Beau
thirty-seven
I pick up my phone for the hundredth time today and scroll through my contacts until I find Duke’s number. But like the ninety-nine times before, I can’t bring myself to hit the call button.
I stare at the screen, frustrated with my inexplicable hesitancy, then hit the lock button and set my phone face down on the kitchen counter. It’s too late to disturb him now anyway. I’ll call first thing in the morning and officially accept the job.
Relieved to put off obsessing about it for at least the next twelve hours, I stick my head in the refrigerator and bite back a groan.
“It has to be the hot dogs,” I call to Ollie at the table. “Either that or eggs again.”
“Blergh.”
I straighten and shoot my nephew an offended look. “My eggs are blergh?”
“They weren’t the first fifty times,” he says, eyes on his sketchbook as he fills in the color of Pony Noir’s coat. “But they are now.”
“I probably shouldn’t say this,” I reply, closing the fridge and joining him at the table, “but I agree with you. If I never eat another omelet again, it will be too soon.”
Ollie’s smile lifts one side of his mouth. “Told you.”
“So, listen.” I clasp my hands on the table in front of me and try to sound confident. “We need to talk about our plans.”
His pencil stills on the page, and then he slowly sets it down. “We’re leaving, aren’t we?”
I give him an empathetic smile. “I know you don’t want to, and it’s going to be hard for me too, but remember what we said about trusting each other? I need you to trust me that this is the best thing for all of us.”
He sighs, shoulders slumping. “What is this place we’re going?”
“It’s called Emberfield. It’s run by a nice family in Kismet Creek, which is just over an hour’s drive from here. Daisy says we’ll come back to visit all the time, so you can still see Izzy, if you want to.”
Ollie frowns, then snaps upright. “Aunt Daisy is coming with us?”
“She wants to,” I say carefully. “And when your Aunt Daisy wants something, she usually finds a way to get it.”
“I want her to come too!” Ollie grins. “Will we all live together?”
I try not to smile, wary of making promises I’m not sure I can keep, but I meant it when I said I want our relationship to be based on mutual honesty, and his joy is infectious.
“That’s the plan. Yes.”
“Wow.” Ollie shakes his head like he can’t believe his luck. “This makes things much better.” A cloud passes over his face, and he sags again. “I’m going to miss Pony Noir.”
“I’m sure he’ll miss you too,” I reply. “But, like I said, we’re not going far. Pony Noir can still be part of your life.”
This cheers him up a little. “Okay. When do we leave?”
“School goes back for you the week after next, so we’ll be out of here in a couple of days.”
He pouts a little and rolls his eyes. “School. Blergh.”
“Worse than my eggs?” I ask.
Ollie chuckles. “I hope not.”
I ruffle his hair and return to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator again just as there’s a knock on the door.
“You expecting someone?” I tease.
“Nope,” Ollie says.
He hops up and hovers at my hip as I open the door. It’s Dylan.
“Hey,” I greet him. “Daisy’s not here.”
“I’m not looking for Daisy,” he replies. “I came to talk to you.” He grins at my nephew. “Hey there, Ollie. Good to see you again.”
“Hey,” Ollie says, at ease now with Izzy’s dad. He cranes his neck to look up at me. “Can I go finish my picture?”
“Sure. I’ll be out here for a few more minutes, okay? Then I’ll start dinner.”
“I’m in no rush for hot dogs,” he assures me before darting back inside.
Dylan waits until Ollie disappears inside before he says, “Kid gave us a scare yesterday. I’m glad he’s okay.”
“You and me both,” I reply with unabashed relief. “I’m sorry for the trouble. Things have been complicated here, and Ollie was scared. I should’ve handled things better, but…” I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing half the time.”
Dylan leans back against the porch rail. “None of us do. Parenting is the hardest job in the world, and single parenting comes with a whole lot of extra challenges.”
“I’m starting to realize that.”
“And you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I want to apologize to you.”
“You do?” There’s no way to mask my surprise. “Why?”
Dylan rubs his neck, his smile chagrined. “I’m sorry my daughter put ideas in Ollie’s head about how to run away. They concocted a whole scheme, by the sounds of things. He was going to move into the main house, did you know that?”
My mouth lifts a little. “Yeah. There’s a trundle with his name on it, apparently.”
Dylan huffs a laugh. “Izzy’s a bright kid, but she’s not even eight years old.
Sometimes, she’s clever enough that I lose sight of that, and this is a reminder of how much growing up she has to do.
