Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re late,” Barbara snapped when Cal walked up her porch steps with the missing items from her weekly grocery order the following day, after dropping Austin off at the airport in Jackson Hole.
“I told you I’d be by around three.” Jaw tightening, Cal’s fingers clenched on the handles of his shopping bags. “It’s two fifteen.”
His mom harrumphed.
She sat on a rocker on the porch, people-watching from her throne—or maybe just waiting for him, because at two fifteen on a Friday, there wasn’t much activity happening on her street.
She looked better almost two weeks after her fall. It would take a little longer for her to heal completely, but her movements were easier and her eyes weren’t creased in pain.
“I’ll put these away,” he said, stepping into the house.
“And then you’ll pull the weeds out of the garden.” It wasn’t a question. “I haven’t been able to bend down to do it myself.”
“Can’t,” Cal called from the kitchen, raising his voice so it carried out the screen door. “I’ve got to get back to the ranch.”
“The ranch.” The venom with which Barbara said those two words raised the hairs on the back of Cal’s neck. “It’s always about the ranch with you.”
Suddenly bone-weary, and not because of yesterday’s late night with Austin, Cal sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s my job, Mom.”
“Those Windsor-Marches. Think they’re better than everyone because they’re great-great-whatever founded this town.”
Cal stared toward the front door and thought of Whitney Windsor-March and how she often got right into ranch work, getting her hands dirty just like the rest of them. Thought too of Derek March, giggling helplessly over his Have a beary Christmas social media holiday greeting that he’d posted with a picture of a grizzly bear last Christmas. And of Las and Alice, the former who was determined to make the ranch sustainable and the latter who worked so hard to ensure the guests had a nice time.
“They’re really not like that,” Cal said hoarsely. “They’re some of the nicest, most down-to-earth people you’ll ever meet.”
And the most supportive too. Cal didn’t know many ranch owners who wouldn’t have automatically shut down his idea of a ranching co-op.
“Sponsoring the Saturday market,” Barbara went on, as though Cal hadn’t spoken. “And that community spirit award thing. Splashing their name all over town to make the rest of us feel like underlings.”
She kept going, spewing hatred and poison faster than Cal could keep up.
Gritting his teeth, Cal didn’t bother speaking up in defense of the Windsor-Marches again. It wouldn’t make a difference; he might as well save himself the breath and the frustration.
He knew the truth, and that was enough.
He put the groceries away as fast as he could manage, bundled the reusable bags under his arm, and strode outside.
“I’ve put everything away,” he said, interrupting a tirade about the uselessness of the ranch’s monthly dance parties. “I’ll be back tomorrow to deal with the weeds.”
“And I’ll need the grass cut and that tree over there trimmed,” she called to his retreating back. “And I have a few things that need to go to the dry cleaners. But not the one in town. They ruined my favorite dress last month. Drop them off at the cleaners in Jackson Hole.”
“If the dry cleaning can wait, I’ll be in Jackson Hole next weekend to pick up Austin from the airport. I can drop it off at the same time. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”
“Pah. Austin. Of course, you’ll make the trip when he asks, but when I ask for one favor?—”
“Stop. Just... stop.” Steps from his truck, Cal closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he continued on to twenty when ten wasn’t enough. Slowly, he turned to face his mom. “Those are my employers you’ve been insulting since I arrived, as well as my best friend and partner.”
She sucked in a breath at partner , likely because Cal hadn’t told her about him and Austin. Why would he? They didn’t have the kind of relationship where they talked about things that actually mattered.
“I frankly don’t care how you feel about them,” he said quietly enough for her to have to lean forward to hear him. “But if you want me to help with your groceries or your laundry or your yard work or anything else ever again, I expect you to keep your opinions to yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He got in his car and drove away before she could say anything else.
His mood when he arrived at the ranch was sour. He was hungry too, bordering on hangry, since he’d skipped lunch to drive Austin to the airport. But at this time of the day, the lunch spread that was usually set out for the ranch hands would’ve already been cleaned up, so he was shit out of luck. Not in the kind of head space that boded well for dealing with people, he ensconced himself in his office in the barn to finish administrative tasks he’d been neglecting.
Of course, dealing with spreadsheets and the ranch’s farm management software didn’t help his mood and only served to annoy him further. He was annoyed with his mom for being the way she was, with himself for being stuck here, with Austin for leaving?—
Wait, no. He wasn’t annoyed with Austin. Austin had to go. Hell, Cal had told him as much. That job at the photography school was tailor-made for him. Obviously, he had to go to Norway to check it out.
And he wasn’t annoyed with himself either. He wasn’t stuck here. He liked it here. Liked his job, the people he worked for and with, and contributing to something that mattered. He was useful here and his ideas were valued.
He’d spent his entire life trying to get his mom to see him, to acknowledge that he mattered, to admit that she appreciated everything he did for her.
On the ranch, all he had to do was show up for work and he was automatically seen as worthy.
