Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
WYL
We enjoyed our usual early morning coffee and chat before class on Monday morning. It's weird because we talk at home before we drive to campus in our individual vehicles. But tradition is tradition.
“Are you sure you want me living on the ranch?” Rod wiggled his index finger back and forth between us. “Can you stand being around me all the time?”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re already together all the time, babe. And yes, I want you here, what with Christmas coming up.” My cheeks ached from the smile.
Rod grinned. “Good. Can you stick around after your last class? We’ll stop by my house after work and pack a few things. I need my stuff since we’re making the ranch my home.”
Happiness welled up inside me. “You bet I’ll hang around.” I have something more permanent in mind than merely moving a few things, but this isn't the right time or place to bring it up. I needed a more intimate setting.
The rest of the day flew by. After class, I studied in the lobby until Rod strolled out, ready to go. He took two weeks off to take care of me while I struggled through Walt’s death, so things stacked up. When the campus bell tower struck four, he closed his office. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
* * *
I visited the Bonner house only once, and then only saw the foyer and living room.
The actual house impressed me. Rod said his great-grandfather, Cornelius Bonner, built the house in the late 1800s.
Now registered as a state historic home, a Texas Historic plaque adorned a short pole near the street.
Rod showed me through the house. Lots of wood built-ins. Hardwood floors. A two-landing staircase led to the upstairs. Four bedrooms. A powder room downstairs under the stairway and a full bath upstairs. He said it included a full basement, but we didn’t go down.
After the tour, I gazed at a collection of photos on one wall in the foyer.
One showed the house during construction.
Although now surrounded by many homes, several from the same general period, the house was isolated when it was built.
Several other photos included individuals in the house's history.
Rod pointed to the two that appeared to be the oldest. “These are my great-grandparents, Cornelius and Hattie Bonner.
He is the one who built this home in 1865.
They had four children: Felix, Helen, Margaret, and Winston.
" He pointed to the next framed photo. "These are my grandparents, Winston and Dorothy Bonner.
He inherited this house and lived in it until he died in 1958.
My grandmother, always heavy, died in the early 1940s.
After she gave birth to my dad, she could no longer have children.
When Grandpa Winston died, Dad inherited this house.
" He pointed to the next photo. "My dad and mom. They died a couple of years ago.”
“Why aren’t you up on this wall of history?” I asked.
Rod shrugged. I grew up in this house, and when I moved back to Blackfield, I chose to live here instead of buying my own home. My sister Jean doesn’t want the place. At some point, I’ll need to decide what to do with it. “
“Your family has quite a history in Blackfield. I have a similar family history that I’ll share with you sometime. For now, what do you need me to do?”
“Why don’t you tackle the kitchen?” Rod pointed to the doorway.
“Check the refrigerator and the pantry, and box up anything we can use at the ranch. We can bag up and carry anything perishable we don’t take to the dumpster,” Rod said.
“I’ll be upstairs packing clothing and tossing toiletries in a box.
When you finish in the kitchen, you can help me carry any clothes I want to hang at the ranch.
“Got it. Kitchen.” I headed that way. Helping Rod pack to move to the ranch made my insides tremble. I found someone permanent in my life, and having him with me in my home on the ranch filled a missing piece of my life.
After packing and loading Rod’s belongings, we drove both vehicles to the ranch. As we arrived, two garage doors opened. I pulled into one garage, and Rod pulled into the other.
I hopped out of the Denali and raced around to Rod’s truck. “That is your spot. Remind me to give you a remote.” I loaded up and carried the first load in.
Rod followed a few minutes later with an armload. A knocking down the hall preceded his plea. “Why did you close your bedroom door? Open up! My hands are full.”
I poked my head out of the master bedroom at the end of the hall. “Down here.”
Rod lugged his full armload down the hall and paused at the doorway. “In here?”
I glanced up from my task of unpacking a duffel. “This is the master suite. Since we are the masters of Sterling Ranch now, and the only Sterlings, this is our room. It belonged to my parents. Impressive, huh?”
“Wow!” Rod dumped his armload on the bed. “California King with seating to each side. His-n-his closets. Ensuite with a double vanity. I’m guessing the toilet is behind one of those doors.”
“Toilet and bidet in the water closet. And a rain shower.”
“Rain shower? What’s that?”
I strode over and picked up a few hanging clothes. “We'll try it out. You’ll love it. And it includes a bench where you can lie down, which gives us interesting possibilities.” I waggled my eyebrows and hung his clothes in his empty closet. “Is this all?”
“Shit, no.” Rod jogged back to the garage for another load.
After several jogs back and forth, I stopped and wiped my brow. “You sure do have a lot of stuff.”
Rod grinned over another armload of hanging clothes. “Hey… I’m not the one who asked his soulmate to move in with him.”
“Soulmate, huh?” He didn’t know that I planned to make things even more permanent. I had a surprise to share. Until then, I helped him put things away. “Is that it?”
“I think I’m all moved in.” Rod wiped his brow. “How does a beer sound?”
“Let’s sit on the patio. Bring me one, too.” I tugged Rod’s arm through mine and led him toward the kitchen.
“What about supper?” Rod raised an eyebrow. “I’m kinda hungry.”
“And you’re suggesting I fix supper?” I held Rod’s arm.
“Can you grill steaks? A tenderloin sounds perfect. I’ll check through the kitchen stuff we brought from my house for a go-with.”
“If you don’t find what you need, Felipe’s wife keeps our pantry and fridge well stocked.”
Rod stopped and stared at me. “Felipe’s wife?”
“Did I not tell you? She keeps the house clean and does the shopping. You didn’t think Walt and I kept the kitchen stocked, did you?”
Rod snuggled into my side. “Now that you mention it, it seemed a bit odd. So she cleans the house, huh? I think I’m going to like this ranch life.”
