Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
LOUISA
D evastation is the only emotion I feel right now, watching Harry take stock of the miserably low numbers we brought down off the mountains. By the time we draft off the salable cattle, we’ll be barely able to scrape together half of the mortgage payment.
He trots past on Darby, cursing under his breath, and I try to talk to him. He’s closed off. Lost in worst-case-scenario mode.
“Harry?” I call after him.
He rounds the herd again. His hand points to the cattle as he roughly counts again.
Ned rides up beside me. “Something tells me he ain’t happy.”
“No, he’s not.”
My words are frail, like my hope at this point.
I adjust Mara’s reins in my hands. If they aren’t holding something right now, I think I will lose it.
My gut flips when Harry rips the hat from his head and shoves a hand through his hair. That one move tells me all I need to know.
After everything we went through, with buying the ranch, Ma, this roundup. This is a solid kick to the guts. Between the herd being too small, the wolves, and only being able to bring a portion of them down with the four of us, it’s not good.
Not good at all.
“Best get to draftin’ them out then, buddy,” Ned calls to Harry.
He waves him off but starts pushing the herd toward the pound. Ned tips his hat at me and trots over to Harry.
Mick is already off his horse and opening the gate, letting the first few head into the round section to be drafted.
Harry trots in with them as Mick closes the gate behind him. Harry singles out the first beast, barking orders at Mick on which gate it’s to go through. This is going to take a while. I’m exhausted, starving, and I’m betting the men are, too.
So, I walk Mara from the yards and tie her at the rail, heading for the house to do what I do best.
Feed the man I love.
In the kitchen, the food I left in the refrigerator a week ago looks more appealing than it should. I take out ingredients for a quick, hot meal and get to chopping. Instantly, it relaxes me. A thought hits me as I pause, knife hovering over the carrot under my persuasion. I could be happy here, cooking for the people I love.
Having long days with Harry.
The two of us working together. Working on something we build with our bare hands. And our hearts.
The knife slips from my hand.
If we don’t make the payment, every dream Harry and I have attached to this place goes up in smoke.
If Rosie was right, and this is my ship to steer, there’s one thing I can do that will make sure we stay afloat.
I push the veggies into a pile and wipe my hands on a tea towel. Plucking the phone from the receiver at the wall, I punch in Mama Mancini’s number.
She picks up on the third ring.
“Hey Mrs. Mancini, it’s Louisa. I need to talk to you about something. It’s important. And it can’t wait.”
* * *
“Are you sure?” Mama’s eyes are narrowed, her hands wrapped around one of mine.
I nod.
She leans forward. “Well, if this is what you want, and it’s your choice, then I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding an investor willing to buy both of us out. This place is a staple in this little old town.”
“I have someone in mind. But...”
The thought of asking Brad for anything makes me cringe.
But his family owns many businesses in Lewistown. I guess it goes with the territory of being accountants. Good business is their bread and butter.
I only hope they are interested and their payment comes before the weeks end, otherwise Rosewood Ranch is going to be another thing Harry’s lost.
“Well, you let me know what you find out. If nothing is settled by the week’s end, I will telephone the real estate people.” She gives me a soft smile. “For the record, despite your love of this old place, and the food, none of this will matter without the person you want to share it with. You’re making the right choice, bambina. Other opportunities will come your way. Mark my words, hey.”
“Thank you. And thank you for understanding. I realize you had everything planned.”
She waves her hand and huffs a small sound. “Best laid plans, rotten things.”
I chuckle at the face she pulls. She rises and wanders into the kitchen only to reappear. “You will be needing this. I meant what I said when I wanted you to have these recipes. As much as they are a family heirloom, they are no use to an old lady with no one to hand them down to. I couldn’t think of a better cook to carry them on.”
I stand, and she hands me the folder with the recipes we have cooked together, bound in the cream folder I scavenged from the restaurant’s front counter. It’s now bound with a large rubber band and is suspiciously fuller than the last time I saw it.
“You added more?” I ask.
“A few things to get you and Harry through the tougher times.” She winks at me and pats my cheek like she’s done since the day I turned up on her doorstep. “You know what they say about a man’s heart. Intrinsically attached to his stomach.”
I can’t help the laugh bursting from me.
Mama’s humor is always a little dry and a lot quirky, with her mismatched sayings and huge heart.
“Thank you, again. I can’t say it enough.”
“Go! Get that deal of yours done. Time waits for no woman.”
With a smile to outshine the midday sun, I fly out of the restaurant, folder in hand, and rush my way to the only accounting office in town. The doorbell sings as I bust through it to find a small beige front counter.
