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When I bought the house, they wouldn’t let me furnish it. Their pride had been bruised enough with the house alone. So they’d moved their old, worn furniture into the beautiful, refurbished farmhouse. The incongruity assaulted me every time I walked through the front door. I hadn’t considered it before now, having never been here. But now that I saw it, the furniture had to go, even if I had to replace it piece by piece as gifts to work around that stubborn pride of theirs.
And timing was paramount. We were set to have an interview with a cable news outlet coming up, and the house had to be presentable. I couldn’t exactly look dignified sitting on a twenty-year-old couch that had once been bombed for fleas.
My phone rang over the car speakers, interrupting the music. Charlie’s name popped up on the display.
“Afternoon, Charlie,” I answered.
“Howdy, son.” I could hear him smiling on the other end of the line. “How’r things over in Lindenbach?”
“Going well, sir. Evangeline has the staff working overtime on outreach. I’ve secured support from most of the businesses on Main Street. Every window has a sign. We’ve been prepping for the debate, but that’s about to get kicked into high gear. It’s gonna be a shitshow.”
He chuckled. “Town hall debates always are. Hard to keep them unbiased on a national level, but impossible in a town like Lindenbach. Doesn’t matter how hard it’s been vetted. So be prepared for anything.”
“Yessir.”
“Damage report after the calf roping?”
“The town was entertained—they haven’t stopped talking about it. Mostly positive. I impressed while managing to piss a cluster of them off when Poppy Blum was hurt.”
“Your ex.”
“High school girlfriend. Different kind of ex.”
“Sure, but not for the locals. I hear she has quite a following.”
“It’s true, but a lot of people would love to see her fail. I don’t think it’s going to be close. I called her out to bury the hatchet at a gathering over the weekend and she lost her cool in front of the town. It’s just a matter of time.”
“So long as you’re prepared to do what needs to be done.”
My stomach twisted. “Ready and waiting.”
“Good. I’ll be out that way coming up, I’ll have Diane send you the details. Love to have you at the ranch.”
“I’d love to visit.”
“Then we’ll plan on it. Need anything?”
“No, sir—we’re all set. You’ve given us more than enough. Thank you for putting your faith in me, for giving me a chance.”
“I knew you were meant for this the second we first shook hands. It’s my pleasure and honor to offer what I can. We need fresh faces and a unified front if we’re going to stay alive, and you provide both. So keep up the good work. Let Diane know if you think of anything you need. Should be enough in funding to keep you running for a while, but you have my means at your disposal.”
Pride brought a smile to my face. “Thank you again, sir. I’ll do my best to make you proud.”
“You’re already doing it, son.”
We said our goodbyes and disconnected, and his approval lit me up from the inside. Charlie Williams was like a father to me, everything I aspired to be. My admiration of him knew no bounds, and I’d do anything to maintain it. My hand was already reaching for that next rung on the ladder, and the faster I could get to the top, the happier I’d be. The better I’d be. The more equality I’d have from those I respected so much, Charlie in particular.
That bombastic feeling popped with a painful prick as I pulled up to the house where my actual father lived. A man I loved and respected like no other, but a man who didn’t fit into the machine like Charlie did. I could help smooth my parents’ edges though. They might never fit, but it’s possible that they could pass.
My introspection was short lived on finding two moving guys with a couch between them and my parents on the porch yelling in their direction.
“Shit,” I murmured, putting the Escalade in park and climbing out.
“That ain’t mine,” Dad said. “I don’t care what your piece of paper says—I didn’t order no couch.”
One guy set his end down and read from the invoice he retrieved from his pocket. “You’re Buck Daniels?”
“I am.”
“And this is 1889 County Road 875?”
“It is.”
“Then this couch is yours.” He picked up his end of the couch again.
“I don’t want the damn thing!”
I trotted up, smiling and apologizing. “It belongs here, Dad,” I said, but his face was still all wrinkled up. “I got it for you, had a designer pick it out and everything. Even has a recliner on the end, so you can get rid of the old one.”
He folded his arms.
Mama hung her hands on her hips. “Nobody asked you to do that, Duke.”