I leaned over and nuzzled Rod’s ear. “I thought you might.”
“We have potatoes. I’ll scrub a couple and toss them into the microwave.”
“While you do that, I’ll grab sweatshirts. It’s a little chilly out, and I remember you love being on the patio with me while I grill the steaks.”
Potatoes in and sweatshirts on, Rod grabbed beer from the fridge while I checked the phone. Seeing the flashing message light on the answering machine, I pressed play.
“Wyl, Sam here. Mitzi’s attorney called. We need to go to Dallas to meet with him. I booked us on a Thursday flight from Lubbock. Call me if that won’t work. Otherwise, meet me at my office at 6:30 Thursday morning. Details en route.” The call disconnected. I frowned.
Rod came over and put his arm around my shoulders. “I heard that, and I can tell it disturbs you. Everything will be fine, Wyl. You told me Walt kept immaculate records. This is a fishing expedition by an overzealous lawyer and a money-hungry bitch.”
I chuckled at the reference to Mitzi. “I sure hope you’re right, Roddy. The money is not important, but the ranch is. This is our place.”
“I like this being our place.” Rod winked.
I pulled Rod close. “Yours and mine.”
After a brief kiss, I grabbed Rod’s hand and led him to the patio. After I lit the grill, we plopped into the chaises where Rod and Walt had reclined at Thanksgiving. That seemed like mere days ago.
“I’ll be gone Thursday. I’m not sure about overnight, but I’ll pack a carry-on.” I fidgeted with the label on my beer bottle.
Rod reached out a hand for me. “You need to show me what I need to do around here while you’re gone. I don’t want people saying, Wyl takes care of his half, but Rod’s half is shit!” He grinned at me.
I laughed and took Rod’s outstretched hand.
I couldn’t get enough of the spark flowing between us.
“The ranch hands will take care of the daily chores. You can check on the horses after you come home from the campus on Thursday. They like your apple treats.” I eyed Rod. “I hope you are at home here.
“My home is wherever you are.” Rod smacked me with an air kiss. “This is now my home too.”
The specter of Mitzi hung over my head like a storm cloud. Aggressive lawyers always had tricks up their sleeves. We shouldn’t need to deal with this during the holidays, but we had no choice.
Thursday afternoon, Sam and I met with Mitzi and her attorney, Jack “The Boulder” Cromwell.
Earlier that morning, while we waited for our flight, I checked him out online.
His ads featured a massive boulder falling onto a car, accompanied by his statement that he would crush objections and obtain the settlements his clients wanted.
Later that morning, Sam and I stood in his lavish legal offices in a tall downtown Dallas skyscraper.
I guessed he had many junior partners who did the dirty work.
“You may go in now.” Cromwell’s secretary opened one of the massive oak doors. The 20th-floor office had a panoramic view of downtown Dallas and to the north toward Highland Park and University Park, home to the moneyed.
Jack Cromwell stood from his massive desk and came forward, hand outstretched. “Mr. Collins, I’m pleased to meet a fellow legal professional.”
Sam extended his hand. “Mr. Cromwell. The pleasure is mine. May I introduce my client, Wyl Sterling?”
“Mr. Sterling,” Cromwell extended his hand. “A pleasure.”
“Mr. Cromwell,” I said, accepting the handshake but making no further comment.
Mitzi glared from a conference room table at one end of the roomy and ornate suite.
“Please, have a seat, and let’s work out the details.” Cromwell motioned toward the table. “I believe you know my client, Mitzi Sterling?”
“It has been a while.” Sam approached Mitzi and offered his hand. “We meet again, Miss Sterling.”
She offered a hand, as a lady wanting the back of her hand kissed. Sam grabbed and shook, not acknowledging her impudence. “That’s MRS. Sterling,” Mitzi corrected.
“Oh?” Sam set his briefcase on the table. “You married another Sterling?”
Mitzi rolled her eyes and sighed. “Divorcees can retain the title of missus. An urbane lawyer would know.”
“Perhaps, if the title works to her advantage.” Sam took a seat and motioned for me to do the same.
“But…” Mitzi started. Jack Cromwell held up his hand, stopping her from pursuing an argument that would serve no purpose in the day's proceedings.
“My client is seeking her rightful share of the estate of Mr. Walt Sterling,” Cromwell began. “She claims the full estate was not disclosed at the time of the divorce.”
“Mr. Cromwell,” Sam began, “I handled the divorce of Mr. Walt Sterling. We listed all assets under his control at the time. The claims of your client are without merit.”
Cromwell shook his head. “According to public records, the value of the ranch at the time of his death was much larger than the divorce documents indicate. How does your office justify that difference?”
“The divorce occurred before the deaths of Mr. Sterling’s parents.
The ranch value you mention does not consider other property owners, including my client, at the time of the divorce.
” Sam motioned to me. “Mr. Walt Sterling’s quarter interest in the ranch is based upon land values and other holdings in his sole possession at the time. ”
“Nevertheless, my client is willing to pursue this lawsuit,” Cromwell said. “We will require detailed financial records.”
At the implication, I balled my fists so tight they ached. My muscles vibrated. Self-control and the presence of witnesses kept me from leaping across the table and throttling Mitzi.
Smug Mitzi sat with her chin jutting out and arms crossed in defiance. Confidence oozed from her pores.
“Very well.” Sam nodded at me. “I wish to confer with my client this evening. May we schedule a further meeting in the morning?”
Cromwell sought permission from Mitzi. “Agreeable, Mrs. Sterling?”
“Fine,” Mitzi glared at both Sam and me.
Sam rose from his seat and motioned for me to rise as well. “We will return tomorrow morning at 9:00.”
“Nine o’clock.” Cromwell stood from his seat to show us out.