Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The Ranch
Muddy moved around the honey-oaked kitchen with red and white checkered curtains. It smelled like nutmeg and strong coffee.
“Okay, sugar, start talking.” She went to the stove to grab the old copper tea kettle.
“Oh, where should I start?” I asked. “There’s so much.”
“Well, let’s start with the fact that I wasn’t supposed to see you until Labor Day weekend for Hadley and Salem’s joint baby shower. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I’m guessing this was an impromptu visit?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Well, I guess I should start at the beginning then.”
“Yeah, you should. Also explain why you decided not to call me.”
“One thing at a time.” I laughed, but then immediately sobered. “I quit my job a few days ago. And Wyn suggested I fly out to Huckleberry Hill.”
Muddy filled the tea kettle at the sink. “Go on.”
“My grandfather is on sabbatical in England for the semester and he’s renting his house in Bay Ridge to the professor who took over his class schedule, so there was no way I could hole up there and wallow.
And the Russian models in the New York apartment that are subletting Hadley and Salem’s room are lovely, but they party like rockstars.
Not the best environment for wallowing, either. So I decided to come out here early.”
“You know you’re always welcome. Any time.”
Her comment warmed my insides. “But I didn’t tell Hadley and Salem that I was coming because they would insist that I stay at the house.”
“As you should.” She turned on the stove burner and set the tea kettle to boil.
“Yeah, except there’s no room. And you know there’s no room. And since I’m going to be in town—clearly—for an extended period of time, I thought crashing at The Regal Beagle was a good idea.”
“You just quit your job. Do you think staying at the most expensive place in town is a wise financial decision?”
“Definitely not,” I said. “But it was the only option.”
“No, it wasn’t. We can make space for you here. The den—we can move one of the trundles from upstairs.”
“You all keep really early hours,” I pointed out. “So even if I did make the den my makeshift bedroom, a five a.m. wakeup call is not my idea of a fun time.”
“Valid point, sugar,” she admitted. “I still don’t like the idea of you staying at The Regal Beagle. It’s a lovely place, but it feels wrong not having you stay with us. But it is what it is, I guess. Who picked you up from the airport?”
“I rented a car. I got my license. Didn’t Salem or Hadley tell you?”
“They did. Congratulations. You rented a car, eh? Why did Brooks bring you to the Ridge, then?”
“Last night, I was driving to The Regal Beagle, and I wound up in a ditch.”
“Poet!”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Everything’s fine. The car is at Sandusky’s. Brooks came to my rescue. He was on his way to The Regal Beagle last night because his RV is being worked on.”
“Yes, I know about his RV.”
“He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I refused. Because I was fine. No headaches, nothing, I swear.”
“I see,” she murmured.
“I really am fine,” I assured her. “But those moose crossing signs are no joke. A mama and her baby trekked across the road. I didn’t want to hit them, so I swerved and that’s how I wound up in the ditch.”
“I’m glad you—and they—weren’t hurt. So what are you going to do while you’re in town?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I have an idea. You can help me around here.”
“Help you how?” I frowned. “I’m a city girl. I don’t have the slightest idea of how a ranch works.”
“You can help me in the garden,” she suggested. “We’ve had a warm summer, so everything kind of exploded. I’m going to need an extra set of hands to help pick all the veggies and then purée, chop, and can them. What do you think? Would you be up for helping me?”
“I suppose I can do that,” I said. “Canning’s not really in my wheelhouse either, but hey, I’m down to learn something new.”
“And while we’re doing that, I was thinking you could jot down some recipes for me.”
“Recipes?” I asked.
“Yes. People have been after me for years to write a cookbook. Might as well give ’em what they want. I just haven’t had the time or inclination to organize all my thoughts and put all my recipes in one place. But maybe you can help with that?”
I gasped. “You’re going to give away your trade secrets?”
“I’m not going to live forever, contrary to popular belief. It would be nice to have something on record, you know.”
“I’d love to help you do that,” I said with a smile. “It would give me some purpose while I figure out my next step.”
“All right, well, glad to hear it. But seriously, sugar—you can’t stay at The Regal Beagle for the next week and a half. That’s just not good sense, and you know it.”
“No, you’re right. I only have a hundred dollars to my name anyway,” I muttered. “No need to rack up a huge credit card bill in the interim. Thank God Brooks loaned me the money to fix the rental car.”
“Why would you need—didn’t you have coverage for that?”
“No.”
