CHAPTER 10
Cal
Phyllis makes eye contact with me as she puts down the tray and walks toward Victoria. “How about I show you around the outside?” she asks our unwelcome invader.
Talk about an infestation…
“We could go on a walk around the house, maybe see the wildflowers. It’s too early in the season for the garden to be in full bloom, but the early wildflowers are wonderful.”
“That sounds nice,” Victoria says.
I nod, grateful to Phyllis. Her intuition is flawless. She always knows what needs to happen next. Technically, she’s our aunt, the second wife of Dad’s late brother. She’s been our housekeeper and cook and part of the family ever since Mom died when I was fifteen.
Those were dark days. I was an enraged and heartbroken teenager back then, unable to process Mom’s death and feeling I was somehow responsible for it.
There were many times that I was on the verge of making the kind of mistakes that you can never take back.
But Phyllis was there, talking sense into me.
I would listen to her when no one or nothing else could get through to me.
Sometimes I think she knows all of us MacLaine men better than we know ourselves. I’m who I am today because of Phyllis.
She smiles at me and takes Victoria out back. I watch them leave and wait to hear their voices fade into the outdoors. Then I turn to Dad. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
“I’m just exploring options, son.”
Dad glances at Arlo, and something passes between them. Even though I can't quite put my finger on what that something is, I know that I’d prefer to have this conversation in private.
“Hey, Arlo, do you mind if I talk with Dad for a few minutes?”
“Of course!” Arlo grabs his briefcase. “I'll be down at the office if you need me for anything.”
I watch him walk through the foyer and out the front door. I keep my eye on him as he crosses the front drive and makes his way down to the new horse barn, where the ranch business offices are located.
It strikes me that Arlo’s walking slower than usual today.
He appears slightly stooped too. It’s the first time I’ve noticed this, but it’s not exactly a shock.
He's got to be well into his seventies by now, at least a decade older than Dad. Arlo’s worked for the MacLaines since Grandfather was around, and stayed on when Dad inherited the ranch operations.
That means Arlo’s been here far longer than I’ve been alive.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, son? I’m not sure Phyllis’s iced tea is gonna cut it.”
I don’t want coffee and I don’t want tea. But maybe a friendly sit-down will make the conversation easier. “Sure, Dad.”
We walk into the kitchen. I watch him prepare the coffee. As he gets out two mugs, I tell myself that this won’t be an argument. I don’t argue with my dad. Sometimes I'd like to, but I never do, because he raised me better than that.
I have unlimited respect for Jamie MacLaine, his work ethic, and the dedication he has always shown his family.
He’s a man of integrity who lives by the golden rule.
What I don’t respect is his business acumen, which is why I need to get to the bottom of what Victoria Backlund and her company want with any part of the ranch.
I peek out the kitchen window to be sure Phyllis and Victoria aren’t on their way back.
Dad slides a mug of steaming coffee across the island’s granite countertop, then perches on a stool opposite me. I take a sip and dive right into the matter at hand.
“This can’t be about money, right?” I ask.
He stares into his mug. “It’s about planning for the future.”
“The future is taking care of itself, Dad. StellaR Tech is going gangbusters. Evander is revising the final proposal on a three-year, seven-hundred-million-dollar contract. But you know all that. You know that whatever you or the ranch need, we’ve got you covered.”
He nods, then looks up at me. His eyes are puffy and tired.
A shot of fear goes through me. Did he forget about the business and the contract details? Is he starting to lose his grip on day-to-day stuff? I watch him carefully. “Are you all right, Dad?”
He laughs, then takes a giant slurp of coffee. “I’m fine. My cheese remains firmly in the center of my damn cracker, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried, I’m just—”
“I’m not going to live forever, you know.”
I straighten. “What do you mean?”
“I’m perfectly healthy. It’s just that I’m getting older. I thought if I looked into selling part of the land, the proceeds would give you a bit of a cushion after I’m gone, so that ranching won’t be such a struggle for you.”
“Dad—”
“Hear me out, Callum.” He holds up a hand, palm facing me. “I love you boys. And when this Empowered company called me, I figured it might be good for you to have options in the future, options I never had. Money to do whatever you want.”
“We already have that.”
“But it’s my job, as your father, to leave you something.
Arlo and I have been talking lately about how the ranch business has been unpredictable year-to-year, decade-to-decade.
Land values are more volatile than ever.
But if we make a bunch of money selling Sulfur Springs when the market is hot, you’ll have the cash socked away for a rainy day.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that there will always be a rainy day. ”
I blink. This is about his pride, then, not his health. And not some business misstep he’s made without telling me. All that’s a relief. But still, it’s crazy talk. “You’re not going anywhere for a long time, Dad.”
“You don’t know that, Cal. Nobody ever knows. Not for them and not for those they love.”
Thud.
We sit like that, Mom’s death like a giant black ball of sadness between us. I think I see tears in Dad’s eyes. It’s been many years since we lost her to lung cancer. But the pain is still there, ready to strike.
“Anyway,” Dad waves it off because that’s his way.
If there was a photo illustration of the word “stoic” in the dictionary, it would be the face of James Lynch MacLaine.
“What I’m telling you, son, is that this is a totally reasonable and rational consideration.
That’s it. Nothing more dramatic or over the top. I’m just considering my options.”
I nod in silence.
“You think you can work with your old dad on this? Give it a week? Let Miss Backlund hang around for a while and hear her best offer? It might be that after spending a few days here, she’ll discover it’s not a good fit for Renaissance Eternity.”
“Empowered.”
“Stupid name for a company.”
“You got that right.”
I want to tell him no. That under no circumstances will I ever agree to selling an inch of Yosemite Ranch, the MacLaine homestead.
It’s been our family history since the first generation emigrated from Scotland and took the deadly journey west to build a life for themselves.
But I don’t tell my father that. He’s asked me to do something, so I’ll do it. Like always.
“We’ll give it a week, Dad. But just one week. And then we’ll see where we are.”
“All right, then.” Dad raises his mug and I raise mine and we clink them together. “One week it is.”
“Knock, knock!” Phyllis sticks her head in the back door, checking that the coast is clear. Victoria is behind her.
“How was your walk?” Dad rises from the stool, sounding cheerful and friendly, as if he hadn’t just been plotting to sell the land out from under me.
“It’s stunning here!” Victoria steps inside, her cheeks rosy from the fresh air and her hair wild again. It seems she’s in a constant battle to keep the thick auburn waves in check. “And the wildflowers! I had no idea they could go on for miles like this!”
I’ve already risen from my stool, and I’m standing in the living room, frozen like an elk in the crosshairs. There’s an awkward silence, and Dad is staring at me, his expression a mix of confusion and wonder.
“Oh,” I say, glancing at Phyllis and Victoria. “That’s nice.”
My dad clears his throat. “So, Cal was just saying that he’s ready to get you settled over at his place.”
“Okay. Sure. We’ll talk later then, Mr. MacLaine.”
“Call me Jamie. And I hope you don’t mind if I call you Victoria.”
“I’d like that.”
As I hold open the front door for first-name-basis Victoria, I look over my shoulder. Dad winks at me.