by Nicole Helm
“Why? So you can get what you really want? Someone to haul off and hit you so you can go cry to my mother and make us the villains?”
“You don’t know me, boy.”
“Ditto.”
“You ain’t got no right to step between us like this.”
“Last I checked Mom was still moving up the wedding, still marrying you.” Shane allowed himself a small, victorious smile. “That hasn’t changed . . . has it?”
“No.”
“But you’re worried.”
“Like hell I am.”
Shane shrugged lazily, more than a little gratified Ben’s formerly lackadaisical posture was now ramrod straight, that “screw you” curve to his mouth a flat line. “First time you’ve come at me directly. I’ve got to assume it’s because you’re worried about something.”
“Not worried. Trying to give your mother what she wants, what she deserves. Unlike her ungrateful kids.”
“She loves us too, you know. If you’re not careful, you’ll push her too far.”
Ben seemed to consider that, and Shane refused to give him credit for having the sense to do so.
“Well, boss, guess I’ll go shovel your shit then,” Ben said, that flat line of his mouth turning into a cocky smile. He tipped his hat and moseyed himself back to the four-wheeler he’d driven up in.
Shane scowled after him because he had the sneaking suspicion he’d played his hand a little too clearly. If Ben actually started doing the work he was supposed to do around the ranch, without any new information about Ben’s past coming to light, what argument could Shane pose then?
Chapter Six
Cora vacillated between furious and devastated, and just about a hundred emotions in between. Her sweet, obnoxious, pain in the ass, hurt, and confused little boy had thrown a basketball at a coach’s head.
He had gotten himself not just kicked out of basketball camp, but banned from any further activities with the Benson Athletic Association. Banned. Her sweet little baby.
She wanted to cry and yell and pound the steering wheel, and she simply didn’t have the time. She had to focus on driving to the bakery and figuring out what she was going to do with Micah once she got there.
She knew Emily, the woman who ran Piece of Cake, somewhat. Cora had gotten involved in Brandon’s chamber of commerce as a representative of Mile High Weddings, and there were a few women in the group, including Emily. It had been nice to be in a meeting where her voice was considered equal to all the rest.
But having a social life or even just occasional friendly get-togethers with businesswomen in town was nearly impossible these days, and looked to be heading toward totally impossible.
“Why can’t you just drop me off at home?” Micah whined, slapping his feet against the dash.
Cora reached over and pushed his feet back onto the floorboard.
“Other than the fact that you’re clearly not responsible enough to be left on your own, since you threw a basketball at an instructor.”
“It’s basketball camp.”
“Micah Zander Preston.”
“It was an accident. He was being a dick.”
“It can’t be both, and I don’t care! You don’t hurt people. You don’t . . .” She had to stop herself, because her voice was about to break and the tears were about to fall. This couldn’t be the only interaction they had any more. Crying and anger.
She pulled into one of the spaces in front of Piece of Cake. She stared hard at the pretty brick building, the painting on the big storefront window. A giant cupcake with a smile.
Cora breathed, staring at the maniacal cupcake smile, willing herself to find some calm. Micah was acting out, and she needed to be the calm one.
“You will go inside with me. You will sit in the corner. You will not make a noise. You will endure however long this takes, and then, when we get home, we will have a calm, reasonable discussion about your behavior, and the natural consequences of that behavior.”
“Are you going to make me see Dr. Grove again?” he asked, wrinkling his nose, clearly catching on to the fact that she was using some of Dr. Grove’s buzzwords.
“Eventually.” Cora took a second to be proud of herself. Yes, inside she was a wreck, but outside she was doing a fair job of being calm and yet firm with Micah. “How soon and how many times will depend on how that discussion goes.”
He gave a disgusted, patently teenage sigh.
“One wrong move, mister, and we will camp out on her office stairs so you can speak to her first thing in the morning.” And, ugh, now she sounded like her mother. The mother who’d only found fault with her, over and over again.