I can’t believe I’ve never been in here.
“Can I help you?” a young woman asks. I recognize her. She was with Brad at the restaurant a few weeks back.
Keeping it in-house, Brad.
How... convenient.
Bet his mother is pleased.
When I don’t answer, she raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, sorry. Can I see Brad? It’s kind of an emergency.”
She drags her focus from me to her giant appointment book. Her finger runs down the page, and she sucks in a breath before saying, “He has five minutes ’til his next appointment. I suppose you could go in.”
“Thanks!” I turn away from the desk. “Ah, which door is it?”
“Second on the left.” She taps her wristwatch.
I nod and give her a tight wave before laying a knock onto Brad’s door.
“Come.”
Okay, here goes.
I open the door and the surprised look on his face is priceless. Well, I guess this time it has a price.
“Louisa?” He frowns and sits up taller in his chair.
“Hi, do you have a minute?”
“Ah, I guess. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” I sit on the upholstered seat across the desk from him as I flip through ways to go about this. “I?—”
“I’m seeing someone, if that’s why you’re here.”
My mouth drops open, but I catch it before it can make this more awkward than it already is. I press my lips together and shift on the chair, clinging to the folder in my hands. “Actually, I have a proposition for you.”
He leans back, and his frown deepens.
Not the best word choice.
Dammit.
How is this so hard?
“Okay, sorry, let me start again. I want you to buy Mama’s Place.”
He leans forward a little now. It’s when his hands unfold from his chest and he mindlessly adjusts the stationery on his desk that I know I have him.
“I thought you had the contract on that place?”
“I do. I mean, I did. I need to sell my part. And the Mancinis need to retire.”
“And you came to me?” The frown reappears.
“I know, we didn’t have the best run in the relationship department. Mixed signals and all.”
“Is that what you call your boyfriend punching me in the face?”
Now my mouth gapes open all the way.
Harry never told me he did...
What?
When?
As if reading the confusion on my face, Brad offers, “The night of the dance. He was pretty upset I didn’t finish that dance with you.”
His words sound incredulous, as if he’d conducted himself well and is shocked by the outcome. This is not where I want this conversation to go. I need it to go well. I need Brad to help me out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—Harry, he?—”
Brad holds up a hand. “I know all about the Rawlins family. Frankly, I don’t see why you made the choice you did. But I’ve moved on. You should, too.”
Now, the scoffing sound echoing around his office spills from my mouth.
Shut it down, Louisa.
“Good to know,” I say, hoping that will placate him.
He simply nods. “The restaurant is a solid investment. Why do you want out?”
“I need the money for the ranch.” The second the words leave my mouth, I realize I’ve made a mistake. He isn’t likely to help Harry. Helping me was a stretch. But helping Harry after the drama at the dance, losing the girl to the guy who hit him in the face...
We’re screwed.
A knock rattles the door that’s still ajar.
“Louisa! I thought that was you.” Mrs. Connors pokes her head inside the office.
“Hi,” I offer, conjuring my brightest smile.
Maybe it’s not all lost yet.
“What brings you to the office?” she asks, tilting her head while her glance bounces between me to her son.
“I’m just talking to Brad about selling my share of the restaurant.”
“Oh, I love that old place. So many great memories for Mr. Connors and me there.”
I twist on my seat and my expression is almost pleading, I’m sure. “Would you be interested in buying it? Brad was saying it’s a solid investment.”
“I can’t believe Mama is selling. I never thought I’d see the day.” Mrs. Connors sits on the corner of her son’s desk.
“Well, she is. We are. And it’s a quick sale. So no need to auction or negotiate, etc. No competition .”
“You know what, you leave it with me. Can I get back to you in a day or two?”
“Absolutely.” I shoot up from my seat and shake her hand like a goddamn idiot.
She chuckles. “I’ll talk to you soon. Leave your number with reception.”
“Will do.” I back out of the office, not wanting to turn my back on the only lead I’ve got so far.
“Oh, and Louisa?” Mrs. Connors adds as I’m halfway out the door.
“It’s so lovely to see you again.” She shoots her son a pointed look.
“You too.” I wave and hurry back to the reception counter. I scribble my number at the ranch and leave it with the receptionist.
Bursting with hope, and so stinkin’ excited I could pass out, I walk through the accountant’s front door. The milky sunshine barely warms my cheeks, but I don’t care. After weeks of things going wrong, something finally has the potential to go right.
Now, all I need is for this deal to come through before the week’s out.
I glance up at the cold sky and the wispy clouds scudding across it. Crisp air whips at my face, sending my nose tingling.
Fingers crossed, Rosie.