Chapter Seven
Grace stormed past Sam Barker’s receptionist and the plastic No Guns Allowed sign on the counter. Sam probably had a lot of good reasons to post that sign.
“You can’t go in there, miss,” squeaked a voice behind her.
Grace ignored the pretty, young receptionist and barged into the office.
“What the heck, Sam. You’re foreclosing on my property?”
A small man with slicked-back hair and a shiny suit looked up from his desk. Recognition flickered through his beady snake eyes; eyes that inched from Grace’s face to her jade blouse and stuck there until Grace crossed her arms over her chest.
“Grace Harper.” A thin smile spread over his lips. “Please, have a seat.” He stood, all five foot two of him, suddenly looking even smaller behind his behemoth desk. He stretched his hand out, indicating the two wooden chairs in front of his desk. “I thought you were in New York,” he said innocently. “When did you get in?”
Grace rolled her eyes. Innocent didn’t work on Sam Barker. “We both know you shop at the Stop-n-Gas.” And everyone who grew up in their little town of Washoe City came there for the gossip, not the groceries.
He chuckled. “Yes, well, who doesn’t?” He puckered his lips into a pout. “Please, sit.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on. The ranch is mine now, and I want to sell it. Apparently”—she tilted her head—“that’s not possible in its current status.”
Sam sat neatly in his fake-leather chair. “Your father was behind on his payments, Grace.”
“How far behind?” She tapped her foot, hoping Mr. Lincoln had gotten the figure wrong. “I’ll catch it up. I can write a check for five thousand dollars right now.” It’d drain her super-emergency fund, but she’d replenish it once the ranch sold. “And if you give me time, I can get more.” But how? Maybe a temporary loan from Spencer—very temporary. No, she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to be dependent on him or anyone.
Whatever. She’d figure it out later.
“You have a month.”
Her foot froze mid tap.
“We’ve already given time, Grace. Almost a year’s worth.”
A prickly feeling spidered up her leg, her spine, her neck. She eased herself down into the chair. “A year?”
“Your father was twenty-six thousand dollars behind on his mortgage payments. I know he was having hard times, some medical issues, and we tried to work with him, but I could only do so much. I’m sorry.” The sentiment stopped before it reached his eyes.
She blinked, several times, but still couldn’t see anything but red. Twenty-six thousand dollars. Could she borrow against JJ’s social security benefits? Unlikely. And it wouldn’t be enough, anyway. Her stomach twisted and cramped. “Tell me, Sam, even if I could catch up on the payments and then sell the ranch, would there be any equity? Would I get anything back?”
Sam slithered around his desk and sat in the seat next to her. He reeked of hair gel and cheap cologne. “Enough to pay off the back taxes.”
Her mouth went dry. “That’s it?” She tried to swallow and almost choked on the sandpaper taste.
“Afraid so. If I were you, I’d try to hang on to it,” he said. “Property values are on the rebound. If you can catch up on the payments and keep it for awhile, there’s a chance we could work something out with you, refinance and lower your payments.” His knee rubbed against hers. “Maybe there’s something at the ranch you could part with. I got a friend looking for a tractor.”
“A ten-year-old tractor won’t bring much.”
Sam shrugged. “Every little bit helps. Your father understood that.”
She inhaled and held her breath. The horses. Noah hadn’t told her they were sold off because her father needed the money. Did he not know? He knew everything else that happened at the ranch.
“Didn’t your dad collect guns? I vaguely remember my old man saying something about that years ago.”
“Guns? No. My mom hated guns.” Grace mentally ran through the ranch and then every room in the house. “No, there’s nothing of real value.”
“How about if we get together for dinner one night this week and talk about this?” Sam asked. “Perhaps we could come up with an extension, give you more time to figure things out.” Sam leaned in, and Grace caught a whiff of his too sweet, too cheap cologne.
She jumped up, her stomach roiling and ready to heave, though whether it was from Sam’s cologne or the twenty-six thousand dollars, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, Sam. I’ve got a lot to figure out. I’ll call you in a couple days.”
Her entire plan had crumbled in a matter of minutes. She hurried out the door before the walls caved in.
…
Noah walked out of the barn and watched the empty dirt driveway, as if that would make Gracie’s car appear. How long could meeting with Mr. Lincoln take? That feeling like something was off washed through him, like when the chickens got too silent right before a thunderstorm. He should’ve pressed Gracie’s dad harder when those late notices started popping up in the mail. But George had assured Noah he was on top of things. And Noah had been knee-deep in kick-starting his business while helping where he could around the ranch and with JJ.
