6. AMANDA

“You have to hit the little camera thing.”

“The what?”

I sigh. “It’s at the bottom. It looks like a movie camera, it should have a red stripe through it.”

A pause. “Okay, yup.”

“Click on it.”

An instant later and I’m staring through my dad’s mustache at his nostrils.

“Dad, you have to hold the screen up to your face! I’m looking up your nose!”

“Oops, shit,” I hear him grumble. The room behind him – he’s in the kitchen of our old farmhouse – tilts and spins as he adjusts his iPad. Finally, we’re face to virtual face.

“There’s my pumpkin!” he beams as we look into each other’s eyes for the first time in months. As always, he’s three days past needing a shave, his push-broom mustache is probably a full inch over the top of his mouth, and his iron-grey hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat from the brim of his Stetson.

As far as I’m concerned, he’s the handsomest man in the world. Sam Elliot, except bigger and stronger.

“So,” he says. “You look great, sweetie. You’re pretty pale, though. You need to get outta that vault more. See some sights!”

I grin. Some things never change, thank God.

“I’ll have you know that I haven’t been in that vault for over two weeks,” I say.

“That’s right!” he says with a snap of his sausage fingers. “Your email said you got a job. What’re you doin’? You said you wanted to tell me in person, well here I am. Sorta.”

I’m so excited I might bust. Dad has spent a lot – I mean a lot – of money on my education, and this is the first real job I’ve had in my field. I’ve decided to take Maria’s advice and feel proud of myself for a change, instead of letting him do all of it for me.

“Well,” I say with a grin. “You’re looking at the official planner for the 30^th birthday celebration of – wait for it – Prince Dante of Morova!”

His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open.

“You’re kidding!” he gasps. “Well, that’s fan-friggin-tastic, pumpkin!”

I allow him to stare at me like that for a full five seconds before letting him off the hook.

“Morova is a principality on the shores of Lake Orta, Dad. It’s near Malta, where the vault is.”

“I knew that,” he says. “Lake Orta. Sure. And for Prince Dante, y’say?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” I chuckle. “I know you’ve never heard of him.”

“What d’ya mean? I know about him! He’s at the checkout at the Bi-Rite in Shelby all the time.”

The prince of Morova is at the – ? Oh, I get it.

“In the tabloids, you mean.”

“Yeah. He’s quite the playboy, by the looks of things.”

Maybe not, according to Maria. But now that I officially work for the royal family, I guess I’d best be keeping their secrets. And what I wouldn’t give to have some secrets to keep with Dante.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “He’s always flying around chasing supermodels, just like you’d expect. He’s in Monte Carlo right now.”

“I used to have a ’72 Monte Carlo,” he says wistfully. “Had to sell it to buy the hay baler, though. That was back ’fore you were born.”

Dad gave up a lot for our family, and I know it’s been a hard go for him. My education wasn’t the only expense he had; Mom had cancer on and off for seven years before she finally passed away when I was in middle school. That was a big part of my growing up: taking care of the place while Dad took her to the hospital in Great Falls for radiation and chemo.

He’s never talked about how much that cost the family, and I’ve never asked.

It just makes me that much more excited to tell him about the money. But first a tour.

“Hey,” I say. “You’ll never believe where I am right now.”

“I’m guessin’ somewhere in, whatchacallit, Morova?”

I hop off the bed and carry my tablet over to the window of my apartment. It’s not as swanky as Maria’s, but it’s still huge and loaded with priceless antiques. I stand with my back to the window and sweep the room with my screen: the granite walls, the tapestries, the eight-foot paintings of people in fancy getups. If nothing else, I’m sure Dad will appreciate the polished walnut wardrobe and dresser.

“So this is my apartment,” I say, pretending to yawn. “No big deal, you know.”

“Ho-lee sheep shit!” blares from the tablet’s speaker.

“I know!” I squeal. “I’m living in the royal palace until the party!”

I have no idea where I’ll end up after that, but for now, let’s focus on the fun stuff.

“There’s a little something else,” I say, turning to face the window and the incredible view of Lake Orta beyond it. “That’s what I get to look at all day.”

Dad lets out a low whistle.

“Man, would I love to get my old two-stroke boat out on that baby,” he says. “I bet there’s some damn good fishin’ in there. Bass, maybe.”

God, it’s so good to hear his voice again. I didn’t realize just how much I missed him until right now. It’s always been too easy to lose touch with him when my head is stuck in a book. Suddenly weeks go by and I haven’t talked to him, then when I do, I get all emotional. Like now.

“So anyways, Dad, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“More good news? ‘Cause I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m gettin’ pretty fat, and my ticker’s not what it used to be.”

I cluck my tongue and shake my head. “You’re not fat, Dad. Now quit fishing for compliments and listen to the rest of my story.”

