2. Birdie
2
BIRDIE
"Dad, I've got the copies of those policies you wanted," I say, walking into my father's office.
Looking up from his desk, I don't miss how tired he looks. Definitely stressed, and as he's prone to doing, taking the weight of the world–or the town –on his shoulders.
Timber Falls isn't a city by any stretch of the imagination, but it's the biggest town around these parts, acting as a mini-hub for all the districts around us. That means there's always something to be done or someone complaining.
Then again, my father is also the type who never takes a holiday and rarely goes a whole weekend without doing something town-related.
"What would I do without you, Baby Bird?"
I place the stack of documents on his desk and pop a hip, rubbing my hand over my chin. "I don't know. How about we don't think about that."
He chuckles, already looking brighter than when I first walked in.
It's just been me and Dad since Mom passed away ten years ago. I like to think I'm the best of her and Dad combined, and ever since she left us far too soon, I've looked at life as an adventure yet to be experienced. That's probably why I've somehow ended up being the town's everyday Girl Friday–a jack of all trades and master of none. Well, a Jill in my case.
I currently split my time working three different jobs. First, I'm a floating secretary, helping Dad out at the Mayoral office and Micah Johnson's Law office down the hall. Micah's rarely in town, splitting his time between Timber Falls and his home at Bear Mountain. He lives with his wife Skye and their family on a homestead with the other eight founding brothers.
They're lovely people and their lives on the mountain fascinate me. Then again, that might be because each of the founding brothers were rewarded by a previously dormant prophecy that brought them together with their soulmate.
I call the secretary job my caretaker job. Because without me, Dad would never leave the office, and Micah would need to spend more here instead of being on his beloved mountain.
My second job has me working as a hostess at Falls Pan and Grill, a fancy schmancy restaurant in the middle of one of the main streets in town that we call Restaurant Row. That's what I call my adult job.
Since that's only working the lunch service and the occasional night shift, I also pull some shifts for my fun job at the town's only bar, The Lion's Lair.
Between the three jobs I like lending a hand to whoever needs it, when they need it. Helping others is my love language, it's my way of giving back to this community and town that I adore.
Then, with whatever time I have left over I try to do new things. Right now, that's teaching myself how to cook and expanding my palate and in turn, Dad's too.
The most important thing to me is that me and Dad are happy–even better when I can tear him away from his desk. I'm not a fancy girl, I don't need expensive things or much of anything.
I have a little cottage at the back of Dad's house, an old red truck that I've had since I was fifteen that's seen better days, and my health. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters.
Slumping down in one of the seats opposite the mayoral desk, I make a point of looking at the wall clock. "So, Daddy-o. You do know that it's almost five o'clock, right?"
Dad's lips twitch as he leans back in his chair, eyeing me curiously. "Is it? I would never have guessed…"
A resigned sigh escapes me. " Dad …." I shake my head. "What am I goin' to do with you?"
"Keep feedin' me your good cookin' and look after me when I'm old and gray?"
I can't help but laugh. "That's a given. Knowin' you, you'll still be runnin' for Mayor at eighty-five and campaignin' in a walker."
"Hey! I will not have a walker," he harrumphs before his lips twitch with a grin. "I'll have one of those motorized scooters ."
"What, with snow wheels to get down the main street in Winter?"
"You bet," he beams before crossing his arms over his chest. "Now, you look like you've got some gossip."
That has me glaring at him. "What do you mean?"
"You get all twitchy when you know somethin' and want to tell me. You've done it since you were my baby bird. Now tell me."
"Oh OK, then," I sigh dramatically before leaning forward in my seat. "Wanna know what I heard on my lunch shift today?"
Dad mimics the move by straightening and leaning his elbows on the desk in front of him. "What did my baby bird hear at the restaurant today?"
"Old Lady Harrison and Old Lady Holden came in for lunch today," I start.
"That's generally what happens when you visit a restaurant. You go there to eat , Birdie…" His eyes dance with humor.
"Yeah, yeah. Very funny," I say with a customary eye roll. " Anyway , I was deliverin' their Salmon Tartare with Creamy Cucumber and Dill salad–"
"Damn, that sounds so good. Maybe we could go there for dinner tonight," he says, sounding hopeful.
"No can do, Daddy-o. I've got a new recipe in the slow cooker for us. It's twice-cooked oxtail stew with prunes, tomatoes, and carrots."
He tries to screw his nose up before schooling his expression. "Hmm. Sounds great.. ."
A gasp escapes me. "I'll have you know that it smelled delicious when I left home for my shift, and it's got the bonus of bein' good for you. I call that a win-win."
