Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Hartley
I dry the last dish and place it in the cupboard.
Lolly and the girls’ chatter from the living room drifts through the air, joining the late afternoon sun in warming the kitchen.
They tried to stop me from doing the dishes, but I insisted.
Partly, because Dad always said that just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you have to be one.
If a woman cooks for you, your ass better be in the kitchen cleaning it up.
And he walked the talk. Every single night of his life.
But the other, more selfish reason I wanted to do the dishes was so that I didn’t have to leave.
I hang the towel over the side of the sink as Markie comes into the room.
“You are officially my favorite person,” she says, picking up a plate of leftovers Lolly made for each of us to take home. The woman doesn’t know how to cook without fixing enough for a small army. “First, you tell Jasper to fuck off, and then you do the dishes. You’re a gift from God.”
I chuckle. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I appreciate the sentiment.” And I’d appreciate it more if your sister felt the same … and that was reason enough to stay.
And to be mine.
“I’m heading out of here. Mayor Blackwell asked me if I could tutor his daughter in math and wants me to start tonight.”
“Math, huh? Sounds like fun.”
She grins. “I’ll pretend not to hear the sarcasm in your voice.” She heads for the door. “See ya later, Hart.”
“Bye.”
I blow out a breath, following her to gaze through the glass door. In the distance, the treetops, barely visible over a rolling hill, highlight the back of my property. Betsy Barn is a few hundred feet beyond that.
My chest tightens as I imagine what it must’ve felt like for my grandpa to break off this chunk and sell it.
The thought of selling off any of my land is like being pierced in the heart—and I didn’t buy it.
I didn’t bleed to get the ranch started or save and gamble to make my dreams come true.
I just did what I always do—pick up the pieces and keep things going without adding much to the mix.
The taste of defeat stings my tongue as I turn toward the living room. But as I move, I catch a glimpse of the corner of an envelope sticking out of a pile of mail. Joe Jewell, Attorney at Law is printed in bold black ink.
My feet falter as I pause, staring at the label as if it might bite me. Bile creeps up my throat as my worst nightmare comes into an undeniable reality.
“Hartley? Can you join us, please?” Lolly calls.
I want to ignore her. I want to rush to the door and hop in my truck. Anything but hear the news. But even if I don’t hear it, it won’t change a damn thing. Lolly is respectful enough to tell me in person, and I appreciate that.
My shoulders tighten as I enter the living room. Lolly sits in a recliner with a cup of coffee, and Mira is curled up on a loveseat across from her. Faced with sitting beside Mira or the rocking chair on the other side of the coffee table, I choose the chair.
“Again, lunch was great,” I say, running my hands down my thighs. “Thanks for having me.”
Lolly smiles as if she’s not about to break my fucking heart.
The air is hot, the room feels stuffy, and I want to open a window or turn on a fan. I claw at my collar, tugging it away from my neck.
“Now that it’s just the three of us, I want to have a little chat,” she says, sipping her drink.
How can she drink something hot when it’s blistering in here?
Mira catches my gaze and lifts a brow. I give her the slightest shrug.
“Joe Jewell has been on my butt about getting my affairs in line ever since Pop passed away two years ago.” Lolly sets her mug on a doily on the side table. “I’ve put it off because no one wants to think about death.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Mira says, unwinding her legs from beneath her.
“Sit.” Lolly stops her from getting up with a pointed look.
I clear my throat. “With all due respect, this seems like a private family matter. I’m not sure why I’m here or that I should be here, for that matter.”
Lolly groans, rolling her eyes. “You two are proving my damn point.”
Mira and I exchange another confused look.
“I had this eloquent speech to share with you two yahoos, but I’m just going to cut to the chase,” Lolly says. “Ed Beardsley contacted me about selling the property.”
Here we go …
My stomach floats as it senses the crest of the roller coaster that I’m about to plunge down. I hold my breath, the pause in the conversation dragging out the anticipation until I’m nearly stretched as thin as a wire.
The silence screams louder than anything Lolly could say. My body tries to get ahead of what’s to come—bracing, preparing for impact—but there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. No way in the world to be ready for what she’s about to share.
