Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sun is starting to set when I pull my SUV out of the Belicourt parking lot with my mother riding shotgun.
My father barely finished his phone call before announcing he had dinner plans with one of his campaign donors.
Apparently, the man owns half of a development company somewhere in Jackson Hole and wants to discuss “future opportunities.”
Which translates to Barron Garrison eating lobster and drinking expensive whiskey somewhere while talking about his two favorite things: money and politics.
My mother smiled politely.
Then she turned to me as soon as he left the room.
“Would you take me out to see your grandfather?”
So, here we are.
She holds a warm takeout bag on her lap—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a container of gravy that smells like heaven for the two of us and the usual for Granddad.
My headlights sweep across the darkening road as we leave the hotel behind.
The farther we go, the quieter everything gets.
Fields stretch out on both sides of the road.
My mother watches the scenery through the window.
“I haven’t been out here in years,” she says softly. “Not since your grandmother passed.”
Her voice carries that quiet sadness I remember from that time.
I glance at her. “It’s peaceful.”
She smiles faintly.
The loss of my grandmother hit this family like a landslide.
The Silver Spur was never the same after that.
Neither was Josiah.
Neither was my mother.
The ranch comes into view about ten minutes later.
I pull through the gate and follow the gravel drive toward the house.
The porch light glows warmly in the growing darkness.
My grandfather’s truck sits in its usual spot beside the barn. It hasn’t been driven in years, but I crank it once a week just to keep it running.
“Home sweet home,” Mom murmurs. “I forgot how big it is.”
I park near the porch.
When we step inside the front door, Granddad’s voice immediately calls out, “That you, Porter?”
“Yeah, it’s me, old man. And I brought a surprise with me.”
I follow Mom into the living room.
Josiah is seated in his normal spot. His gray hair sticks up in the back like he’s been napping in the recliner again.
His eyes land on my mother.
For a split second, he just stares.
Then his face lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
My mother barely gets the words out before he’s on his feet.
He pulls her into a hug so tight that she squeaks.
“Easy.” She laughs breathlessly. “You’re going to crack a rib.”
Josiah ignores her completely and squeezes tighter.
“Look at you,” he says gruffly. “Still the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”
“I’ve missed you,” she grunts.
“Well, you should,” he says.
He lets her go and steps back. Finally letting her breathe.
I lean against the doorframe, watching them.
Just a father and his little girl.
Eventually, he turns his attention to me. “Missed you too, boy.” He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Brought supper,” I say, lifting the bag.
“Good. I’m getting tired of microwave dinners.”
I set the food on the coffee table and grab the TV trays.
The house smells like old wood and coffee and something faintly sweet I can’t quite place.
My mother pauses in the doorway of the dining room.
Her eyes drift slowly around the room.
The bed.
The dresser.
The old curtains my grandmother sewed decades ago.
“We moved Granddad down here,” I tell her. “It’ll be easier for him after his surgery.”
“Makes sense,” she murmurs.
Josiah snorts. “It don’t. But this one wasn’t gonna shut up till I did.”
We settle in the living room and set the food out on the trays.
Within minutes, the three of us are digging in to our full plates of comfort food.
My grandfather eats like he hasn’t seen a decent meal in days, and he probably hasn’t.
“So,” I say between bites, “did the plumber make it out yesterday?”
Josiah nods, chewing slowly. “They did.”
“And?”
“They replaced the pipes in the kitchen and the laundry room.”
I whistle softly. “That’s more than I expected.”
“Me too.” He shrugs. “Turns out, the old ones were damn near rusted through.”
“How long were they here?”
“Nearly all day.”
I nod. “Well, at least it’s done.”
“Cost a small fortune.”
“They’ll send me the bill.”
Josiah waves his fork at me. “Still highway robbery,” he grumbles.
We keep eating.
My mother listens quietly while we talk about repairs and ranch things she hasn’t dealt with in a very long time.
After a while, our plates are almost empty.
Josiah leans back in his chair and pats his stomach. “Well now,” he says, “anybody save room for a slice of pie?”
I blink at him. “Where the hell did you get pie?” I ask.
I know Martha didn’t buy him any. She’s the one who checks his insulin every day.
His mustache twitches. “I’ve got two.”
“Two?”
“That pretty young girl you brought by the other day came back on Sunday.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Harleigh?”
“That’s the one.” My grandfather grins. “She asked if I minded if she gathered some chokecherries from the trees out front.”
My eyebrows climb.