Though more tears threatened, Cora blinked them back. “I’m so angry with you, Micah, but I love you, baby. That’s why I’m mad. I know you. . . . You’re better than this. I know you are.”
Some of that sullen teenage mulishness turned into something softer, more hurt. Cora didn’t have the first clue if she was doing this right, but she wouldn’t let her kid think she thought he was a bad kid.
“Let’s go.” She pushed out of the car, somewhat gratified when Micah followed without any more complaints. Though his sighs were loud enough to be heard down the block, he did as he was told when they entered the bakery. He went to a little table in the corner, parked himself in a chair, and looked down at his shoes.
“Hi, Cora,” Emily greeted, coming out from behind her prettily decorated counter. The interior looked like a mix between some French bakery and some farm-y Instagram creation—all gingham and wildflowers.
“Hi, Emily. I guess Deb isn’t here yet?”
Emily nodded out the window. “Here she comes. I don’t suppose you have any more weddings lined up aside from this one?” Emily asked hopefully.
Cora didn’t have to ask to know Emily’s bakery was struggling. Every business in Gracely was struggling. Except Annie’s Chainsaw Repair & Used Furniture.
The door opened, and Deb swept in, a big smile on her face. “Oh, I just can’t help grinning every time I step inside, Em. Who knew those tea parties you used to have with Lou and Molly would give way to this?”
Emily grinned. “And who knew I’d be baking your wedding cake one day. I never thought . . .” Emily trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut.
“It’s okay. I never thought I’d marry again either. Owen was the love of my life. But, the wonderful thing about life is it never fails to surprise you with something you thought long gone.” She turned to glance at Cora. “And this little lady is working miracles to give me my dream wedding.”
“Well, you deserve it, Mrs. T,” Emily said emphatically. “I’ve picked a few designs I think you’ll love. We can schedule a tasting whenever Ben’s available too.”
“See, not everyone is against Ben,” Deb said, nodding toward Cora.
“Is Shane still giving you trouble?” Emily rolled her eyes. “Men are idiots. Especially Tyler men. No offense.”
“It’s imprinted in their DNA,” Deb said with a laugh. “Now, let’s see these designs.” She moved toward a table, then seemed to notice Micah and stopped short. “Who’s that?” she mouthed.
Cora stepped toward Micah. “Deb, this is my son, Micah. Micah, this is Emily and Deb. You can say hello.”
He grumbled something close to hello.
“His camp . . . unexpectedly ended early today, so he’s going to be my little helper.” Cora smiled thinly, and Deb didn’t push it. She nodded and smiled and slid into a chair at a table that looked like the surface of a log.
Emily scooted into the chair next to Deb with a giant binder, and Cora tried to find some kind of focus.
“I figured you’d want something traditional, Mrs. T,” Emily was saying, flipping through plastic pages of picture after picture. “Maybe a little rustic.”
“I like rustic. I want everything to fit in at the ranch.”
Cora knew she had to earn her keep, which meant focusing on cakes not on her son kicking his feet against the floor
in the corner. “Will the amount of people affect what designs you can do?”
Emily started talking logistics and sheet cakes, and Cora forced herself to take notes. To focus and do her job.
Eventually Micah scuffled over. “Can I go to the bathroom?”
Emily pointed to the back. “It’s right back there, sweetheart.” She smiled broadly.
Micah muttered a half-hearted thanks, which was more politeness than Cora usually got out of him. He trudged away.
“So, he got kicked out, huh?” Deb asked.
Cora startled. “Oh.” But Deb looked sympathetic instead of accusatory or judgy. “Yeah, he did.”
“I couldn’t keep Boone in a camp, class, or court-ordered community service to save my life.”