His phone rang, and he rushed to answer without even looking at the screen, hoping it was Gracie. “Hello.”
“I saw our little Gracie just now at the Stop-n-Gas.”
Nessie. Noah blew out a disappointed breath, then mentally chastised himself. Truth be told, Nessie had been a consistent friend since high school and in recent months had helped with JJ here and there. She’d even brought dinner over twice last week, a kind gesture given all the chaos. “Hey, Ness. Figured you would eventually.”
“Sounds like she’s already counting down the days ’til she’s outta here again.” She paused. “What’s going to happen to JJ?”
She almost sounded sincere. The words still hurt. Noah sucked in a breath. “We’re still figuring that out,” he said tightly.
“What’s to figure out? She’s taking him with her, right?”
“I don’t know.” It almost killed him to say it, and he immediately regretted it.
She gasped, then tsked. She sounded as horrified as he felt. “Of course. Makes perfect sense. She left her daddy when he needed her most. Took the easy road. Took care of numero uno. Quitting is her MO.”
Gracie was a lot of things, but a quitter wasn’t one of them.
“Noah, honey, listen. You don’t need her. That boy knows you. He loves you. He needs you.”
Her words hit a chord somewhere deep in his chest, in some tiny crevice he didn’t know was there. She was right, about this at least. JJ did need him.
“And I’ll be here. I’ll help. Anything you need. I’d never leave you, Noah.”
Never leave you. Just what he promised to Gracie on Valentine’s Day senior year. “Listen, Nessie…” He pinched the base of his nose between his eyebrows. Gracie and Nessie’s relationship was in tatters for most of senior year and well before she’d left. He’d missed a lot of things with Gracie being gone; the girl drama wasn’t one of them. But even he knew no good could come from taking advice from his ex-girlfriend’s nemesis on how to handle said ex-girlfriend. “Ness, I’m a bit tied up here.”
“Of course you are. You work too hard. As soon as things calm down”—code for as soon as Gracie left, he was sure—“I’ll bring my two favorite boys dinner—and a special dessert just for JJ.”
“Sounds great, Ness.”
“Well, make sure you bring Grace to our little Memorial Day party, assuming she’s still here, of course, and can find the time.”
Her use of “our little party” wasn’t lost on him. Sure, he helped her out, more so every year. Heck, for the past two years he’d manned the grill, last year single-handedly. But it was her party. People didn’t actually think they were hosting it together, did they?
“She’s here for the next two weeks. I’m sure she wouldn’t miss it.”
“I’m sure.”
Gracie’s silver Audi glinted in the sun as it turned into the drive.
“Listen, Nessie, I gotta go.” He clicked off the phone and watched as Gracie drove up. He recognized that pissed look on her face. He glanced down at his phone. Twenty minutes until JJ would be home on the bus. Hopefully the fireworks would be over by then.
She slammed the car door and marched toward him. Her face confirmed she’d learned all the gory details of their predicament. Maybe she would share them with him. That snake Sam Barker refused to take his calls. Gracie looked more than angry. She looked worn out.
And still she looked gorgeous.
Noah anchored himself to the ground, legs spread, arms crossed, waiting for the barrage of very loud questions he knew was coming.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” She spat. “I can’t sell this place. It’s going into foreclosure. How did things get so bad?” She started pacing. “I thought he’d gotten better, that Sheila had cured him. How could my father do that to her and JJ?” She stopped and pivoted toward Noah. “Wasn’t it enough, one family destroyed?”
“First, I didn’t know, not really. And second, it’s not what you think, Gracie. Your dad was sick. He’d been sick for a while.”
“Depression isn’t a sickness.” The pain on her face told him she knew better.
He stopped himself from correcting her. She was too mad to be rational. And the truth was, none of that mattered anymore. “Cancer is.”
“Wh-what?”
“He was diagnosed about two years ago.” Noah pressed his lips together. How could she not know this? But, of course, she’d cut everyone off. She hadn’t wanted to know. An emptiness hollowed his gut.
“That was around the same time as your dad’s stroke.” She whispered the words, as if it made them less sad, less true.