"Well, as long as it tastes alright…"
"Dad, it'll be great. Wanna know why?" I say, locking eyes with him. "Because I made it. And you love my cookin'."
"I do… so back to Mrs. Harrison and Mrs. Holden?"
My smile widens. "Oh yeah. They were talkin' about all the things happenin' around town, as they do–"
"You mean, gossipin'."
"Yeah, that. Anyway, just as I was placin' their plates in front of them, I heard them talkin' about the old Cooper Ranch and how Ridley's grandsons were movin' in very soon. They heard it from Mack at the diner, who heard it from Ben at the Lair. Word on the street says they're goin' to be livin' at the ranch for the foreseeable future. And not just one of them, nope. All four grandsons are comin'. Is that wild?"
"I know," he deadpans and my eyes nearly jump out of my head and roll out onto his desk.
"You knew they were comin', and you didn't tell me?"
He shrugs, leaning back in his chair again and crossing his arms over his chest looking far too smug for getting on over on me. "I didn't think you'd be this interested."
My mouth drops so wide I could probably catch a whale with it. "Me? Not interested? Do you even know me at all? "
One could say that I can be a little melodramatic sometimes. It's all in good fun though. I'm not high maintenance or dramatic or anything. That's too much hard work and that would cut into my happiness. Work to live not live to work, remember?
"You were there when Ridley told us that he'd hoped they'd come back to the land one day. There are things he wanted them to find out, remember ?" he says, giving me a knowing look before I glare his way. His answering chuckle warms my heart and my annoyance cracks–as it always does when it's him. " Believe me, Baby Bird. You've been as curious as a cat since you were old enough to conjugate. That's why I knew you'd be curious about their arrival, but as with anyone new to town, we should give them time to settle in."
"Do you know anythin' else about them?"
"Just that the oldest came to town late last year to check on the property but he was only here for a few days. This time, they're all comin' to live, and from my understanding, it'll be for a good wee while at least."
I catch something in his tone. "Not permanent? How could anyone live here and not want to stay?"
"I agree, Birdie. That's all I know about that. I'm not breakin' Ridley's confidence even if he's passed," he replies, piquing my curiosity even more.
"What does that mean, Dad?" I send him a pointed stare, watching as the playful glint in his eyes softens.
"Baby Bird, the Cooper brothers are movin' to Ridley's ranch because he left it to them in his will when he passed." I nod before he continues. That bit I'd already worked out. "Me and you know more than anyone just how much work it's goin' to take to get that house back to where it ought to be, let alone gettin' the ranch up and runnin' again. It's not goin' to be easy, and it isn't for the faint of heart. These men may have spent the summers of their formative years up here, but they're not small- town men and they haven't been up this way for a long, long time. We need to let them acclimatize before we barrel on in there and offer to help."
I study him for a moment before it hits me. "Do you not think they'll stick around?"
"I'm sayin' it would be a hard haul for anyone . Four grown men uprootin' their entire lives to move to small-town Alaska where their grandfather had been livin' somewhat of a reclusive, eccentric life for the past five years? Anyone would wonder whether they have the nouse to see this through."
Now I'm even more intrigued about the Cooper brothers than I was before, I'm wondering what made them decide to come here. What was going on in their lives back in the cities where they lived that was so easy to walk away from? Most people would just sell it off and split the proceeds, right?
Unless Dad is underestimating them. Maybe they have a close affinity to the land because of their grandfather and the time they spent there growing up. Could they be preppers too? Are they going to turn the place into a fortress like he was trying to do in his dying days?
Ridley could be eccentric and a little pedantic, but he was also the sweetest, kindest old man who treated us like family. Everyone from Dad's generation looked up to him because he was a man that you respected from the get-go. He didn't demand it–most of the time he didn't want it–but the Cooper name around these parts has always held a lot of power and along with that, came an inherent appreciation. Add to that the never-ending stories about the Johnsons versus the Coopers, and Ridley was almost like a rockstar.
When he came back to town five years ago after a long spell with his family in Nebraska, he became somewhat of a recluse, choosing to spend most of his time ensconced in his ranch at the base of Cooper's Ridge.
Dad and I would visit him once a week. I'd clean the house for him and whip up some batch-cooked meals to put in the freezer while he and Dad would slowly stroll around the property and talk for what seemed like hours.
I'm not sure when things changed, but for whatever reason, our visits started to get further and further apart, stretching out to two-weekly, then monthly. Then they stopped altogether at Ridley's request.