“Yes’m,” he says, grinning wide. “Sorry.”

“Okay, so anyway – ”

“One last thing.”

“What?” Grrrr.

“I’m just so damn proud of you, sweetheart,” he says. “I always knew you were gonna make it big some day, get out of this two-bit life and live with the classy people. And there y’are now, rubbin’ elbows with royalty.” I see pixelated tears shimmer in his eyes on the screen. “Your mom’s smilin’ down on you from heaven right now, that’s a fact.”

Great. Now here come my own tears. Dad always says he regrets how much he didn’t say to Mom before she passed. He’s been making up for it with me ever since.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I smile and bow my head. “That means a lot to me. Now stop interrupting!”

He sucks his lips into his mouth with a comical salute, prompting a giggle from me. I sometimes think he missed his calling by taking over the family ranch – he could have been an actor.

“That’s better,” I say. “All right, so the best part about this whole royal birthday gig is the pay. Guess how much?”

He shrugs. “How’m I supposed to know what royals pay for stuff?”

“Seventy-five thousand dollars to plan a party!” I squeal. I’ve been wanting to tell him this for so long now!

His eyes go round – well, as round as they can get, anyway. They’re pretty squinty, like Clint Eastwood’s.

“You’re shittin’ your old man,” he breathes. “You could buy a house in Shelby for that kinda money!”

“I shit you not.”

“Well if that just don’t beat all. Honey, that’s incredible. What’re you gonna do with it?”

I love him so much for not suggesting I come back home. Sure, the line about a house in Shelby was a not-so-subtle hint, but he’d never say it in so many words because, deep down, he knows my path doesn’t lead back to Montana.

“Well,” I say with a grin. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll give it all to you.”

His mouth literally drops open, the exact reaction I was hoping for. He’s done so much for me, and I’ve wanted to help him for so long. Now I finally can.

It lasts all of two seconds, then suddenly his brows knit and he’s shaking his head.

“The hell you will,” he says. “I won’t take it.”

I expected this, so I’m prepared. At least I got the initial surprise that I was looking for.

“Hear me out, Dad. I know how much my education cost you, and I know you’re upside-down on the cattle right now. I haven’t been home in awhile, but I’ve kept up on the drought and how it’s driving the cost of feed through the roof. And your profit margin is razor-thin at the best of times.”

“Honey –”

“Let me finish. You always taught me that a person should pay their debts in any way they can. You’ve paid bills with beef more times than I can count. You also taught me that if you can help someone, you should help them. How many of our neighbors have fences because you were out there with them all day in the hot sun, pounding in posts? How many times have you driven to one of their places in the middle of a snowstorm to help them when a cow is having a rough birth?”

“That’s not –”

“Shush,” I say with a raised finger. “The money is yours, and that’s that.”

I give him a look of mock triumph. I won!

Then I see those wide shoulders droop for the first time ever. He lets out the deepest sigh I’ve ever heard from him. The look on his face – I’ve never seen it before. It’s like he’s been deflated.

A sudden cramp of fear rises in my belly.

“You keep that money,” he says quietly. “It’s not gonna do me any good.”

“I don’t understand,” I say. “I was so excited to be finally able to help with the bills…”

“Pumpkin, my bills are beyond even with that kinda money.”

“But why? What’s wrong?”

He clears the emotions from his throat, but he won’t look me in the eye on the screen.

“It’s been comin’ for years now,” he says. “Your mom’s medical bills ate up all the equity we had in the land long ago, sweetie. The bank’s owned it since you were a girl. And with the shit-kickin’ the beef market has been takin’ the last ten years, then the drought, well… I figure I’ve got maybe six months before the bank takes everything for auction.”

My eyes go dry as I stare at the screen, forgetting to blink.

“I – I don’t understand,” I stammer. “How did you pay for school, then?”

Dad surprises me by smiling.

“That was your mom’s life insurance money,” he says. “We agreed before she passed that it was goin’ to your education, not the bank. That you weren’t gonna end up havin’ a ranch work you to death. Best investment we ever made.”

My heart feels like a wrung-out rag. I knew things were bad, but I never would have guessed that Dad was on the verge of losing the ranch. Suddenly my big surprise seems like a kid offering his Tonka truck to help pull the tractor out of the ditch.

“I don’t know what to say, Dad.” Tears are flowing freely now. “What are you going to do?”

He sees my tears and reacts to them the way he always has in the past: he turns into John Wayne, ready to saddle up and take care of the bad guys.

“Don’t you waste one second worryin’ about me,” he says. “I’ll be just fine. There’s worse things can happen to a man than goin’ bankrupt. There ain’t a rancher for a hundred miles around that wouldn’t hire me in a second. The name Ike Sparks still means somethin’ in Montana.”

I snuffle back a tear.

“It still means something in Morova, too,” I whisper. “It means everything.”