Chapter 25 Evil Plan
Evil Plan
BILLIE
“I didn’t know brainstorming sessions came with reposado.”
Watching Mollie sip her paloma, I grin. “Since y’all won’t let me pay you for your expertise—”
“Why would we?” Ava takes a seat at my kitchen table. “We’re family. This is delicious, by the way.”
I made a batch of palomas earlier, figuring it’d be a fun twist on the margaritas we had at the shower.
To make a paloma, you mix tequila with some grapefruit juice and a squeeze or two of lime.
Then I top it all off with Topo Chico, a sparkling water staple here in Texas, and serve it with a salted rim.
The resulting cocktail is boozy, not too sweet, and deliciously refreshing.
“And this is what family does. We help make each other’s dreams come true.” Sally turns from the sink, where she’s been squeezing an extra lime into her cocktail. “Did you really prepare a sales deck and everything?”
She motions to the thick packet of paper in the middle of the table.
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and nod. “If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right. Full transparency, I didn’t know what the hell a deck was until Beck told me I needed one.”
Bless him, my brother patiently walked me through the process of creating a presentation deck in PowerPoint.
Lucky for me, my brother got tons of experience making decks thanks to his entrepreneurial endeavors in the hospitality space.
It took me two weeks and more tears than I care to admit to draft my own, but I finally had thirty slides outlining my concept: an on-site animal therapy program at the ranch that caters to children and adults of all ages.
The program would employ handlers, social workers, and therapists, plus an administrative professional and a community liaison.
Beck holds up his glass. “You need real ammo if you’re gonna convince Dale Wallace to let you quit your job. Just helping you cover your bases, B.”
“I appreciate that. Really, I appreciate all y’all lending a hand.” Shit, now I’m getting emotional. “I mean, look. There’s so many of us we can’t even fit at my table.”
Ryder gives me a soft smile. “You’re really surprised by that?”
“We love you, honey,” Wheeler says. “They say it takes a village to raise a kid. I say it takes a village to create a life. I’m honored to be part of your story.”
Eight people showed up tonight.
Eight.
The girls—Mollie, Wheeler, Sally, and Ava—plus Ryder, Beck, Tate, and Duke. Mack and Nash are out of town, so they couldn’t make it.
Colt is notably absent. He never replied to my texts inviting him over. He never called me back either.
We’ve seen each other in passing on the ranch. Ryder came over for Sunday supper, and we shared with my family that we were ‘an item,’ as Mom adorably put it.
She was thrilled. Dad couldn’t stop smiling.
Really, everyone was thrilled. With the exception of Colt, who didn’t even show up. He didn’t show up to Sunday supper the week before that either. I swear he found out Ryder was coming and faked sick the first time, saying he and Dean were hit by a nasty virus.
The second time, he didn’t even bother to give an excuse.
I was hoping to make some headway with my older brother during Ryder’s visit. But Colt apparently refuses to acknowledge that we exist, much less that we’re dating.
Ryder keeps reminding me that we need to be patient. I know he’s right, but I still feel like I’m banging my head against a wall. Colt’s always been a pretty even-keeled guy. It takes a lot to ruffle his feathers, but when they’re ruffled—Lord, watch out.
“So, let’s do some prep work here before you talk to your folks.” Duke picks up the deck and opens it, turning to the first page. “Tell me your vision for the program. Where’d you come up with the idea? Why does it appeal to you? And where do you see yourself fitting into all of it?”
My lips twitch. “Tell me you’re an entrepreneur without telling me you’re an entrepreneur.”
Duke likes the compliment, grinning as he wags his brows. “Only wanted to do something different my whole life. It’s a ride, Billie. One I think you’re gonna love.”
“Agreed,” Mollie says. “The road to success can be a lot longer and lonelier than you thought possible. But the satisfaction of finding success, knowing you deserve every minute of it because you persevered? Because no matter how hard it got, you never quit, never stopped believing that you were doing the right thing?” Her eyes shine in the light hanging over the table. “It’s pure fucking magic, Billie.”
A swell of joy fills me. Joy and determination.
I meet eyes with Ryder again. He gives me a tiny nod. Go on with your bad self, darlin’.