The drop is coming and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“And to be honest, I’ve considered it,” Lolly says. “It’s a lot of money—a lot of money. I could do so much good with it, take so many vacations.” She sighs, closing her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, she’s looking straight at me. “But that’s not what I want.”
It’s not?
I can’t take a full breath. Her words bounce around in my head as I try to reconcile them with the peace on her face. What’s she saying? What does that mean?
“What are you saying, Lolly?” Mira asks carefully.
Lolly shifts in her chair. “This isn’t just land to me.
It isn’t just a piece of ground with a farmhouse plopped on it that can easily be exchanged for cash.
” She looks around the room, smiling softly to herself.
“Pop and I redid our vows in front of that fireplace. We …” She chuckles.
“We’d hide in the closet by the bathroom to get a little privacy because you kids wouldn’t look there, and it was the only room with a lock. ”
I fight a smile as Mira’s eyes grow wide.
“I brought your mother here after she was delivered into this world,” Lolly says to Mira. Her voice hitches, causing a lump to form in my throat. “And I came back to these walls after she left.”
My attention swings to Mira as tears fill her eyes.
I take a hurried breath, clutching the armrests to keep myself from going to her and pulling her into my arms. That pain …
I know that pain so well, and it kills me to have her sitting this close to me but still so far away. I’d do it, but it’s not my place.
“When I stand outside,” Lolly says, “I still hear her voice playing in the fields. Sometimes I glance out the window and think I can see you and your sister playing on the old tire swing that used to hang from the old hickory tree out back.”
Mira smiles through her unshed tears.
“I held your grandpa as he fell apart after losing his mother in this room,” she says, licking her lips.
“When money was tight, this land fed us. When we needed a place to celebrate or grieve, we came home. Pop worked this ground with his hands … he touched every damn part of it. And that means something.”
I nod softly, understanding her point.
“I know you get it, Hartley,” she says, turning to me. “Your family did the same thing here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
Lolly takes another drink, steadying herself. Mira uses the end of her shirt to not-so-discreetly dab at her eyes. I try to keep my thoughts from scattering around the room.
I have no idea where she’s going with this. She said she doesn’t want to sell to Beardsley. So … what? What does that mean, and what does it have to do with me?
“So, kids, I have a proposition for you,” she says, sighing as she places her mug back on the doily. “You can take it or leave it.”
“What is it, Lolly?” Mira asks.
“I trust the two of you more than anyone to understand what this place means,” she says. “And I fear that when I’m gone, it’ll just be sold away like the memories didn’t mean a thing.”
My heart pounds as Lolly’s voice grows more serious. I run my palms down my thighs again, wishing that I had worn a T-shirt beneath this flannel.
“Of course, if you do decide to sell it, that’s up to you,” Lolly says. “And that’s fair.”
If we sell it? I sit up. “I’m sorry, Lolly, but I’m not following you.”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” she says. “And I think I’ve found a way to do right by the property, Mira, and you, Hartley.”
“Me?” I ask, my brows pulling together. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do.” Lolly looks me in the eye. “This land means as much to you as it does to me. And my granddaughter?” She glances at Mira. “I think it goes without saying that she means something to you.”
Mira’s eyes flash to mine. I’m not sure what Lolly means by that, but there’s no time to consider it.
“I can’t just leave the land to you, Hartley, and the house and front acreage to you, Mira.”
“Why?” Mira asks.
I hold out my hands, my blood rocketing through my veins so fast that I think I might pass out. “I’m flattered, truly. Humbled, really. But Lolly …”
“Because if I let you inherit it separately, you’ll both do what you always do.” She looks at her granddaughter. “One of you will run.” Then she looks at me. “And one of you will stay until there’s nothing left of you besides the responsibilities you weren’t asked if you wanted to carry.”
I turn my attention to the hardwood floors, unable to make eye contact with either of them.
“If I give you this, independent of each other, I won’t just lose this place. I’ll lose both of you to it,” Lolly says softly. “And both of you deserve better than that.”
Her observations sting, but I can’t argue with them because she’s right.
But she wants to give me a piece of the property?
My mouth goes dry as I fully wrap my brain around this revelation. It can’t possibly be true. Even though it makes sense after listening to her, people don’t do this. They don’t give hundreds of acres to another human for nothing.
