It was the worst day of her life. The kids weren’t home, thankGod. Uncle Travis picked them up from school early. But when they saw his face, they knew. Something had shattered in each and every one of them the day John died.
She blinked rapidly. She didn’t want to cry; she didn’t think she had any more tears after eleven months, two weeks, three days of living without John.
“Mateo should be back soon,” Jake said, his voice soft. “We’ll cut the downspouts, then go up to the loft. Not the roof. Just the loft. We’ll see where the water’s getting in.”
Ellen nodded. “Okay.”
But her eyes drifted down the gravel driveway, squinting through the haze. The rain had grown heavier, its rhythm relentless on the barn’s corrugated roof.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Avery and Bobby are at the Mendozas. They’re supposed to be back by two, just with this rain maybe I should call over, have them come back now.”
“They’re fine. Avery is smart. She’ll call if she thinks they can’t get through.”
“I know. And I wouldn’t worry about it except I need to go check on Margery Sutton.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Probably not, but she’s having some concerns and I need to check on her before I can’t get there at all. You can take care of things here?”
“Of course,” Jake said. “And if Avery and Bobby aren’t back by two, I’ll go get them.”
“Be careful. The creek is already running high.”
“Roger that.”
Whisper Creek cut through their property and went under the road that separated their ranch from the former Mendoza property and other farms. The bridge—basically, a reinforced section of the road—had been replaced three times since Ellen had marriedinto the McKenna family. It should hold, even if the creek rose over it, but if it did, they wouldn’t be able to cross it, effectively cutting them off from the Mendozas—and from Bobby and Avery.
It was just after twelve. “I hope to be back by three, I’ll call if I’m later than four.”
She went to the truck and headed for the Suttons’ place.
She passed Mateo as he clattered up the drive on horseback, hunched in his saddle, Jake’s horse trailing behind him. His rain slicker clung to him like plastic wrap, soaked through despite its promise of protection. She waved at him, and he lifted a hand in greeting, then focused on navigating the horses through the mud.
While Jake was a responsible eighteen-year-old, she was glad Mateo had made it back.
Ellen turned onto the road and considered stopping by the Mendozas to check on her kids. But as she passed the driveway and saw the lights from the house in the distance, decided that the delay could mean the difference between her making it back before the storm, so she continued on her way to the Suttons.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tom Garza didn’t understand why any of this washisproblem.
He hadn’t hired the bimbo who fucked up the contracts. But it wasn’t like Mitchell Robinson would admit that he let his dick influence his business decisions.
Jerk.
But the jerk paid well, real well, and thus Tom sat down with Mitchell’s obnoxious, spoiled daughter Presley in her office—yes, the nineteen-year-old had her ownofficeon the Robinson ranch complete with state-of-the-art equipment, video game systems Tom’s kid would have died for, a fully stocked mini-fridge, and a movie screen that came down from the ceiling with flair.
Presley Robinson was smart, sassy, and beautiful, and she knew it.
She popped a bubble with her gum and said, “This will be fun. AI is the best. Whaddya want me to say?”
“I just need them out of the house for a couple hours. Their daughter lives in Frisco, something about car trouble, being stranded.”
“Specifics, Tom,” she said in a condescending tone. “Like, I have her name and number but you need both old farts out of the house? We need to have a good reason.”
“The daughter—”