Like he needed reminding. The hairs on his arms shot to attention. “Yeah, it was a hell of a year. Who told you?”
“Mr. Lincoln.” She took a step toward him. “Why didn’t you?”
“I tried to call. Several times.” Sober and drunk. “You never called back. And since you’ve been home, you never asked.” He held her gaze. “You haven’t asked about anyone.”
She flinched. Kudos to her, it was almost indiscernible. Almost.
“So you’ve been helping here since you moved your father to Hillside.”
He shrugged. “I’ve done what I could.” He looked around. Two years ago, things had looked better. His eyes landed on the empty barn. Hell, two months ago, things had looked better. He turned back to her. She stood there watching him, waiting for more.
“Your dad was going to sell the ranch to me, Gracie. He said selling the horses would catch him up.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know how bad his finances were.”
“They’re bad.”
Her words sounded hopeless. He wasn’t ready to give up so easily. Not on this place; not on her. “Maybe we could work something out.” He took a step forward, then stopped. “Maybe we could—”
“Maybe we could what? Scrape together twenty-six grand, save the ranch, and live happily ever after? Cinderella was given the boot seven years ago. Trust me, you’re no prince.”
“We don’t need a fairy tale. We can figure it out together.” He’d always felt like he could conquer the world when he was with her. They almost had. And she did. She’d left just like they’d planned and followed her dreams. He wanted to tell her he’d never stopped loving her; that he’d sent her away for her own good. But the woman standing in front of him wouldn’t view it as an act of chivalry. No, she would feel played and betrayed. And she’d be right.
And truth was, he’d do it again. He’d known it was the right thing for her. Just like he knew what she was doing now was the wrong thing. What could he do this time to make it right, to make things how they should be?
“We’re not in this together, Noah. You want to save the kingdom; I want to scrap it.” Her shoulders sagged, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going to let the bank take it.”
Her words sliced at him. If she went through with that, the bank would put the property up for auction. He’d bid, of course, but his bid probably wouldn’t make the list, not with Slimy Sam running the show. Though he wouldn’t know for sure until he asked…
“I’m sorry,” Gracie said, dropping her head, massaging her temples with her fingers. “Sam says we have a month. I’m needed back in New York, so I’m sticking to my two-week schedule. I’ll go through everything and figure out what’s sellable. The overall plan hasn’t changed.” She rubbed her temples harder.
“And JJ?”
She lifted her head slowly, but her eyes refused to meet his. “I’ll tell him about New York soon. Tomorrow.”
“I’ve got to be there when you tell him. It needs to be done carefully. You can’t just spring it on him.” Noah took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers into tight fists. “And I’ll stay until you leave, for JJ.” Of course. And maybe it’d give him time to come up with a way to change her mind. “But I’m not helping you pack.” Anger battled disappointment for the upper hand. Disappointment in her—and him. He’d helped create the one-woman-show standing in front of him. “I’m not helping you tear down the only home JJ’s ever known.” He wouldn’t make this easy for her. “You’re on your own. Just the way you like it.”
He turned and strode back into the barn. As he crossed the threshold, his eyes inadvertently looked up to the loft. Gracie had told him yesterday that the girl he’d known didn’t exist anymore. He didn’t believe that. He’d seen glimpses of her last night at dinner. His Gracie was there, down deep, beneath the makeup and designer clothes. Beneath the time and the hurt and the bright city lights.
Maybe he’d made a mistake pushing her away. But he wasn’t mistaken about what they could accomplish if they worked together. They could do what was best for JJ. Together, he and that girl were unstoppable. And he had less than two weeks to prove it to her.
…
The next morning Grace’s stomach rumbled louder than the rooster crow. She shouldn’t have skipped dinner. At the very least, she should’ve come out and said good night. Instead, she’d hidden in her room. Noah didn’t want her out there, and neither would JJ once he knew about her plans.
Grace flipped over onto her back and stared at the cracked ceiling. She had to get her arms around this ranch, figure out what was salvageable and what was sellable. She also had to make time to research financial aid for JJ’s schooling. All while keeping things running and feeding the animals—a job in itself. And she wouldn’t have Noah to help her with any of it. Noah. Every time their paths crossed, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to wring his neck or snuggle into it. Her stomach either cramped or danced every time she thought of him. That man made her crazy.