She shot me a look, and I squirmed in my seat. “I know, it was irresponsible, but I didn’t think I’d need it.”
“You never do.”
The kettle began to whistle, and she quickly moved it off the heated burner and turned off the stove.
“So you agree that staying at The Regal Beagle long-term isn’t a good idea?”
“Long-term?” I said with a laugh. “How long do you expect me to be here?”
“Well, I don’t know. People have a habit of coming here for a visit and realizing that Huckleberry Hill has everything they’ve been looking for all along. You could just do us all a favor and admit you’re going to stay.”
“Stay and do what?”
“That’s for you to figure out, sugar. Speaking of figuring things out, what’s going on with you and Brooks?”
“What do you mean?”
“Playing it that way, are you? Fine.” She went to a cabinet and opened it. “Earl Grey, ginger, oolong . . .?”
“You’re staying for dinner, yes?” Muddy stood up, grabbed our empty mugs, and put them in the sink.
“Oh,” I said. “I hadn’t thought much about it.”
“You’ll stay,” Muddy insisted.
“I don’t know . . .”
Muddy frowned when she looked at me and then she smiled. “Brooks is invited too.”
“Oh yeah, I don’t think he’d feel comfortable with that. You know—the whole boss and employee thing.”
“Yeah, he’s very clear on that divide. But if you two are dating, then it’s less about boss-employee and more like boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“Muddy, are you crazy? Dating? I just met him!”
“You just met him,” Muddy repeated. “Right. And he’s already paying for your car repairs. I don’t know, Poet. I feel like something’s going on there.”
Something was definitely going on there.
“You’re frowning up a storm.”
“Just thinking,” I said.
“About?”
I didn’t want to tell her what I was truly thinking about Brooks, so I fibbed. “New York. And my life. What’s left of it, anyway.”
“Ah.”
“There’s Wyn,” I said. “But the family she nannies for offered her a room to move into. She’ll probably do it because she’s there all the time anyway. But my grandfather is in England and won’t be back for months.”
“Sounds like they have lives of their own,” she said gently. “And maybe for the first time, you’ll get to focus on yours.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you spent a lot of time in a job that made you very unhappy, and it was your entire life. Now you get to think about what makes you happy. And maybe, moving to Huckelberry Hill isn’t such a bad idea.”
“Oh, I see what this is really about,” I said with a wry grin.
Muddy smiled. “I’m not gonna lie. I’m selfish. Hadley and Salem are very happy, but they’re never as happy as when the four of you are together. You have a special friendship. I haven’t seen anything like it before. The four of you—I see you all being friends into your old age.”
“Whoa, getting ahead of ourselves a little bit, aren’t we?”
“Poet, my girls love you; I love you, and you’re family now. So take that for what it is.”
Her words warmed my heart. I had my own family—my grandfather—and my grandmother when she was alive. But this felt different. This wasn’t blood. This was something created. Something chosen.
“Who would’ve thought that when Hadley and Salem moved in with Wyn and I that this incredible friendship would form?” I asked. “We’re really lucky.”
“You are. I’m just saying there might be more than one reason to stay in Huckleberry Hill.”
“And would one of those reasons be Brooks?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I like him. He’s quiet. He doesn’t seem to smile a lot or talk that much, but he’s diligent—and he’s definitely loyal.”
“Loyal? How do you know that?”
She peered at me. “He went to prison.”
“I know. Salem told me. She didn’t tell me why he went to prison, though.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know why.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “You know, right? Otherwise, you’d never have hired him.”
She tapped her nose a few times in confirmation. “And Brooks hasn’t told the full story?”
“No. He only just told me he was an ex-con.”
“And was he shocked you already knew?”
“Shocked is the wrong word. More surprised that I knew and didn’t treat him any differently.”
“I’m sure he appreciated that. People judge.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “When I look at him, I don’t see an ex-con.”
“There’s more to him than meets the eye, that’s for sure,” she said. “There’s more to you than meets the eye too. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
I fell silent, pondering her words. It only made me more curious about Brooks’ past.
“You won’t tell me, will you? About why he went to prison.”
“Not for me to tell.” She smiled. “There’s a pair of riding boots in Hadley’s closet. Why don’t you change into them and ask Brooks to take you for a trail ride, and we’ll do dinner another night.”
“You sure?”
Muddy nodded. “I’m sure. How about we do dinner when they get back from Cas’ event? It’ll be like a welcome-home dinner.”
“But I’m not coming home,” I said.
She smiled. “Aren’t you?”