over the dinner table.”
“Tackling sounds like a plan,” Gavin offered.
“No, Gavin,” Shane said evenly, even though the announcement sparked his temper. “You know we can’t do that. We remain calm, we agree with whatever she says, and then we get serious about proving that man is a no good, useless piece of—”
“Evening, gentlemen,” Ben greeted cheerfully, stepping into the dining room from behind them. “Evening, Lindsay,” he offered, all smiles and charm at Lindsay’s wide-eyed look and all-too-obvious blush at the thought of Ben’s possibly overhearing them.
Shane didn’t particularly care. He wasn’t big on hiding his judgment of lazy assholes who acted like they owned the place when they should be grateful they had a job at all. But for tonight, for his long-term goal, he’d try to force some of that judgment away.
Shane struggled with a polite smile. “Evening, Donahue. Glad you could join us.”
“Well, it is a family dinner,” he replied with a wink.
As if he belonged. Which was on purpose. He was trying to get under Shane’s and Gavin’s skin. Trying to provoke a fight, because that would get him even better on Mom’s side.
Shane wouldn’t fall for it, and he nudged his brother to remind Gavin not to fall for it either.
Molly and Grandma came out from the kitchen area, Molly carrying a tray of ham. She smiled at Shane and Gavin, and Shane was quite certain Ben had no idea the smile she gave him was considerably dimmer in comparison.
“Hey, guys. Have a seat. Dinner is ready.”
Grandma settled herself in her usual chair next to Mom’s place at the head of the table. Before Shane could take his usual seat across from Grandma, Ben slid in.
It was Gavin’s turn to give Shane a little nudge, and Shane forced the muscles in his jaw to relax. Mom appeared with another tray carrying bowls of potatoes, green beans, and rolls as Shane took the seat next to Grandma, usurping Molly’s usual spot.
Molly frowned at him, so he nodded toward the seat next to Ben. Molly might not like Ben either, but she wasn’t liable to haul off and punch him.
Shane wasn’t so sure he could keep his fists to himself, and he knew he couldn’t trust Gavin to.
“What’s with the big-ass ham, Mom?” Gavin asked, taking the seat next to Shane.
“Do not swear at my table, Gavin Louis. Besides, what’s wrong with ham?”
“Nothing is wrong with ham. It’s just usually ham means bad news,” Gavin replied.
“But turkey is worse. Turkey means someone is dead or about to croak,” Lindsay offered with a grin.
Mom shook her head and began to pass food around the table. “You all are delusional. There is no hierarchy of meat and what it means.”
“Meatloaf is the worst. It means Mom’s about to give us more work than any one person can handle,” Molly said, her smile softer than Lindsay’s, but no less pleased with herself.
“You lot can always handle more work,” Mom said firmly. “Now, isn’t this nice, having everyone home for dinner?”
There was an uncomfortable silence, considering everyone wasn’t home, not with Boone absent, but marinating in that wouldn’t do any good.
“Gav and I got the whole herd separated today. We’ll be moving the heifers to the south pasture first thing tomorrow. Well . . .” Shane slid his most innocent look at Ben. “If we’ve got the fencing all mended.”
Shane watched for it, and was moderately rewarded when Ben tensed. Making sure that particular fence was ready had been Ben’s job today, and one thing Ben was never any good about was getting a job done in time.
In fact Shane had been considering firing Ben, at least before the bastard had started cozying up to Mom. It was just another thing in a long line of questionable timing that made Shane hate this.
“Let’s not talk ranch tonight,” Mom said with a big smile. She reached over and took Ben’s hand in hers. Whatever tension Shane had managed to put in Ben relaxed with Mom’s touch.
Shane resisted the impulse to scowl.
“I’m going to need all of you to really step in and help with this wedding, because Ben and I simply can’t wait until Christmas. I’m going to talk to Cora tomorrow, but we’re going to shoot for September now.”
An uneasy silence fell over the dining room table. It wasn’t the first time an announcement in this family had been met with that. When Boone had informed them he was joining the rodeo, when Molly had informed them she’d eloped . . . and then a few months ago moving home and getting divorced. When Lindsay had told everyone quite proudly she’d gotten a scholarship for art.
Those had all felt like . . . fixable things. Youthful indiscretions. Things a person learned from, and he or she would always have the Tyler ranch to come home to if it didn’t work out.
But Mom’s marrying Ben was none of those things.
“At least she’s not pregnant,” Grandma offered into that silence.
“Mother,” Mom scolded, her cheeks turning a little bit pink.
“It was why you got married the first time,” Grandma returned, her gaze slowly turning to Shane.
The ham in Shane’s mouth suddenly turned into tasteless rubber, and Grandma cackled happily to herself. He really didn’t need to be reminded of the timing of his parents’ marriage and his own birth.
“Looking a little green there, Shane boy,” she said, all too pleased with herself.