At least he would help with JJ, which was something. It was better for him to handle her stepbrother, anyway. She wasn’t good with kids and never had been. Growing up, she’d been convinced she was the only fourteen-year-old girl in the world who hated babysitting.
The chickens she could handle. They’d had chickens when she was young, before The Incident. Even the goats, which she had no clue about, she’d deal with. They scared her a lot less than a human kid.
She pushed aside her covers and threw on a pair of Rag & Bone jeans. After today, they’d be covered in farm filth, permanently the most expensive pair of work jeans she’d ever owned.
Something bugged her brain as she dressed. Oh no. The Marco files. How could she have forgotten? She grabbed her phone and checked for email as fast as she could, and…nothing. What the heck? She dialed Claire and the call went straight to voicemail.
“Claire, it’s Wednesday morning. I never got the files. Resend them to me as soon as you can,” Grace pleaded. “We’re running out of time. And call me.” Grace hung up and shoved the phone into her back pocket.
A full pot of coffee waited in the kitchen. She poured a mugful.
JJ poked his head into the kitchen. “You missed a good supper, Gracie.” He puffed his chest out. “I made garlic noodles. And chocolate milk.”
“Sounds yummy.” Grace sipped her coffee and smiled to herself, remembering the intense discussion she’d heard through the wall last night about the proper way to make the chocolate milk. JJ had been right—milk first, then chocolate sauce—and she’d had to talk herself out of joining in more than once.
“Whatcha doing today? More meetings?”
“Nope. I’m staying here today. I’m waiting for an important email from work. But in the meantime, I’m going to get reacquainted with this ranch. I need to learn all I can about it.”
JJ’s eyes grew bigger than baseballs. “I’ll show you. I know everything there is to know ’bout the animals.”
Grace sipped from her mug and considered his offer. “Don’t you have school?”
“You need help. Mama always said nothing’s more important than family needing help.”
Family. Goose bumps rippled down her arms. She didn’t want to be this kid’s only family. He deserved better.
He looked past her and out the window, his eyes wide and full of hope. Words fluttered in her brain as she grasped for ones that wouldn’t dim those bright blue eyes. “Your mother,” Grace’s voice cracked, “was a smart woman.”
Sadness flickered across his face. He glanced away. “So can I stay home?” he asked, without looking back at her. “And help you?”
“Isn’t it close to the end of the school year? Are you trying to skip out on tests?”
“I got one in science, but not until tomorrow.” He glanced over at her.
Grace raised an eyebrow.
“I already studied, really, I have.”
Grace took a deep breath. “Okay, but only if Noah agrees.”
“Agrees to what?” Noah pushed through the screen door, his T-shirt halfway over his head, his rock-hard abs exposed. Grace’s mouth dried. She’d need to institute a dress code, starting with: clothes on before entering the house. She squeezed her coffee mug.
“Gracie asked me to stay home and show her around,” JJ announced.
Grace bit down a smile. Not exactly the truth, but close enough. Noah’s eyes widened slightly at the news and then again as they took in her ponytail and jeans. She’d surprised him. Good.
JJ bounced up and down. “Can I stay and help her, please, please, please?”
Noah’s forehead crinkled in a not-nearly-believable show of thinking about it. “Fine, but you better put new hay in the goat shed.”
“Yay!” JJ disappeared for a few seconds, then came barreling through the kitchen wearing a cowboy hat. “Come on, Gracie.” He ran out the mud door. “Chickens are waiting,” he called over his shoulder.
Noah nodded at the Converse on Grace’s feet. “You’re going to need your boots if you plan to work the ranch.”
“I know,” she said. Though they probably wouldn’t even fit—shrunk by the petrified mud or the country air or whatever. And didn’t they have a hole in the sole? “What time is JJ’s school meeting tomorrow?” she asked, changing the subject.
Noah’s eyes flickered to her face, clearly questioning her motives.
Her cheeks warmed. “The meeting’s tomorrow morning, right? I need to understand where he’s at, what’s going on. And I need a recommendation from them for the…”
She stopped as Noah’s jaw tightened at her words. “Sounds like you’re all set here,” he said. “I have work to do.” He pushed out the door toward the cottage.
She watched him leave, not sure whether she felt remorse or relief. There’d been a time when they could talk about anything. Yet she couldn’t dispute she was thankful to avoid saying those words: boarding school. Somehow in the past twenty-four hours, her no-brainer solution had turned into a no-winner mess.