Taking another deep breath, I begin.
“The people who know me best joke that I was born with a fifth of tequila in one hand and reins in the other. Ranching is literally in my blood—I don’t need to tell y’all our property has been in my family for generations.
Six, to be exact. Growing up, I always dreamed about what my role in our family’s legacy would be.
Would I be foreman like my dad? A trainer like Mom’s cousin Randy?
Or would I develop different parts of the land the way y’all have done at Lucky River Ranch? ”
Duke nods. “Lots of possibilities.”
“Right. So I pictured myself in this very integral, physical, management-type role. I thought it’d be a natural fit because I could ride like nobody’s business, I did well in school, and I was relatively outgoing.”
“‘Relatively outgoing,’” Ryder says with a scoff. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Beck laughs. “I believe the term her teachers used was ‘spirited.’ Or ‘giant pain in the ass,’ depending on the day.”
“Yup.” I smile proudly. “Point being, I saw my older brothers launching these exciting careers on the ranch, and I thought I was next in line. Only when it was my turn, Dad brought me inside his office and offered me a job as the ranch’s new bookkeeper.”
“A natural fit,” Mollie says with a roll of her eyes.
“The idea came from a good place. But—and this is a theme that’s come up a lot recently—it was a misguided choice.
My parents have old-fashioned ideas about right and wrong and what a woman’s place should be in our world.
Anyway.” I hold up my hands. “Long story short, my role as accountant has not been a great fit for me. I miss being outdoors. Being with the animals and kids and around other people. I’ve been stuck inside for years now, and it’s made me realize how much happier I was when I was on horseback training to race. It calmed me. Helped clear my head.”
Wheeler snaps her fingers. “Bingo. I see where this is going. I think you really home in on this point—that you’ve experienced firsthand the benefits of time spent outdoors with animals.”
“Yes. Exactly. And while our family’s very much involved in the community here in Hartsville, I think we’re not nearly involved enough with the younger population.
My family has all these animals—literally, we have multiple stables of horses alone—but we’re not doing a great job of sharing that bounty with people who don’t have access to that kind of thing.
An animal therapy program fills that gap. ”
“I have chills.” Mollie holds up her arm, which is covered in goose bumps. “I think that’s brilliant. Playing devil’s advocate, though—how much is this gonna cost? Won’t having all these random people on the ranch interrupt operations?”
Grabbing the deck from Duke, I flip to the page printed with a map of my family’s property. “We’d designate one of the barns as our therapy headquarters. I had a great call with the guidance counselor at Dean’s elementary school earlier this week—”
“Yeah you did.” Sally holds up her hand.
I give her the high five she’s looking for.
“She actually worked at a program like this back in Wyoming, where she’s from, so she had some really solid ideas in terms of how we can set things up.
I’ll create an LLC, which we can then turn into a nonprofit.
That allows us to focus on the community impact piece of the puzzle.
The program wouldn’t be a huge money maker, but it would allow the Wallace family to put their name on a program that directly impacts people’s lives. ”
Ava shakes her head and smiles. “That’s beautiful. Can Junie, Ella, and I volunteer once or twice a week?”
“Only if I get to volunteer too,” Sally replies. “I’d gladly offer my veterinary services for free in exchange for hanging out with some kiddos. What kind of training would we need?”
I answer as many questions as I can. I’m pleasantly surprised to discover my confidence grows the deeper I dive into the program’s details.
I don’t know everything—for instance, when Beck wonders aloud if we should hire someone who deals exclusively with medical insurance companies, I tell him I like the idea but that I don’t know where we’d find someone with that particular skill set—but I do end the presentation feeling energized and affirmed.
Is this really happening?
Am I really about to burn down my life as I know it and take this giant leap into the unknown?
I wouldn’t say I’m without a safety net.
My family is awesome, and I know there’ll always be a place for me somewhere on the ranch.
But if I fail, I could very well end up back where I started.
I could also cost my family—my parents—a shit ton of money.
The program I’m proposing would be an investment in the future.
Our future, and the future of the community.
But it’d be exactly that: an investment. Meaning the payoff wouldn’t be immediate.