But she was the only pleased one. As Shane glanced around the table he saw his brother’s furious face, Molly’s concerned one, Lindsay’s confused one. And they were all looking at him.
Because in the absence of Mom’s being the reasonable leader of this family, Shane had to be. He stood.
“I’m sorry, Mom. But none of us are comfortable with this.”
“Now, see here—” Ben began, but Mom held up a hand.
“I didn’t ask you to be comfortable,” she said calmly, staring right at Shane. “You are my children, whom I brought into this world and have cared for my entire life, never once stopping to mention when I was uncomfortable.” She glanced at Molly, who stared hard at her plate.
Shane knew Mom expected him to fold, to give in. She’d used the guilt—a fair use of it too—and it usually worked, but this was more than a disagreement over cows or money or even helping neighbors.
This was about his mother, and it was about the ranch, and he couldn’t back down on that.
“If you’re determined to do this,” Shane said evenly, borrowing one of his mother’s old tactics when her children disobeyed, “I can’t stand in your way, but I also won’t h
elp.”
“I see.” Mom looked around the table at all her children. “And you all feel this way?”
Gavin pushed his chair back and stood next to Shane. After a moment’s hesitation, so did Molly. Lindsay stared on, wide-eyed and unmoving.
“You may leave my table then,” Mom said coolly.
Shane could feel Gavin coil to argue, but that wouldn’t work. Not now. “Fair enough,” Shane said, nudging Gavin toward the door. Molly glanced at Lindsay, and then Mom, pained. But she didn’t say anything.
Shane followed them both out, and then they stood in the hall just staring at each other.
Molly was the first to speak, and she spoke directly to Shane. “Well, now what?”
He wished he had a clue, but he had to find one. And quick.
Chapter Three
Cora was running late, and she knew she shouldn’t beat herself up, but Lilly would never run late. Lilly was always on time and looked perfectly put together.
But you are not Lilly. No one is Lilly.
Cora pulled her car up to the Tyler house and looked at her face in the rearview mirror. Her mascara was smudged, and her lipstick had long been chewed off. She’d spent the morning forcing Micah to go to Dr. Grove’s office for a family therapy session since he didn’t want to go to basketball camp.
It hadn’t gone well. Micah had been stoic and unresponsive and a pain in her butt. She’d cried in front of him like she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to do anymore. She felt like such a failure.
“But you are not a failure,” she said to her own reflection. “You are a work in progress.” Her mantra, and it mostly made her feel a little better.
She wouldn’t have been late if she hadn’t spent too much time worrying over sticking Lilly with Micah when Lilly had both twins while her husband was leading an excursion.
Lilly had assured her it was fine, and that Skeet—Mile High’s old, grizzled receptionist—was great with the babies despite his rather gruff, scary outward appearance.
Cora hadn’t had a choice at that point. Leave or be super late. She’d left. Now, she was only two minutes late, which wasn’t too bad all things considered. She took approximately thirty seconds to fix up her makeup as best she could.
Once satisfied with her reflection, she slipped out of her car. She glanced around the expansive yard and the ranch. She didn’t see any sign of people, only cows and mountains and various machinery.
What must it be like to live somewhere so open and vast? She loved living in quaint little Gracely, and the view from the majestic mountains where Mile High was located was truly awe-inspiring. But something about the Tyler ranch touched her. It wasn’t just beautiful. It created this odd little pang inside of her.
Which was silly. She was a city girl through and through. She’d grown up in Denver, adjusted to small town life over the past few years, but she’d never know what to do with cattle and all this space.
It was still a fun fantasy to have. Made a bit more fun with the image of a man on a horse, a cowboy hat pulled low, sun shining down on him like a spotlight.
Shane Tyler might be a pain in his mother’s butt, like Micah was a pain in hers, but he sure was pretty to look at.
She shook her head and headed for the front door. The last thing she wanted today was another run-in with a disapproving son. Besides, she didn’t want to be any later than she already was.
She knocked on the door, and Deb answered quickly. She greeted Cora with a broad grin. “Cora. Right on time, sweetheart. Come on in.”
Cora opened her mouth to say she was not right on time. She was nearly five minutes late, but then she remembered she didn’t always have to point out her flaws to everyone around her. A sad little coping mechanism she’d developed first under her mother, then under Stephen’s heavy hand. If she pointed out her flaws, she got to the punch first before anyone else could.
But she wasn’t that little girl anymore, and Deb was nice. So, Cora followed her into the living room. Much like the kitchen table they’d met at a few days ago, the living room was cozy and well kept. Everything looked polished and bright in the sun shining through big windows that looked out over the ranch and gorgeous mountains in the distance.
“I have a new challenge for you, Cora,” Deb said, taking a seat in a comfortable-looking chair.
Cora carefully sat herself on the edge of the couch, refusing to be intimidated by the word “challenge.”
