by Snow, Nicole
He knows they didn’t go to the grave this afternoon to watch that little bean-pot-looking urn get placed in the ground. Only I did. The only soul on earth besides the attendant who watched him being interred.
“Oh, please! The hotel...that hovel?” Mom says, already marching toward the door. “Hell is a national hotel chain. Do you have any idea what the bleach in those sheets does to my skin?”
I try not to roll my eyes. If only we could blame even half her antics on the bedding.
“We’ll be in the lobby, Anna,” Dad tells me, catching up with her just in time to yank open the door.
I nod, swallowing the lump growing in my throat because I truly wish I didn’t have to go through this alone.
“Can I get you anything?” Sheridan asks once the door clicks shut, leaving just the two of us in his office. “Coffee? Soda? A glass of water?”
I shake my head, thankful it still moves. I feel stiff, frozen, and chock-full of dread. I’ve had three failed business adventures, mostly rentals I thought I could manage and turn a profit on.
How could I ever take on the complicated monstrosity Gramps turned into his empire? How could I ever do it justice?
A flipping oil company? I don’t even know the price at the pump today!
Mom might be right. I can’t.
And I’m kinda sorta panicking.
Mr. Sheridan slowly sinks back into his chair, eyeing me slowly. “Forgive me, Ms. Reed. I recently had back surgery, so I’m not moving very fast yet.”
I nod again. Then, because I should at least acknowledge he’d spoken, I say, “I hope you feel better soon. Gramps went through something like that maybe ten years back...he was practically doing cartwheels a year later.” God. I’m really out of my element here.
“Ah, I hope to be half that lucky. And you won’t be alone in this, let me assure you. Your grandfather was a careful man and a good planner. He left generous provisions for my services as long as you need them. Additionally, you’ll have the full support of his most trusted companion, who’s also listed in the will. Mr. Larkin will provide you with everything you could ever need.”
His...companion? Mr. Larkin? What the what?
I knew Gramps had an assistant around the house, of sorts, but...I’m drawing a total blank on the man’s name. Gramps never said much about him, only mentioned his helper a few times.
Someone who worked at the ranch, and sometimes dealt with company business. Probably an old Army buddy or something.
It’s a big place, but there’s not as much to manage as there used to be.
Gramps sold off his cattle and chickens years ago and rented the majority of his land, so his man simply filled in the gaps, did odd jobs he couldn’t keep up with in old age.
Honestly, I was glad he had someone there with him, living on the property. I wish I’d asked more, knew more, but whenever we’d talked, it was always about me. That’s what Gramps loved to talk about more than anything. Living vicariously, maybe.
To hear what I was doing, and when I was coming home.
We’d talk for hours, even when the visits I’ll always regret not making couldn’t happen.
Gramps heard it all.
Life. Dreams. Triumphs. Every good thing any loving grandfather wants to know about.
Well, I’m here now, and at least I’ve got help.
Sorta. An old attorney, an old companion, and an old horse.
Hopefully they don’t all die on me the same week.
I catch myself, shaking my head. What an awful, selfish thought to have. I hope it isn’t Mom’s craptacular attitude rubbing off.
Slowly, I plant my hands on the black dress covering my thighs and try to refocus on what Sheridan says.
“...need to live at the ranch for at least six months. I’ll be checking in with you regularly. Do you have any questions?”
Considering I hadn’t been listening to most of what he’d said, I should have a million, but I shake my head. I don’t want him to know what a failure I am at business, or today, following a simple conversation.
My shoulders slump. He probably already knows.
From what I gather, I have six months to either make it or break it here.
God only knows what’ll happen then. Or maybe Sheridan does, but right now, I don’t even ask because I don’t even want to know.
“As I said,” he continues, “Jonah has everything in perfect order down to the last T crossed. The board of directors will handle everything with North Earhart Oil. The company has a vast legal framework, so I won’t be as involved in that, but will be available to assist you with anything you don’t understand pertaining to your role in the founder’s seat.”
Heavy lies the crown, they say. Except, in this instance, the thought of even sitting in my grandfather’s seat before a gaggle of sharp-dressed executives makes my stomach twist.
I nod, swallowing hard, pretending it’ll be just dandy.
He leans back in his seat. “As I told your father earlier, his position with the company won’t change, and neither will his income. Jonah saw no need to modify his usual compensation.”