“They’re ripe and needed pickin’,” he continues. “So, I told her to go right ahead.”
I lean back slowly. “And?”
“And she showed up yesterday with two pies she and her grandmother had baked.”
My mother brightens immediately. “Chokecherry pie?”
His eyes go to her. “Yep. Your mother’s favorite.”
“Oh, that’s lovely.”
Josiah nods. “She made us a pot of coffee, and we shared a slice out on the porch before she left.”
I stare at him. “You’re telling me Harleigh came out here by herself … baked you a pie … and sat on the porch, drinking coffee with you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
My mother looks at me. “Who’s Harleigh?”
Josiah answers before I can. “She works with Porter down at the hotel.”
I sigh quietly.
My mother’s gaze sharpens. “You mean the young woman we met this morning?”
I nod. “Yes. Miss Storm.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Interesting.”
Josiah chuckles.
I shoot him a warning look.
He ignores it completely. “Boy brought her out here to meet me the other day.”
“Her ride was late, so I offered to take her home,” I tell her. “And I had food for him, so we stopped by here since it was on the way to her house.”
She gives me a look.
The one thing only mothers can give.
The one that says, I know exactly what’s going on with you, even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.
“I thought I saw something between you two this morning,” she says casually.
“There isn’t. She works for me. Nothing more.” My answer comes out faster than I meant it to.
Josiah snorts so loudly that he nearly chokes. “Bull.”
“I assure you, there’s nothing more going on.”
“Well, there should be if there ain’t. If I were sixty years younger,” he continues, pointing his fork at me, “I’d sure as hell court that girl.”
My mother laughs softly. “I liked her,” she says.
“She’s sharp as a tack, that one,” Josiah agrees. “And spunky. That’s a rare combination these days.”
I rub my forehead. “You two are making this into something it isn’t.”
“Oh?” my grandfather says.
“Yes.”
He studies me for a long moment.
Then he shakes his head.
“Boy,” he says, “you’re a fool.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” He leans forward. “You don’t want to waste your youth chasing sales figures and bottom lines because, believe me, it’ll all be gone in the blink of an eye.
Aging is the great equalizer. It humbles us all.
We realize that all those years we strived to be the strongest, prettiest, and richest were in vain because, in the end, none of it meant anything.
God willing, we all end up weak and wrinkled, having built a wealth of memories and love.
That’s the real meat and potatoes of life. ”
He gives me a sharp look. “That girl drove all the way out here just to bring an old man pie. She’s a keeper.”
“That does say something about her,” Mom agrees.
“And did you know she drives a 1952 Chevy?”
“Yeah, I’ve met Blue Bessie,” I say.
My grandfather’s grin widens. “That’s a badass machine. They don’t build them like that anymore,” he says. “We took her for a spin around the yard.”
My head snaps up. “You what?”
Josiah chuckles. “The truck. We took it for a ride before Harleigh had to leave.”
I stare at him. “She drove you around the ranch?”
“Damn right she did. We even did doughnuts in the driveway.”
My mother giggles.
I sit there in stunned silence.
Josiah points at Mom and nods. “It was fun as hell.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe she talked you into that.”
“She didn’t have to. She just asked.” He leans back smugly. “That girl’s got spirit.”
Yes.
Yes, she does.
My mother studies me carefully. “And you’re sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”
I meet her gaze. “Positive.”
Even as I say it, the memory of Harleigh sleeping in my arms flashes through my mind.
Her hair spread across my chest.
The warmth of her skin under my hands.
Josiah watches my face.
Then he grins like he just confirmed something.
“Damn fool,” he mutters again.
I sigh. “Can we just eat the pie?”
“Sure.”
He pushes himself up from the recliner and heads for the kitchen.
A minute later, he returns with a pie and a knife.
Dark purple filling peeks through the lattice crust.
“Ain’t it pretty?” he announces proudly.
My mother clasps her hands together. “Oh my.”
He cuts three slices and sets them on our empty plates.
We take the first bite together.
And I swear it might be the best damn pie I’ve ever had.
Josiah points his fork at me again. “Marry that girl.”
I choke on the pie.
My mother bursts out laughing. “Daddy!”
“What? The girl makes a mean pie.”
“Not sure pie baking is the strongest argument for matrimony,” I say.
His eyes come to mine and he grins.
“Nope, but it sure is a bonus.”
I take another bite, and as the buttery crust melts in my mouth, I have to admit he’s not wrong.