Cora couldn’t believe Deb hadn’t always had complete control of her family, even if they were trouble. Still, it was nice to hear. It was nice, for once in her life, to have someone who’d been there. Cora and Lilly had raised Micah without having much of a clue as to what they were doing. Mom had hightailed it out of their lives the minute she’d found a husband. Right before she told Cora she’d be better off getting rid of her baby than ever trying to raise it.
Cora straightened a little bit. Micah was a challenge, but she wasn’t done trying yet. She’d brought that boy into this world, and she’d do her damnedest to make him into a good man.
“We shouldn’t be talking about . . . Our meeting is about cake.” She tapped Emily’s binder. “Maybe Emily can copy a few of the pictures of what you like, and you can keep them to make your decision.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“I want the one that looks like aspen wood, with the mountain silhouettes. If reception size becomes an issue, we’ll talk sheet cake.” Deb clapped her hands together. “Decision made. Now let’s help you with your problem. You bring that boy out to the ranch.”
Cora blinked. “What?”
“He needs some fresh air and some responsibility. You bring him out to the ranch.”
“Oh, but . . . I mean, he wanted to do the basketball camp. He loved basketball! I wasn’t forcing him.”
“Of course not, but he’s clearly changed his mind about something. If he’s anything like my boy was, there’s no going back.”
Banned. “No, there isn’t. But . . . He helps out at Mile High. I thought . . . It’s so beautiful up there, and active. I thought he’d love the hiking and rock climbing and all that. It’s healing.... It can be healing.” She felt healed. Not quite the same way Lilly did, but this was still . . . She was a new person, becoming a better, stronger person. Gracely had to have something to do with that.
“Of course, Cora. The land is the truth. It’s why people believe in this Gracely legend. I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who can’t get a little healing from the land, but mostly it’s just a little space to heal themselves. That’s fine for adults, but a sullen boy with ghosts in his eyes needs to feel responsible for something. He needs to feel big instead of small. That’s where the animals come in. He needs a ranch. He needs horses and hard work. Mark my words.”
“I don’t . . .”
“You bring him out tomorrow morning, and I’ll have Shane and Gavin work up some chores for him.”
“Oh, but . . .”
“Tomorrow is your day off, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“You can supervise, see if you’d be comfortable leaving the boy with us a few hours here and there. If not, no hard feelings. But give it a chance.” Deb reached across the table and patted Cora’s arm. “I know a thing or two about raising boys. They drive me crazy, and I’d throttle all of ’em eight ways till Sunday about now, but they’re fine, good men.”
Emily clucked her tongue. “You might as well just agree. She won’t take no for an answer.”
“Oh, now,” Deb said, swatting Emily fondly on the arm.
Micah shuffled out of the bathroom, still sullen, shoulders slumped, and he just wouldn’t talk to her. Even that session with Dr. Grove the other day hadn’t been helpful, at least not short-term.
Maybe Deb was right.
“You bring him out at six,” Deb said, a little overloud, and Cora had to bite back a laugh as Micah’s mouth dropped.
“Oh, I thought ranchers started work at sunrise,” Cora said brightly.
Micah’s jaw dropped farther, and Cora stifled a giggle as Emily covered her smiling mouth with her hand to hide it.
“We’ll give him a break on that since you’ll be the one driving him over.” Deb looked over Cora’s shoulder to Micah, who was standing halfway between their table and his seat in the corner. “Maybe next week he can start at sunrise.”
“Mom?” Micah said, eyes wide and a note of panic in his voice.
It might make her a terrible mother, but all she could think at that note of panic was good. Maybe her son needed some panic.
And some hard work.
* * *
Shane yawned into his jug of water while Gavin muttered irritably at the slow drip of the coffee maker. No matter how many years passed, Shane still couldn’t stand the smell of coffee in the morning, but he forced himself to endure it, if only to remind himself he wasn’t twelve anymore.
“Good. You’re up.”
Mom, dressed and alert, walked into the kitchen with that aura of determination in her eyes that never bade well for him.