“I know we were discussing Christmastime, or maybe even next spring, but I don’t want to wait that long. Ben and I were talking the other night about how short life is, and we’ve both lost a lot already. Why wait?”
“Well, all the things you wanted for the wedding, they take time and . . .”
“And money. Which I have plenty of. Our neighbor to the north, the Fairchilds, their granddaughters grew up with my kids. Lou has an adorable little flower farm and she has a florist business to go along with it. She’s recovering from a bit of an accident right now, but I talked to her about flowers, and she said she could do everything in a shorter time period.”
“Oh—okay, but—”
“And I don’t know if you know the owner of Piece of Cake?”
“Yes, Emily and I—”
“She’s Lou’s sister, used to date Gavin, in fact, and I’ve asked her if, for a fee, she’d be willing to move me up, and well, old family friends and all, she agreed.”
Cora felt her panic rising. What did Deb need her for if she’d already figured this all out? “That’s wonderful, but—”
“The dress might be the trickiest thing. My girls’ll be easy of course, but . . .” The spark in Deb’s eyes seemed to dim, the excitement disappearing from her face in the snap of a finger.
It was wrong to jump all over that hint at a problem, but Cora needed this job. “Deb, what’s wrong?”
The older woman swallowed. “Oh, the kids.” She waved a hand. “Might not have my girls as bridesmaids after all.”
“Of course you will.”
Deb shook her head. “Oh, Lindsay might come around, but Molly . . . Well, her and Shane always did take sides against me. I didn’t think Gavin’d give a rat’s ass, but he’s all bristly about it too. I never dreamed I’d do something like this and disappoint my kids, but they’re grown. I can’t live for them anymore.”
“They’ll come around. You’re such a good mom. I can see that just having been here twice. They’re trying to protect you. It’s sweet, but we’ll prove they don’t need to. They just have to get over this hump is all, but they will because . . .” Cora thought of her own mother. “Some mothers don’t do much of anything for their kids, and you are not like that.”
“Oh, I like you, Cora. You’re a sweet girl, and there’s some good grit under that sweetness.”
Grit. Cora had never considered herself as someone who had any grit. She liked that Deb thought so.
She pulled her portfolio from her bag to jot down a few notes. “Well. I’ll adjust the schedule. I think we could still make it all happen by end of September?”
“I can work with that.”
“And we’ll have those kids of yours throwing rice and doing jigs.”
Deb chuckled. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into there, sweetheart.”
“Maybe not,” Cora admitted. “I’ve only got one to deal with, and I’m not dealing very well.”
“You have a little one?”
“Not so little. Twelve going on . . . I don’t know. Surly adult.” At Deb’s shocked look, Cora smiled sheepishly. “I was a little on the young side when I had him.”
“Ah. I was a bit young myself when I had Shane.” She sighed, a wistful fondness in the sound. “That boy hasn’t given me an ounce of trouble since he was twelve. Well, until now.”
“Not an ounce? Mine is giving me nothing but these days.”
“Don’t feel bad, the other two boys raised enough hell for ten. And my girls have taken regularly to breaking
my heart.”
“So, what you’re saying is it never gets better?”
Deb laughed heartily. “Better and worse all at the same time.” Deb’s laugh died on a sigh. “I don’t know how to get through to them. After all these years, I don’t know how to get my kids to be happy for me. I’ve got this handsome young man who all but worships the ground I walk on after twenty years of doing all this on my own. Ben Donahue might not be the best man in the world, but he’s a good man to me.”
“Then, we will find a way.” If Cora had to face down five disapproving adult children to do it, well, she would. She was taking it as a personal mission.
* * *
“She couldn’t do it without the wedding planner. She’d have to put it off again until she found a new one,” Gavin suggested.
Shane stared at the wedding planner’s car as he and Gavin stood outside the barn, taking a break and drinking some water. That tiny compact car had been sitting in the drive in front of the house for well over an hour. Gavin had been grousing about not letting this happen for just as long, and Shane . . .
Well, he was frustrated beyond belief by a problem that seemed to have no solution. “The wedding planner isn’t the problem. Ben Donahue is the problem.”
“But you said so yourself, we go after him, that only makes Mom latch on harder.”
“Hence, stuck between a rock and a hard place.” But Shane was a problem solver. He just needed to keep looking at this from all angles until he found one. Giving up was not an option.
“We have to do something. I swear to God she put something in the coffee this morning. Maybe not poison, but I’m telling you.”
Shane slid a skeptical look at his brother.
Gavin held up his hands. “It tasted different.”
“You’re beyond paranoid.”
“Easy for you to say, you don’t drink coffee.”
The front door opened, and Mom and Cora stepped out onto the porch. They shared a brief hug that had Shane frowning. That was the problem with Gavin’s idea that they intercept the wedding planner. Mom befriended everyone, took everyone under her wing and made him or her feel good and welcome. They were too late to step in there since Mom had clearly already formed a friendship with Cora.
