Page 51 of High Water

Aspen

I pull into the parking lot of the assisted living facility on my way back to the ranch from morning class, and I stare at the front door through my windshield for a long minute before I grab my purse to go inside. Bishop told me his grandmother wanted to meet me in person, alone, before she’d start having her lawyer put the paperwork together for the deed transfer. I’m nervous that she won’t believe this is real, and worried that she won’t like me. Bishop warned me that she’s probably going to put me through my paces.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,” the woman, who I presume to be Grams, greets me, her perfectly coifed gray hair neatly styled into ringlets that surround her bright smile and blue-green eyes.

I glance down at my watch, seeing that it’s two minutes until three.

“I’m sorry. I thought Bishop said three o’clock. Did I misunderstand?” I know he said three, but I’d rather start this conversation nonconfrontationally if I can.

“He did, but in this family, we pride ourselves on punctuality. On time is late, and late is inexcusable. I suppose you Stocktons don’t have to worry much about time when the world revolves around your schedule.”

Well, so much for nonconfrontational.

“Bishop didn’t warn me about that particular family lore. I’ll keep it in mind for the future. I was coming from class up in Denver, so unfortunately, I couldn’t get here any earlier.”

“Bishop shouldn’t have to tell a woman to have manners when she meets his family. But I appreciate that you’re a working woman when you don’t have to be. I would have assumed that a divorce settlement would have kept you set for life.”

The shots keep flying across the bow, and I’m gonna be working overtime to keep there from being fireworks on this metaphorical ship, or worse yet—sinking it before we even get out of port.

“Could we start over?” I sit down across from her just as a woman brings us two iced teas, grinning at his grandmother as she sets them down.

“Sure, dear. We can start over, but first, I got you some tea. Figured iced would be better than hot since it still tastes good if it melts while you wait. I hate lukewarm tea, you know?”

“I love iced tea. Thank you!” I flash a bright smile I don’t exactly feel.

“Thank you, Tiffany!” She grins at the woman, who I would guess is in her twenties with pretty brown eyes and hair. “This is Tiffany. She’s Bishop’s favorite around here and mine too.” She holds her hand up to her mouth in a pretend whisper. “Just don’t tell anyone else I said that.”

“No, ma’am. Of course not. You just let me know if you need anything else.” She pats Grams on the shoulder and then takes off to the next group of folks in the dining hall.

“She’s pretty, right? Such a crush on Bishop. I’ve been trying to get those two together, but then he’s been distracted helping your family.”

“Isn’t she a little young for him?” I raise a brow because I’d guess the woman is at least ten years Bishop’s junior.

“Age is just a number. Bishop’s grandfather and I were fifteen years apart. We did just fine. The only part that gets a little rough is when they end up dying when you’re still young, and you’re left to fend for yourself. But then again, there are plenty of hot guys around here, so it’s not all bad.”

“I see.” I nod.

“But enough about my married life. I’d rather hear about yours.” There’s a grin on her face, and she pushes a tea tray of sandwiches in my direction.

“I know Bishop told you we’re engaged, and I know it’s a little sudden. So I imagine you have questions.”

“Not many. I assume he wants the land, or your daughter does.” She puts it bluntly.

“Well, I know keeping the ranch he grew up on close to his heart is something that’s important to him. But we do love each other.”

“Which is why you were married to someone else all this time.”

“I thought Bishop was gone. I looked for him for a long time. I was desperate for him to meet his daughter. I didn’t give up until we were told he was presumed dead. I even hired a private investigator at one point, and they came up with nothing. He was a ghost.”

“Yes, well, I’ve given him plenty of grief over his disappearing act, but that’s in the past now.”

“As is my former marriage.”

“Is it? You’re well and truly done with him? You’re not going to suddenly decide you miss your ex-husband? For all of my husband’s faults, and there were more than a few that made me wish for divorce, I couldn’t imagine ever leaving him. He was my person.”

“Bishop is my person.”

“I should hope so. Given that he left his whole family behind to live on that ranch.”