Oh, Shane was not ready to fight about Donahue. He was a morning person by and large, but he needed a little time out in the fresh air before his brain truly started to engage enough to ward off whatever battle his mother was about to wage.
“I need a favor from you boys.” She glanced from Gavin to Shane as if considering before her gaze focused on Shane. “Mostly you.”
“Mom—”
“Before you start yapping about the wedding or Ben, this doesn’t have anything to do with either.”
“How could that possibly be?” Gavin asked grumpily.
Mom leveled him with a cool look, but then returned her focus to Shane. “I need you to put a young boy to work. A little grunt work, but some stuff with the horses too.”
“What young boy?”
“Cora’s son. Got himself into a bit of trouble, and Cora puts on a brave face, but I can tell she’s worried. I told her nothing better for a troubled boy than some ranch work.”
“Who the heck is Cora?” Gavin asked.
“The wedding planner,” Shane muttered. “What kind of trouble are you talking here?”
Mom waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It might matter.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
Shane wanted to groan. His mother was always so bound and determined to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. To help even when they had a million problems right here. It never failed that he was trying to do one thing—like, say, save his mother from making the biggest mistake of her life—and she would come out of nowhere with some new thing.
“We don’t know anything about kids.”
“He doesn’t,” Mom said, gesturing toward Gavin. “But you were just as much a part of raising the three younger ones as I was.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s more than true. Now, stop arguing. They should be here any minute. Follow me.”
Shane knew there was no point in arguing. He’d never sway his mother’s opinion on both this and the wedding. Stopping the wedding was more important.
Besides, this means you’ll get to see more of Cora.
Which was not something he wanted. Or didn’t want. He was totally ambivalent about seeing more of Cora. Sure he was.
“The boy needs some hard work, a little horse time. God knows that’s the only thing that kept your brother out of jail,” Mom said, all but marching down the hall toward the front door.
“That we know of,” Gavin offered, trailing behind.
“Ha ha. Now, Cora’s a little worried about leaving him with near strangers, so she’ll be tagging along to
day. Just give the boy things to do, let him get attached to the horses. If you see a spark of interest in anything, nurture it. I’m sure it’ll ease Cora’s mind.”
“What do you care about your wedding planner’s mind?” Gavin asked, then shook his head as they reached the door. “Never mind. I’ll never understand why you have to swoop in and save everyone.”
“I guess I could ask you the same question. Unless you magically stopped checking in on Lou every day,” Mom said in a sing-songy voice, opening the door to a pretty summer morning.
“That’s not everyone,” Gavin grumbled.
Mom grinned at Shane as they stepped out onto the porch. In the distance, Shane spotted what he assumed was the shiny top of Cora’s car. Dawn was just lighting up the ranch. His favorite time of day.
That was the odd jumpy feeling in his gut. Certainly not anticipation.
Cora’s car came to a stop at the end of the drive, and she popped out of the driver’s seat. Instead of her usual wedding planner business-wear, she was wearing jeans. The kind of jeans you didn’t see on a ranch. These were those skinny things that might as well have been made out of lace for as thin and formfitting as they were. She bent over to grab something from inside the car, and, yes, very . . . formfitting.
“Did you just check out my wedding planner?”
Shane jolted. “What? No! Gross, Mom.”
Gavin snorted a laugh.
“You did. You just checked her out. Oh, that’s funny.”
“Why is that funny?” Shane demanded.
“She’s a sweet girl. I like her.”
“Fantastic. What does that have to do with me?”
“Oh, nothing. I guess.” Mom started walking toward the car.
“What do you mean you guess?”
“My, you’re touchy this morning.” Mom waved enthusiastically as Cora walked toward them, a very grumpy-looking boy trudging behind her.
“Morning, Deb.”
“Morning, Cora. Micah. So what do you think, boy? Seen anything like this before?”
The boy’s blue eyes that matched his mother’s darted around, and he shrugged. “Guess not.”
“Shane. Gavin. This is your new coworker.”
