Chapter Three
Jake studied the pictures along the fireplace mantle, waiting for Peony to come back.
He flexed his hand, still feeling tense, but remembering Liz’s firm grip as they shook hands.
Her eyes were a unique shade of blue, reminding him of sapphires, and her voice was sexy and firm, like a smooth, aged whiskey.
His head had emptied of any sort of intelligent, witty response when she’d spoken.
Why he’d had that response, he wasn’t sure, because now was definitely not the time to be even contemplating anything to do with attraction to another person.
She wasn’t posh or polished in any way either, was completely unlike the type of woman he was normally intrigued by.
But there it was. He ran a hand down his face and chalked it up to a long drive and a strange situation.
Pictures of his father and a myriad of horses were the focus in many of the frames. A wedding shot of Peony and Brett was there too, with a much younger Liz with piled-up hair, wearing some lace concoction, standing in front of them.
Another picture off to the other side was of a beautiful, auburn-haired woman sitting on a log with two teenaged boys, all of them in very nicely knitted sweaters, the fall leaves surrounding them.
They must be his brothers, he thought. He picked up the picture beside it, with just the mom sitting on the log, looking back and forth between the two pictures.
He didn’t recognize himself in either boy.
“Her name was Veronica. She was my mother,” a voice said from behind him.
Jake looked up and put the picture back quickly before doing a double take. Standing in the door was a more weathered version of himself, tall, dark haired and dark eyed, dressed in worn-out jeans and a dark-blue flannel shirt, holding a brimmed hat in his hands.
“Jake West,” Jake said, walking toward the man, hand outstretched.
“I know who you are,” he snapped, not taking Jake’s hand. Jake dropped it, sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere that had entered the room with the other man.
They eyed one another, neither of them moving, and Jake knew he had been measured and found wanting. This guy was the real deal, and right now, he probably resented the hell out of Jake for even existing. Jake had faced down restaurant critics who had been less intimidating.
“Tanner West!” Peony admonished the man as she returned, carrying a tray with a pitcher and stacked glasses. “I know you’re upset, but don’t you be rude to our guest.”
Tanner’s flinty gaze turned from Jake and softened slightly. “Sorry. I’m on edge. We didn’t kn—”
“You must be Jake!”
Jake turned to see another man bound into the living room, a smile on his face. He was a bit shorter than Tanner and had auburn hair, like his mother in the photo. “I’m Brady, the baby.”
Jake smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” It was an honest statement. At least one of these men wasn’t being an asshole. He was thankful for that.
“Frank’s taking a quick phone call,” Brady said as he flopped onto a chair and put his hat on his knee.
Peony handed him a glass of tea, and he poured it down his throat in one smooth motion.
Jake put his hands in his pockets. He felt like an interloper.
This family was obviously close, had lived here their whole life. He was . . .
Well, he didn’t belong here. At all. Peony handed him a glass of tea, and he nodded in appreciation.
“Thank you.”
“So, Jake. Frank tells me you’re a chef in New York City?” Peony said, sitting on the sofa and balancing her own glass, her eyes focused in on him. He nodded as he took a sip of his tea.
“Yes. Just sold my restaurant in Greenpoint.”
“Oh, is that a nice area?” she asked politely. “Whereabouts is that in the city?”
“Brooklyn.”
Silence followed. Neither of the other two men had said another word, but they were watching him like hawks. He shifted on his feet and wondered where in hell the lawyer and Liz had gone. Anything to break up the tension in the room.
“How long have you lived there?” Peony continued, her eyes flitting to his brothers. She was uncomfortable, too, but trying her best to be a good hostess. The strangeness of his presence intensified.
“Most of my life. My mother and I moved back there when I was three, I think? We lived in Washington Heights for a while and moved to Brooklyn when I was a teen.”
“Yes, I think I remember Heather,” Peony said quietly. “Red hair, snapping green eyes, voice like cracked glass?”
“That would be her,” he said, surprised. “How did you know her?”
“I grew up in Brightside. Your mother was quite a newsmaker back in the day,” Peony said, a hint of humor in her voice as she winked.
Before Jake could ask Peony to explain, Tanner let out a frustrated-sounding growl and peered out the closest window, flicking the curtain back with an irritated gesture.
Jake got the distinct impression from the way Tanner was fussing that he didn’t take kindly to waiting, or imposition of any kind.
“Where the hell is Frank?” Tanner added, pacing to the front hallway. Jake watched his newfound brother’s jaw flex, noticing the similarity to himself. He was brought right back to earth about why he was here, and how much of a shock it was for everyone concerned.
“Mrs. West,” Jake started, but Peony waved her hand, and he stopped.
“Call me Peony, please, my dear. You’re family now.”
Another angry sigh from Tanner threw doubt on that, but Jake let it slide and smiled at the woman. He noticed the exhaustion on her face, the slight tremor.
“Truthfully, this is a shock to me.” He moved over and sat on a large ottoman beside her. Peony reached out, patted his leg, and shook her head.
“I know,” she said quietly, then leaned in. “Brett told me about you, about a year ago. I didn’t believe him at first. But—”
She stopped and pursed her lips together, looking down at her hands and taking a breath. When she looked up, Jake blinked. Gone was the humor, replaced by something he couldn’t place. Grief? Maybe regret? It was hard to tell, but it was obviously sad.
