1
Distracted, Charlie Grace shut off her computer, thinking there was nothing quieter than late winter snow melting softly outside the cabin’s window, weaving rivulets down the panes of glass. She stood and made her way to the opening, peering out at the blurred view of the snow-topped mountains beyond.
In mere minutes, the blanket of gray clouds gave way, and a soft brush of sunshine lit up the frozen white patches scattered among the tufts of vibrant spring grass. The sugar-frosted forest in the distance seemed to lean into the warmth, the deep green pine boughs still glistening with lingering snow as they began to shrug off winter’s icy hold. It was as if spring and winter were locked in yet another quarrel, neither willing to yield.
If she had time, she’d grab her camera and try to capture the beauty of it all. Sadly, time was a rare commodity she didn’t have a lot of these days. Not with loan renewals, cash flow statements, and tax preparation crowding her task list.
Charlie Grace tore her gaze away from the window and turned back to her desk, where her daunting pile of work awaited her. She barely had a chance to refocus before a movement caught her eye. Startled, she looked up to see Aunt Mo standing in the doorway, casually wiping her hands on a towel.
“Oh, you scared me!” she exclaimed.
Aunt Mo moved into the room. “Didn’t mean to, sweetheart.” She surveyed the piles of paper next to the computer. “You’ve been busy.”
Charlie Grace slid into her desk chair and nodded as she quickly folded the open bank statement and slid it back into its envelope.
Aunt Mo stepped closer, her gaze roaming over the desk cluttered with papers and landing on the lines of worry that were no doubt etched across Charlie Grace’s face. She set the towel on the edge of the desk and leaned one hip against it, crossing her arms.
“You know,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “This ranch can be needy. Always wanting more from you than you’ve got to give.”
Charlie Grace let out a faint, distracted laugh, tucking the envelope away into a drawer. “That sounds about right.”
Aunt Mo tilted her head, studying her niece. “It’s okay to let someone else help carry the load when it gets too heavy. Ranches don’t run on sheer willpower alone, honey.”
Charlie Grace clenched her jaw, refusing to admit—even to herself—just how hard it had been to keep the ranch afloat over the winter when bills rolled in and income teetered.
Despite a thriving ski season, most tourists lodged in Jackson. She’d lured a few out to the ranch with holiday sleigh rides, but even that was dwindling now that the snowpack was melting and kids were all back in school.
Her bank account showed it.
She looked down, her hands resting on the desk. “I can handle it,” she told Aunt Mo, though her voice lacked conviction.
Aunt Mo smiled gently, reaching out to rest a hand on Charlie Grace’s shoulder. “Of course, you can,” she said, her tone laced with both pride and quiet understanding. “But handling it doesn’t mean you have to do it all alone.”
With that, Aunt Mo pushed off the desk and grabbed the towel, flipped it over her shoulder. “Now, I’ve a pie in the oven, but if you need another set of hands—whether for papers or pies—you know where to find me.”
She headed for the door but paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Just don’t wait too long to ask, okay?” Then, with a knowing smile, she disappeared down the hall.
Charlie Grace grabbed her favorite baseball cap off the corner of her desk and placed it on her head, remembering the whirlwind of last summer after her dad had nearly run the place into financial ruin. She’d done everything to transform the struggling cattle operation into a guest ranch. The glossy brochures and promises of adventure had lured visitors in droves, filling the cabins and keeping the dining hall buzzing with laughter.
She’d stepped into the role her father couldn’t, quietly negotiating deals, taking on the dirty work, and ensuring every guest left wanting to come back. Saving the ranch wasn’t a victory parade; it was a grueling march of determination, and even now, the echoes of those desperate months lingered in the back of her mind.
For a moment, it felt like they’d turned a corner. But as the frozen winter air rolled in, so had the bills—feed, repairs, marketing—and the glaring realization that one stellar season wasn’t enough to steady the ship.
A wave of déjà vu washed over her as she stood and peered out the window a second time. She’d been in this exact spot so many months ago, wondering if they’d make it through another year.
The seasons had cycled, but the landscape hadn’t changed—the towering pines, the worn barn, the guest cabins nestled against the foothills—all hauntingly familiar. The stakes were different now, but the weight on her shoulders was the same, as if the past and present had blurred into one relentless cycle of saving what she loved most.
This wasn’t just a ranch—it was her legacy, her triumph.
As she turned and headed for the kitchen, she carried with her a mix of pride and pressure. She’d saved the ranch once, and she could do it again.
It was late spring, the mountain tops still snowy white and glistening. Yet, summer was coming, and, with it, the tourist season. Until then, she was ready to roll up her sleeves and find a way to stretch the balance in that bank account somehow.
She really didn’t have a choice.
Reva unboxed the pies she’d picked up in Jackson earlier and carefully eased them into the oven to heat. She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen window that overlooked the driveway, listening for any signs of her girlfriends arriving early. Satisfied the coast was clear, she folded the empty boxes and shoved them into the back of the pantry behind a row of mismatched jars.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” she muttered, brushing her hands together as if that would erase any evidence of her deception.