A few weeks later, Dad came to see me at the bar to tell me about Ridley's passing. At that point, we hadn't seen him for five weeks.
"I still miss him," I say with a fond smile.
"Me too, Baby Bird. Part of me likes to think he knew it was his time and that he'd done everythin' he wanted and needed to do on this earth. Even with all his kooky beliefs and the hard-to-believe stories he shared with us, he knew the land, mountain, and ranch needed to be passed on to his grandsons. Did I tell you he left me a letter?
I gasp. "No! What did it say?"
"He thanked us for bein' there for him even when he didn't want–or in his words need –help. But he appreciated it all the same, even if he was a 'grumpy fool'."
"Anyone would do what we did," I reply. "He was someone you looked up to and who you held in the highest regard. Why wouldn't we go see him and make sure he was lookin' after himself? I loved knowin' I was helpin' him, even if he'd grumble about there bein' too many vegetables in the meals." The memory makes me smile.
"It meant everythin' to him, Birdie. He didn't want to be a burden to his family–or us. All he wanted to do was live out the rest of his life on his land, the place he had always known as home, and in our own way, we helped him do that. He knew he was sick and that his days were numbered. We were able to help him through that, even if he started driftin' away toward the end."
I smile gently. "I love knowin' we could give that to him."
"Me too."
"But what does any of that have to do with his grandsons? Do we know why he gave everythin' he owned to them?"
"Nobody knows except him," Dad replies. "I have my suspicions just from what Riddles said to be over the years. One thing he wanted was for the men to discover the secrets of the family and the land for themselves. I truly believe that by givin' them the land, he was hopin' they'd find somethin' in it for themselves. However long they choose to stay there."
That idea rolls around my head for a moment. "Do you think they will stay?"
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. "I think that Riddles felt it was important enough that his grandsons come back to the land, to the ranch, and experience life in the mountains again. He never explained his reasons, but I got the feelin' that each of them was strugglin' in one way or another, and he felt the best thing for them was to get them home—to his home, anyway. This was his way of helpin' when he knew his time was up."
"It makes sense when you put it like that. Ridley wanted them to come back to their homeland—well, family land. That's because it's awesome ," I reply. "Not just Cooper Ranch, and the ridge, but Timber Falls too."
"Yes, there is that."
"You think there's more to it, don't you?" I press,
"What I think is that this move will be one of discovery and reflection. Only time will tell if they learn what Ridley wanted them to while they're here, or if they choose to return to their lives back in the cities where they came from."
"Hmm." I rub my chin, thinking about ways to welcome them to our town and help ease them into life in Timber Falls. There's no doubt about it though, I'm curious about these Cooper brothers and what they might be like.
My dad must read my expression. "Birdie…" he warns.
Holding my hands up in the air, I feign innocence. "Don't worry. I'm not goin' to do anythin', Dad."
"Mmm hmm. I've heard that before. You leave them be, at least for a little while. You always mean well, but you are not the designated Timber Falls welcomin' party and you've already got your hands full with the three jobs you've got already. You do not need another one."
"Hey, I'll have you know that I learned from the best workaholic I know." I shoot him a knowing grin. "I'm not goin' to be a busybody or anythin'. I just want them to know that us townsfolk are the friendly, helpful type and are willin' to help them out with anythin' they need. It's nothin' more than anyone else would do."
"Yes, it is, because it's you . You've got a way about you, Birdie. There's offerin' to help, and then there's you insistin' on it."
"Why thank you, Daddy-o. Wait–you mean in a good way, right?"
"Yes, dear. Of course ." I narrow my eyes at him but when he just smirks back at me, unaffected by my glare, I can't help but crack a smile.
"Right. Now, back to the real reason that I'm here." I jump to my feet and point to his computer. "Time to shut that thing down and pack up so I can get you fed before I go to the Lair."
Dad shoots me a mock salute before doing what I said. "Yes, boss."
I dip my head. "Good to know you remember the real hierarchy in this place." Ironic since Dad's literally the boss of the town .
"C'mon," he says, walking around the desk with his messenger bag hooked over his shoulder. "Let's go home and try this prune dish."
"It's twice-cooked oxtail stew with prunes, tomatoes, and carrots," I correct him.
"Yeah, that. Delicious ."
I sigh. "It's good for you, Dad."
"Mmm hmm."
"One day, you'll learn," I mutter.
He hooks an arm around me before pulling me into his side. "Until then, I've got you to look after me. Love ya, Baby Bird."
"Love you too," I grumble. But it's half-hearted at best because I do it with a huge smile. Meaning it's not really a grumble at all.
Parents!