Fair. Dad barely does anything to warrant his six-figure salary, but I know my parents would be ten times as irate losing it.
Gramps inherited North Earhart Oil when it was small. His father was a wildcatter way back when, and the company had always been prosperous, but when the oil boom hit North Dakota with Gramps at the helm, North Earhart did exceptionally well. Practically the only thing about Gramps that Mom was extremely proud to talk about.
“I know this is a lot for you to take in. For someone as young as you to take on, but I’m here to help. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Just call.” A smile curves the edges of his lips. “Jonah was very specific about his wishes, and how they ought to be overseen. I gave him my solemn word I’d help ensure every detail gets executed to the letter of the law.”
I nod again. What else can I do? It’s sink or swim, and I can barely doggy paddle.
Still, I can’t let that show.
He pushes a pile of papers toward me. “I’ll need you to sign these, please. Two copies of what we discussed here today.”
I pick up a pen and sign my name mechanically next to the little red Sign Here stickers.
“Have you been out to the ranch yet?” he asks.
“No. As soon as I got the call, I packed up and drove straight here,” I say, signing the second copy. “I arrived yesterday and went straight to the funeral home. I stayed at the hotel last night, with the service today and then this meeting.”
He collects both copies. “I understand. Do you have a house key?”
“Absolutely.” Truly, it’s never left my keychain since the day Gramps gave it to me when I was twelve.
I don’t share that. To some, it’d be insignificant. To me, that key symbolized belonging somewhere.
“Would you like your copy, or do you want me to keep it?” Sheridan’s smile holds sympathy. “We can go over it again, in a few days, if you’d like, after it’s not such a shock to the system.”
I think of my parents, and until they’ve left, everything is safer out of their reach. “Go ahead and hang on to it. I’ll get my copy then.”
“Perfect. Before you leave, there’s one more thing...”
I look up, almost afraid. My fingers flex before reaching out to take the white envelope he’s holding.
“It’s from your grandfather. A personal message.”
Nodding, I close my eyes for a moment, and then draw a deep breath before unsealing the flap.
I can’t help but smile, even as tears sting my eyes like hornets at the sight of the tan Post-it note with JONAH REED printed across the top of it.
Gramps adored those little sticky notes. They were tucked inside every card, every gift he ever sent me.
I pull out the three-inch square slip of paper and blink back more tears at the familiar handwriting.
Bella, you followed your head to Cali
fornia.
I know who put those thoughts in your head, so this time, I want you to follow your heart.
Trust me.
Love, Gramps
The subtlety makes me grin. In my twenty-four years of life, I’ve never heard my grandfather say a bad word about my parents outright, even though the opposite was true for them.
He hadn’t this time, either, but his meaning shines through crystal clear. I can almost see his eyes twinkling and one winking at me.
“I trust he had something important to say?” Sheridan asks, maybe a little curious, but ever the professional.
“He did.” I slip the note back in the envelope and tuck that in my purse. “He just...he wanted to make sure I’d get through this. Guess he knew it was coming, sooner or later, if he had this will set up with you.”
Sheridan nods. “Well, then, I’ll ask one more time, any questions?”
I draw in a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs and settle deep inside me. “For now, nothing. We’re good.”
“Great. There are papers at the ranch that you’ll need to sign, too. Please return them at your convenience.” He hands me a business card. “Here are all my numbers. Office. Cell. Home. Call any time, Ms. Reed. Day or night.”
I watch as he stands again, takes his sweet time, and winces. Poor guy.
I won’t be calling him unless I absolutely have to. He needs to be home in bed resting, not dealing with this mess.
“Would you like me to call your parents back in? I could give you folks some privacy, or stay, if you’d like.”
“Not today, but thanks.” I stand. Not ever.
He’s already had enough of Mom’s outbursts for this lifetime.
He walks me to the door, and then through a front office to a small waiting room where my parents are sitting in red leather chairs. Mother snaps shut her compact mirror as we step in the room and stuffs it in her purse. She was more than a little put out over how private the funeral was.
I’m sure she was looking forward to showing the entire town of Dallas, North Dakota, what a wonderful life she’s had since leaving here decades ago.
Dad stands and crosses the room. “All set?”