I hope you’ll accept my apology and my assurance that Poppy and I had a very long, very serious talk with her about her choices, and about how dangerous it was for Ollie to do something like this.
She understands it was wrong, and it won’t happen again. ”
“I never thought to assign blame in this, especially not to Izzy, but I appreciate you coming to talk about it. Truly. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” Dylan hesitates, then adds, “And what you said about causing trouble. You know we don’t consider it trouble, right? This is what happens in families, and that’s what we’re here for. To step up and step in when someone needs us. Nobody judges you for what happened.”
“Yeah, well, with Ollie’s little adventure on top of my father showing up at your home and ruining your day, I wouldn’t blame you if you did judge me. I deserve it.”
Dylan frowns. “Do you really believe that?”
I shrug. “Can’t say I dwell on it too much, but with a family like mine, you learn to live with the way people look at you. The way they don’t say what they’re really thinking is just something you get used to.”
The lines on Dylan’s forehead deepen before he smooths them away. “So, listen. Daisy came to see us this afternoon and told us about your plans to move up to Kismet Creek. Duke offered you a job at Emberfield?”
“That’s right, and if this is about giving all the necessary notice, I’ll have something in writing to Charlie in the morning. If it means forfeiting any wages, I understand. I know I’m leaving you in the lurch.”
His expression softens in a way I’m not used to. “I’m not here about that.”
“Oh.” I nod with a dry laugh. “You’re here because Daisy wants to come with me.”
Dylan tilts his head from side to side. “That’s part of it.”
“I didn’t ask her to leave Silver Leaf, if that’s what you think.”
“Nope. Daisy made it clear that this is her choice. She loves you, she wants to be with you, and she’ll follow you anywhere to make sure that happens.” He nods toward the closed cabin door. “She loves that little boy too.”
I swallow thickly. “We both do.”
“She also told us she offered you a job here, and you turned it down.”
My smile is wry this time, and I lean my hip on the porch rail. “You were at breakfast the other morning. You heard as well as I did the conversation between Daisy and Charlie. There isn’t a job for me to turn down. Just a dream in Daisy’s head that might never be a reality.”
Dylan’s gaze sharpens. “But if there was a job for you at Silver Leaf, would you take it?”
“You mean the job I’ve got?” I shake my head.
“A couple of years ago, I was satisfied being a stable hand and not much more. It’s a fine way to live, but I’ve got Ollie to think about now.
I need more money. More stability. I need to set a better example so the kid understands what it means to work hard and make something of himself.
The job at Emberfield ticks all the boxes. I’d be a fool to say no to it.”
“You make a good argument,” he says easily, “but I’m not talking about the stable hand job. I mean the manager role. Supervising operations and administration so Daisy can focus on her camping tours and trail rides.”
My brows knit together. “Like I said to Daisy—like Charlie said to Daisy—that’s a business decision. I don’t want to get in the middle of your family’s politics.”
Dylan tries not to smile. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you already are.”
I huff a laugh. “All the more reason for me to get out of here, wouldn’t you say?”
He chuckles a little. “Daisy tells us you don’t think you’re qualified for the job.” He laughs harder at the look on my face. “Did I get that wrong?”
“Someone’s wires got crossed somewhere,” I say. “I can do the job with one hand tied behind my back, but that’s not the problem.”
“So what is?”
The guy waits for my answer with patient interest, and though part of me is uncomfortable laying all my shit bare, the other can’t help but respond to the fact that he’s here and he wants to talk.
“Charlie hired me to be a stable hand. Any promotion now wouldn’t be because I earned it. It would be because Daisy twisted Charlie’s arm to give it to me, and I don’t want it that way. I’m nobody’s charity case.”
His nod is slow and thoughtful. “Do you know how I became head chef at The Hill?”
The sharp change in subject knocks me a little off balance. “Um… no?”
“My dad hired me. He sat me down the day after I finished my apprenticeship and gave me the job. You know where I apprenticed?”
I’m trying to connect the dots, but he’s jumped too far sideways, and I’m lost. “Nope.”
“The Hill,” he says with a self-deprecating half smile. “My family’s very own restaurant. You think I’d done enough to earn the job as head chef? A twenty-year-old kid with three years of chopping onions on his resume?”
I swallow a quip about nepo babies. “So you got the easy road. Is that what you’re saying?”
He lifts one shoulder. “In some ways, it was easy, but just because I did nothing to earn the job before I got it doesn’t mean I haven’t worked my ass off every day since to prove I deserve it.”
“Dylan, if this is a pep talk—”