So why was he still trying with Barbara? Why did he always feel guilty when he let her down? Was it because, at his core, he didn’t want to be her? He didn’t want to be someone who used and used and used and never gave back. Didn’t want to be someone who never showed appreciation.
Or was it, simply, because he was a better person than her?
Had she felt any guilt when she’d shipped him off to live with the father he barely knew?
“You look particularly gloomy today.” Las appeared in his doorway and lounged on the doorjamb, hands shoved in his pockets, cowboy hat shading his eyes. Didn’t hide the smirk on his face though. “Is it because Austin’s away? I’ll remind you that you were the one who scolded me for being mopey when Marco had to fly back east last summer. You said, and I quote, ‘You’re crying because your boyfriend’s going to be out of town for two days?’ So. I say to you: you’re crying because your boyfriend’s going to be out of town for a week?”
Before Cal could retort that he hadn’t been thinking about Austin, Las continued.
“You could’ve gone with him, you know.”
“Uh...” Cal blinked at him. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s work to do.”
Las scoffed. “This is a ranch. There’s always work to do. But you’ve got vacation days that I know for a fact you haven’t used yet. So? Use ’em.”
Cal ducked his head, concentrating on his work. “Your mom would never approve a last-minute week off just so I can join my boyfriend in Europe.”
“Did you ask?”
“I don’t have to ask to know what she’ll say.”
Las rolled his eyes. “Idiot. Don’t assume. If you don’t want to ask her, I will.”
“Wha—”
“Hey, Mom?”
“Hm?” came Whitney’s easy reply as she approached, steaming mug of coffee in one hand, hair bundled into a messy bun at the back of her head.
“You know Austin went to Norway for a photography thing, right?” Las said.
“Is that why it’s so quiet around here? No Austin MacIsaac to darken my doorstep?”
She said it so fondly that Cal couldn’t help but laugh.
Las jerked his thumb at Cal. “He was wondering if he could join him.”
“I wasn’t, actually,” Cal said with a glare for Las.
“Well, we’re on hold with Las’s project until the material arrives to build the cells.” Whitney leaned on the doorjamb opposite from Las. “As long as the rest of your responsibilities are distributed among the hands, I don’t have a problem with you taking the week off. In fact, I encourage it considering how long it’s been since you’ve taken a vacation. When was the last time you took any significant time off? Two winters ago? Three?”
“Dude.” Las met his glare with one of his own. “There is such a thing called burnout.”
Suddenly feeling defensive, Cal glared harder. “I like my job.”
Las’s glared turned epic, pitting them in a glare-on that was possibly the most ridiculous thing ever. “Even people who like their jobs experience burnout. Take the vacation. Go play tourist with Austin. I’ll bring Gwen, Ewan, and Orson in here and we can divvy up the most important of your responsibilities between us and give the rest to the less experienced hands.” He tilted his head toward Whitney. “And Mom will take over any admin stuff.”
Whitney nodded.
Cal stared at them both, not ready to believe what they were saying. “You’ve lost your minds. I can’t just leave. I have things to do. Plus, I need to start working on that proposal.”
Las looked between him and his mom. “Proposal for what?”
“It’s not a rush, Cal,” Whitney said gently. “We won’t see those cost savings that will allow us to buy into the co-op for a while.”
“Co-op?” Las asked. “What co-op?”
“Go,” Whitney said to Cal. “Take the week. Have fun. I promise, the ranch won’t fall apart without you.”
“No, of course it won’t. That’s not...” Cal trailed off and dragged a hand down his face. He wasn’t sure what his issue was, exactly. The prospect of joining Austin in Norway filled him with nothing but excitement, his mouth going dry and his belly filling with anticipation and adrenaline.
So what was his problem?
“What about my mom?”
“What about her?” Las asked.
“She had a fall recently, didn’t she?” Whitney crossed her legs at the ankles. “Does she still need help around the house?”
Cal thought about the help she needed and the help she wanted, but given her injuries, they were currently one and the same. “She can’t stand for long, so mostly she needs help with cooking.”
There was house and yard work too, but he could handle that before his flight.
“Actually,” Cal added slowly. “I should be able to prep enough meals for the week and freeze them, and I can have The General Store deliver her grocery order.”
“I can stop by her house when I’m in town,” Whitney offered, toasting him with her mug. “Make sure she doesn’t need anything.”
Cal forced himself not to grimace as he recalled his mother’s vitriol from earlier. “You don’t have to do that.”
Whitney smiled. “I don’t mind. I’m in town a few times a week anyway.”
“So?” Las crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s it going to be?”
Las and Whitney stared at him expectantly. In the end, with Whitney’s blessing and Las’s assurance that everything would be taken care of, what else could Cal do but agree?
“Go get Gwen, Ewan, and Orson,” he told Las, “while I book my flight.”
“Fine. But after, I want to know more about this co-op.”
Chuckling, Cal pulled out his credit card.