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“I’ve heard of her,” Brock said politely. “My own great-great-grandpa came to Montana looking for gold, and decided it was easier and more profitable to sell beef and vegetables to the miners. Mama always told me that he was a city boy who didn’t know how to ride a horse when he arrived.”
“Speaking of horses,” Dad said. “Autumn, your brother and I were talking about teaching his girls how to ride and fish. That got me thinking that maybe Jayden would like to learn, too. He could stay here with us on the ranch until school starts at the end of August.”
Jayden bounced excitedly in his seat. “Ooh, yes! I want to be a cowboy like Uncle Spring! Can I, Mommy? Please?”
Autumn pressed her lips together. Once again, she looked tense, brittle. “I—I don’t know honey.” With a forced smile, she said, “Dad, thanks for the offer. I’ll ask Phillip when he calls tonight.”
Jayden abruptly stopped bouncing. “But Daddyalwayssays no to everything fun!” he blurted. “He doesn’t even letyoudo anything fun!”
Alarmed, Summer’s gaze flew to her sister. Autumn shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Jayden. Daddy is strict, but only because he’s worried about spoiling you now that he’s so successful.”
Jayden pouted. “I hate Daddy’s job! He’s never home and he made you cry when he told you that you couldn’t work for the marketing company anymore!”
“What?” Summer asked, horrified. “But you loved working there! And you’re a genius when it comes to social media stuff!”
Autumn wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Phillip’s travel schedule—” she began. “We, ah, decided it would be best if I stayed home full time to take care of our son.”
“But he’s in school during the day. And why you can’t just put Jayden in an afterschool program, or hire a nanny, Autumn?” Mom asked. “Surely you two earn enough to pay for child care.”
Autumn shook her head, looking stressed and miserable. “Phillip strongly believes that children should be raised by their parents, not hired child care providers.”
“Easy forhimto say, sweetheart, since he’s traveling all the time,” Dad chimed in, with a look of concern. “It sounds like you’re the one doing all of the parenting right now.”
“Phillip says that it’s a privilege to be part of Jayden’s childhood. They grow up so fast, you know.” She turned to her son. “I promise I’ll ask Daddy about spending your summer vacation with Gramps and Nana.” Then, signaling that she wanted to change the subject, Autumn asked, “So, Summer, Brock, I hear that Grandma Abigail made you two business partners. How are things are going at the diner?”
“Just fine,” Summer said quickly. “Brock and I are discussing what changes we need to make. We’ve agreed that leasing an espresso machine and adding a coffee bar is a good first step.”
Brock leaned into her, his warmth radiating through his clothing.
“And what about adding a dinner service, like you suggested, Summer?” asked Grandma Abigail.
“Well…” she began.
And just like that, Flirty Brock vanished, replaced by Stubborn Brock. He subtly eased himself away from her. She instantly missed the contact.
“We’re still hashin’ it out,” he said flatly. “I’m not convinced we need dinner, especially when it means hiring more people when we’re tryin’ to cut overhead costs.”
“And I think we should start slow, with a trial run,” Summer countered. “The diner would be closed for breakfast, and open for lunch and dinner only on Friday. No need to hire extra staff right away.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Grandma Abigail said. “What were your thoughts on the dinner menu?”
Summer caught Brock’s mutinous expression out of the corner of her eye.
“Farm-to-table New American,” she said, promptly. “Upscale versions of familiar dishes, most items sourced locally. Small menu with three or four appetizers, four or five entrees, and a gourmet dessert menu with a selection of espresso drinks as an add-on.”
“And you don’t agree, Brock?” Grandma Abigail asked.
Brock sat ramrod-straight on the bench and crossed his impressively muscled arms. “Upscale’s the wrong way to go. Maybe it would work in Bozeman, but the people here in Snowberry Springs like my food just the way it was. A menu filled with fancy and expensive dishes isn’t gonna appeal to my customers.”
“But what about the LVR? And all the people it’s going to bring to town?” Grandma Abigail asked, clearly unhappy with his resistance.
“Mrs.—I mean, Abigail—you know as well as I do that tourists are only around for a few months a year. If you want the diner to be profitable all year round, then we need to stick with what works.”
“You mean meatloaf? Chicken fried steak? Hamburgers?” Summer asked, not bothering to disguise her scorn.
“Better meatloaf than some vegan tofu dish topped with seaweed, or whatever the hell it is you cook in San Francisco,” he shot back.
“New American cuisine isnottofu and seaweed.” She turned her head to glare at him. “And you have no idea what kind of food I serve at SummerTime!”