“Yes,” I say, and then turn, holding out a hand to the lawyer. “Thanks again, Mr. Sheridan.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” he says, shaking my hand.
Dad bids him a curt farewell, and then the three of us walk out the door and into the sunshine.
And wind. Seems like that harsh, sudden wind is always blowing whenever it pleases in North Dakota, a permanent caress reminding everyone who and what created this landscape of hills and flats.
“You can follow us to the hotel,” Dad tells me.
I nod, walking to my car. It’s a souped up Jeep that Gramps bought for my high school graduation. We lived in Oregon then, and he’d insisted I’d need the four-wheel drive if I was going to be driving from California to Oregon all the time, and of course to North Dakota to see him.
It hurts that this is the first time the Jeep made a trip to North Dakota.
Stupid me. I kept thinking there was time.
Wrong. So wrong.
If only I’d known.
The hotel isn’t far, right on the edge of town. My parents are already standing by their rental car when I park.
“We’ll discuss this in our room like civilized people,” Mom says. No sense of irony whatsoever. “No need for busybodies overhearing our private business and running their mouths. This town never changes with its wretched gossip.”
My stomach keeps churning, and her attitude just makes it worse.
“I mean, what do we even have to discuss? I’m here to collect my stuff, check out, and head to the ranch. You’re welcome to join me. That’d be a better place to talk, anyway.”
“Absolutely not!” Mom’s eyes are huge, staring at me in disbelief. “That place was falling down years ago and must be in worse shape now. It can’t possibly be safe to live in, Annabelle.”
Falling down. Right.
Her definition: any place that doesn’t have its own hot cocoa bar and indoor waterfall.
I don’t say that, of course. There’s no use.
I’ve always known how she felt toward Gramps and his perfectly charming ranch, but let it go years ago when he asked me to. He said not to let her problems become mine.
Good advice then, and now.
A bout of hope fills me as I think about the place. Gramps won’t be there, but Edison will, and I can’t wait to see him again.
“Don’t tell me you’re serious?” Mother steps up, looking me over like she wants to check for some exotic fever.
“I’m going. Somebody needs to look after Edison.”
“That old horse was ready for the glue factory years ago,” Dad jokes grimly. I think.
Either way, it’s hardly the time.
Mom’s words were like water off a duck’s back, but Dad’s crassness strikes a chord. If I’d had any second thoughts about the will, about fulfilling my part by living at the ranch for the next six months, they’re gone.
“No way,” I say. “Edison deserves to live out the rest of his days at the ranch, and then he’ll be buried there. I’ll make sure of it.”
Thirty minutes later, after one more bout of them badgering me in the parking lot while I throw my suitcase in the back seat, I drive away from the hotel.
It’s hard, going against instinct, because I’ve always listened to my parents. Taken their advice, even in my misadventures, but this time? Forget. It.
This time, I’m following my own muse. Or maybe something more.
“Hear that, Gramps? Heart, not head. Just like you asked.” I smile at the sound of my own voice and steer the Jeep onto the highway, punching down on the accelerator so I get there just a little faster.
Want to read more? Get Accidental Knight HERE.
About Nicole Snow
Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.
Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty.
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More Books by Nicole
Stand Alone Novels
Accidental Hero
Accidental Romeo
Accidental Protector
Accidental Knight
Cinderella Undone
Man Enough
Surprise Daddy
Prince With Benefits
Marry Me Again
Love Scars
Recklessly His
Stepbrother UnSEALed
Stepbrother Charming
Heroes of Heart’s Edge Books
No Perfect Hero
No Good Doctor
Enguard Protectors Books
Still Not Over You
Still Not Into You
Still Not Yours
Still Not Love
Baby Fever Books
Baby Fever Bride
Baby Fever Promise
Baby Fever Secrets
Only Pretend Books
Fiance on Paper
One Night Bride
Grizzlies MC Books
Outlaw’s Kiss
Outlaw’s Obsession
Outlaw’s Bride
Outlaw’s Vow
Deadly Pistols MC Books
Never Love an Outlaw
Never Kiss an Outlaw
> Never Have an Outlaw’s Baby
Never Wed an Outlaw
Prairie Devils MC Books
Outlaw Kind of Love
Nomad Kind of Love
Savage Kind of Love
Wicked Kind of Love
Bitter Kind of Love
