More people filter in under the wire, and the murmurs filling the air grow louder. I’m about to turn around to see what’s wrong when a tall form appears at my side. Who’s choosing now to give me their condolences?
I look up. Landry lifts a dark brow, ignoring the swell of chatter.
I nearly bark out a laugh. Of course he’d show up at the last second. He used to make us late for school, for church, and for my first date with my first girlfriend Jenni Lynn when I was sixteen. Ever the model, his hair is longer and expertly slickedback, making him look like an arrogant aristocrat. Maturity lines his features. Not quite like looking in a mirror, but close enough. He’s dressed like me and Bowen—only, his suit is pewter gray, and his shirt is the lightest shade of pink.
I can’t see his cuff links, but I know he’s wearing them. They’re one of those things that unites us, like our last name. Mama was so damn happy to gift them to each of us. The last time all three of us wore them was at her funeral.
Carlos lets out a delighted harrumph.
Landry nods at him, his features softening when he greets Esme, and then he lifts his chin to me and Bowen. “Make room.”
“Hi to you too,” Bowen mutters.
“About time, asshole,” I say only loud enough for him to hear. I slide to my right. Meredith may be across the aisle, but I’m not willing to move farther away from her.
“I’m on time.” He wedges himself between Bowen and Carlos, probably so Carlos won’t have to bodysurf to give him the backslap-hug Bowen and I got.
“Did you just roll in?” Bowen asks quietly.
Landry doesn’t look at us. “Pretty much.”
This close, the slight bloodshot tint of his eyes is visible. He may have just driven into Scandal, but he probably flew in last night. He either partied through the evening or stayed up too long. Half the time, whenever I call him, he’s with a woman, so he likely wasn’t alone last night.
James’s brows lift, but he gives an approving nod. As soon as Landry’s planted his ass in the seat, he launches into the greeting. Nice things are said about Dad, along with a few anecdotes. James adds some levity, and my appreciation for him grows.
When the service is done, the family is supposed to filter outside so people who aren’t staying for Holly’s service can shake our hands. I don’t care, but I don’t argue on this. I rise andstand back to usher out Meredith and the rest of her row. Tears track down Sawyer’s cheeks. Meredith’s expression is raw, but her eyes are dry.
Outside, I can’t concentrate on the people streaming by me. I shake hands, say the right things, and thank them for coming. The girls get a ton of hugs, but I’m the one who wants my arms around Meredith.
I can’t let last night cloud my thinking. The funeral is why I’m home. I’ve always been about what needs to be done, and it’s not Meredith.
A man in a black suit and an even darker cowboy hat stops in front of me. “Sorry about Ransom.” He grabs my hand in a firm shake. “I’m Dorian Crenshaw, with Pedigree Oil.”
No wonder I don’t know him. Our land didn’t fall on Pedigree’s radar, so they ignored us as much as my dad ignored them.
I’m just as uninterested. “Thanks.”
He pauses for a moment, his dark gaze skipping from me to Bowen, then Landry. “Never got to know Ransom that well.”
Well, now he won’t.
Bowen’s expression is almost quizzical. He was always the most expressive of us.
Gordon Miller, another neighbor, crowds behind Dorian. His cowboy hat is beige, and the cut of his suit is all Western. “Calder. Welcome home. Wish it was for a different reason.”
I never disliked Gordy. In the mix of neighbors, he floats higher than Gil, but I always got the sense that if things weren’t as acrimonious with the Sterlings, we would’ve had a grudge with him.
“Nice to see you again,” I say on autopilot like I’ve been doing since this line formed.
“You boys need anything, just call.” Gordy shakes my brothers’ hands, crowding out the oil company guy. Then he slaps Dorian on the back, and they walk away together.
If I didn’t know the Millers had wells on their land, I’d have figured it out from that.
Both an eternity and a blink pass when James appears at the door. It’s time for Holly Winslow’s funeral.
Meredith catches her breath. Sawyer fails at biting back a sob. Holding hands, they go inside. Meredith doesn’t look at me as she passes. My fingers brush against the fingers of her free hand, but she doesn’t reach back.
Bowen claps me on the back. “That’s it for us. We can catch up with Landry before the graveside service.”