It might not come at all.
“I know it feels like a huge, huge step,” Mollie says, reading my thoughts.
“But if you don’t take that step, you’re always going to wonder ‘what if?’ Like, what if this is what you were meant to do all along?
What if the whole accounting job fail was part of that?
Maybe it was the universe’s way of forcing you to pivot. ”
“Forcing you to choose yourself over everybody else,” Ava says, and the table nods in agreement.
Sally slides over in her chair a little and motions for me to sit beside her.
I rest a single butt cheek on the chair and sigh.
“I hear what you’re saying. And I think—I have a feeling my parents will be open to the idea of the program.
But the thought of telling my dad that he has to find another accountant makes me want to vomit. ”
“Do you feel guilty about quitting?” Duke asks.
I tilt my head back and forth. “Yes and no. I know it’s the right move for me.”
Ava looks me in the eye. “You have to be selfish about these things, Billie. I know that might sound bad, but it’s true. If you’re not putting yourself first in your career—heck, in your life—then you’re never going to be happy.”
“Totally agree,” Wheeler says. “Opinions are like assholes: everyone has them.”
“Always such a lady, Blue,” Ryder replies with a grin.
“And by always, you mean never. But as I was saying, everyone’s going to have an opinion about what you should do.
The only opinion that matters, though, is yours.
You’re the one who has to decide what you want to do, and then you have to go out and do that.
You owe it to yourself. To the people you love.
Think about it this way: You being happy is going to help your family and your ranch thrive.
Sure, your parents might have to go through the hassle of hiring a new accountant.
But that’s much less of an imposition than having to watch their daughter be absolutely miserable. ”
Ava nods. “I think all the time about what my choices teach my girls. I can tell them until I’m blue in the face that being a people pleaser is gonna lead you down a road to nowhere.
But if I’m not actually, actively choosing myself on a daily basis, then they’re not going to choose themselves either. ”
I catch Ryder looking at me, his blue eyes soft and full.
He’s thinking about our kids. Because we’re out of our minds and we’ve already talked about that shit, and now I’m thinking about our kids too.
Specifically any daughters we have. I don’t want them to ever feel trapped or suffocated the way I have in my life. I want to show them that getting in the dirt and loving animals with your whole heart, that daring to be different, is where it’s at.
It’s okay to get your dress wrinkled.
Hell, it’s okay if you ditch the dress altogether.
“I love that idea,” I reply. “And I certainly agree with it. At the same time, I think part of the issue I’m having is also how hard it is for me to let go of the image of the perfect daughter and sister and woman I always thought I’d be.
Like, it’s hard to accept that I’m not that perfect person.
I’m way messier, and while there’s something really freeing about that, it’s also super uncomfortable at the same time. ”
“Ooopf.” Sally puts a hand over her heart. “I feel that in my soul. I always wanted to be the perfect daughter too. I tried so hard to make myself fit inside that box.”
My heart palpitates. “Yes. But turns out, that’s a very small box.”
“At the end of the day, I think we all just want our parents to be happy,” Mollie adds.
“And as kids without fully developed prefrontal cortexes—cortexi? Not sure what the plural there would be. Whatever the case, as kids, we tend to think that if we’re perfect, if we never annoy our parents and only make them proud, then we can make them happy.
But now that I’m a parent myself, I’m realizing that my parents’ happiness was never about me.
It’s on them to figure that out. Just like it’s on me to figure out my own version of peace, whatever that looks like. ”
I nod, letting the words sink in. “So we have to throw that perfect daughter shit out the window and love who we actually are instead.”
I haven’t had nightmares in over a week now. I wonder if that’s because I’m formulating a new plan—a viable, thrilling one—for my future. First, I acted on my feelings for Ryder. And now I’m acting on making big changes in my career.
There’s finally air in the proverbial room. I’m not suffocating anymore, and it feels glorious.
“Yes!” Ava beams. “There’s our girl.”
But I’m not ready to let my parents down.
Maybe I’ll never be ready. Maybe I just have to decide I’m ready and…go for it.
At this point, I have no choice, do I? Everything inside me is screaming, telling me to be the hero of my own damn story.