I raise my sights until they’re set on Mira. She’s sitting upright, a pillow pulled onto her lap, and her bun leaning sideways from the top of her head. She seems as frazzled as I feel.
“So I have a proposition,” Lolly says again.
“Again, you can take it or leave it.” She pastes on a smile as if she’s bracing herself for our reactions.
“I had Joe draw up some paperwork for the land to go into a trust. If the terms of the trust are completed, the house and front fifty acres will be turned over to you, Mira, and you can do with it what you want. The rest of the property will be signed over to you, Hartley.”
What the fuck?
My jaw dusts the floor.
“What about Markie?” Mira asks.
“Your part would be appraised, and Markie would get cash for the equivalent. You two can split whatever is left. I’ve already spoken to her about it, and she gave me her full support.”
She has that much cash?
Lolly must read the surprise on my face because she smiles. “My husband was quite the businessman. With the way I live, I could probably make it another fifty years before I ran out of money.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I don’t know what to say, Lolly.”
“Don’t say anything yet. I haven’t given you the terms.”
Mira casts me a worried look. “Which are …?”
“You two must be married for a full year,” Lolly says casually.
We have to get married? I flinch, certain I’ve misunderstood her.
“What?” Mira squeaks in disbelief.
“A full year,” Lolly says, doubling down. “You must act and live as a married couple. If you tell anyone that it’s for show, the deal is off, and I sell to Beardsley.”
I scratch the top of my head and get to my feet. This can’t be happening. No part of this is real.
I get the land, but I must marry Mira?
Marry her?
“Beardsley made me an offer, and I have a month to accept it,” Lolly says.
“So if you want to do this, I need to know fairly quickly—within the next week—so I can have my attorney negotiate with Beardsley. He might think I’m an old woman, but I can drive a hard bargain.
” She pauses to clear her throat. “And to be clear, I will live here until I pass away. I have no intention of moving out or changing my lifestyle. If you two clear the year requirement, the trusts will be turned over to you when I leave this world. That could be a year from now, could be twenty. That’s up to the good Lord. ”
The thought is a rock in my stomach as I carry it with me pacing the room. Of course, I want to marry Mira. I’ve wanted to marry her since I was five years old. But marrying her now—like this?
Fuck.
I study her profile as she stares at her grandmother, hoping like hell that I see … something. Something to work from, to go off, because I’m drowning here in a sea of possibility and heartbreak.
“No offense, Lolly, but I think asking us to get married is a little overkill, don’t you think?” Mira asks, stumbling over the words. She stays focused on Lolly, never looking my way. Still, I spot the slight tremble of her bottom lip and the defiant slant of her shoulders.
She doesn’t have to say it out loud. I’ve spent most of my life learning how to recognize the moment Mira starts looking for an exit.
“No, I don’t.” Lolly looks at me. “I’m not asking you to fall in love. I’m not asking you to have a baby. I’m simply asking you to give this place that I love dearly a chance before you sell it or let it ruin you. That’s all. And marriage is the only way I can see it working.”
“This is ... um …” I blow out a breath. Take a second, Adler. Calm down and start from scratch. “Are you serious, Lolly?”
“I’ve never been more serious.” She gets to her feet and lifts her mug. “Now, I need you both to go because I’m meeting friends for book club in an hour and I have to get fixed up before I leave. Get back to me when you have an answer.”
“Get back to me when you have an answer.” I stare at her for a moment, dumbfounded. Give her an answer like I’m deciding whether I want chicken or beef for dinner. But she’s unflinching, her jaw set as she watches me for my reaction.
“Well, okay,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Thanks for lunch and for … whatever this was.”
She laughs. “You’re very welcome. And I know this comes as a shock, but I think it’ll make more sense once you’ve had some time to think about it.”
Likely not.
Mira is planted on the couch, still refusing to look at me. It’s probably for the best because she’d see the look on my face if she turned my way. And at the moment, I’m not sure what that look would say. I am sure I’m probably better off not knowing.
“Thanks again,” I mutter and let myself out of the house.
I don’t breathe again until I’m halfway down the driveway.