“He never once told either of those boys. They found out about you today.”
Brady, who’d been listening in, nodded.
“I gotta say, you’re quite a surprise, New York. Dad never once spoke about you or Heather. So . . . yeah.”
“I didn’t know about you either,” Jake said honestly, looking over at the younger man, raising an eyebrow at Brady’s automatic assignment of a nickname. “I don’t remember my father, and my mother never talked about him other than to say . . . well, let’s not go there right now.”
Brady looked up then and levered himself out of the chair.
Jake stood as the clomp of boots on the floor signaled more people were joining them.
An older man, whom he assumed was the lawyer, came in, with Liz behind him.
Liz was attempting to hide her tension, the work gloves in her hand clenched in a death grip the only giveaway.
He watched her eyes flit over her brothers before she made her way to her mother, gently sitting down beside her.
She was protective of them. For good reason, right now.
“Ah, Jake. You made it,” Frank said, and stepped quickly to him, pumping his hand as they shook. “Good flight?”
“Yes, thanks,” he replied, and Frank smiled.
“Good, good. I won’t take up much more of your time. Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Everyone but Tanner settled in chairs and on the sofa. Liz was holding her mother’s hand, Brady sank back into his armchair, and Frank sat down on another tall-backed chair, setting his briefcase on the coffee table in front of him.
Tanner leaned on the fireplace, arms folded, eyes glittering with animosity.
Jake pulled up another chair from the side of the room for himself and sat, holding his glass of tea in his hands for something to do with them.
He sensed the awkward, strange tension again.
It was as if he was watching a movie unfold around him, was a mere spectator.
“Okay. Brett, in confidence, contacted me about a year ago to give me his will and set up all his funeral costs.”
Jake glanced at Peony, who had closed her eyes, and his heart lurched for her. She must have gone through hell with all this. All of them, really, but it seemed to have taken a toll on her. He looked back as Frank cleared his throat.
“Brett had cancer. He didn’t want to burden any of you with it, so he asked me not to say anything. We talked about this already, but Jake here, he’s not aware of many details.”
“Get to it, Frank. We’ve got a ranch to run,” Tanner said, and shifted his stance at the fireplace. “You can fill him in after.”
Frank nodded. “Fine, fine. So, Brett also asked me to reach out to Jake, but only after he had passed away. He was firm on that part, so I didn’t question why. I honestly thought he’d told you boys, and Liz here, about him, but I guess not, and now here we are.”
An irritated noise from Tanner made them all look his way, but with one shoulder leaned on the fireplace and his arms crossed tightly, it was obvious he was frustrated at the entire situation when he looked away from them to glare into the hearth. Frank pulled out a thick envelope and continued.
“I was instructed to only read the will once Jake was back on West Line Ranch soil. So, thank you, Jake for making the trip on such short notice for the sake of a formality.”
Jake nodded silently, noting the raised eyebrows on Brady, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was a long way to come for a formality, even if Jake hadn’t minded. Plus, he’d had two days to get used to knowing he had brothers, and what was happening. They’d had an hour, tops.
Jake watched as Frank broke the seal on the envelope, looking around at each of the other people in the room as he did.
It must be a thing in Canada that wills were sealed, not that he’d ever been at a will reading before.
He waited, the uncomfortable anticipation sneaking up his back and roiling his stomach.
He wasn’t entitled to one thing here, and he didn’t want to take anything away from anyone else.
He’d already resolved that if he was left money or some sort of belongings, he would give it back.
He’d never known his father, and his father had never tried to find him or his mother.
Even during the lean years, when they had little to no money, his father had never been there.
When Jake was younger, that had hurt. But he’d long ago given up the bitterness that came with the hurt, mostly so he could move on and make something for himself.
It was what it was. So, in that vein, he’d also given up any right to have a piece of what his father had left behind.
“All right. I was instructed that another firm other than mine had vetted the legality of this will, and, as executor, I was not to open the envelope until now. I followed the instructions, but last week I did contact my colleague who worked on the file, and he verified for me that this is all aboveboard. So, let me scan this quickly, folks, before I read it out, so I can explain it if you have questions.”
Nods all around, and Jake watched Frank settle his glasses on his nose, scanning the document quickly, his hands moving down the page. But then Frank stopped, his face blanching, and he took his glasses off again, rubbing his eyes.
“Holy shit, Brett,” he muttered, and looked up, directly at Tanner, who was now watching the lawyer with the same scrutiny he had offered Jake earlier.
“Frank . . .” Tanner stated ominously.
“I’m so sorry, Tanner. So truly sorry,” Frank said, laying the papers down on top of his briefcase.
Brady shot to his feet just as Peony breathed in, one hand settling on her chest. Liz turned to her mother, then swiveled to Tanner, then looked at Jake. He caught the concern and worry in her eyes, the stiffness she was holding in. You could slice the stress in the room with a knife.
“Tell us,” Peony said quietly, steel in her voice even as her hand shook. “What has that fool old man has gone and done, Frank?”
Frank cleared his throat twice before he could speak. He looked directly at Peony and placed both hands flat on the papers. They were shaking slightly.
“He’s left the entire operation to Jake.”