Winter at Mustang Ridge (24 page)

A smile bloomed on her mother’s face, gentle and genuine. “Thank you for that, sweetheart.” She stroked the gleaming yellow glaze, trailing a fingertip along the broken spot. “Yes. That’s exactly what we’ll do. We’ll tell them that you had a tantrum and broke the horse.”

Jenny laughed. “Oh, fine. Be that way.” But inwardly, she thought,
Finally
. Finally, she had said the right thing at the right time, and she and her mother had managed to have a real conversation. Given how the rest of the day had gone, she would totally take it.

T
he following week passed in a blur. Jenny spent her days holed up in Krista’s office and her nights at Nick’s place. They went out some evenings, stayed in others, and put some serious mileage on his mattress. It was fun, easy, and everything she had thought she wanted six weeks earlier.

Now, though . . . she didn’t know what she wanted.

“Five more days,” she told Rex, feeling a sting that should’ve worn down by now, for all the times she had probed at the sore spot.

His tail thumped.
You’re talking to me but it doesn’t look like you’re moving, so I’ll just stay here if that’s cool with you
.

“I’m going to miss you, buddy.” She was having a hard time imagining a day without his cheerful floppiness and imagined backtalk.

He cocked his head.

“I’m not sad. I just . . . I don’t know. Maybe I need to eat something.” It was almost lunchtime, and her latest video edits were compiling. “Want to go find Gran?”

Rex leaped to his feet, tail whipping side to side.
Oh, boy, cookies!

There was a tap on the door. “Jenny, dear?” It was her mom’s voice, which was a bit of a surprise. Her parents had left midweek for a buying trip that she suspected was more of a clear-the-head getaway for her mom, who had been almost eerily reserved in the days following their heart-to-heart.

Jenny swung open the door, releasing Rex to dance around her mom’s legs. “Hey! When did you guys get home?”

“Just now. Do you have a few minutes?”

“I was just going in search of food.”

“Lunch is going on the table now, all hands on deck.” Rose leaned down to ruffle Rex’s fur. “Paws, too.”

“As in, family meeting?” Jenny gave her mom an up-and-down, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Is everything okay?”

“Absolutely. Come on, I’m starving.”

Bemused, Jenny followed her mom into the dining room. Her father was at the sideboard, building a leaning tower of a sandwich from the sourdough and fixings that were laid out. Gran was in the living room, where she settled Rex next to the fireplace with a treat, and Big Skye was already at the table with a sandwich and mug of coffee.

Rose marched to the sideboard and started assembling an open-face sandwich. When Jenny hesitated, her mom looked back over her shoulder. “Come on. You said you were hungry.”

She had been. Now she was just confused. “What’s up?”

Gran came up behind her and gave her a nudge, saying in a low voice, “Whatever it is, I expect it’ll go down easier with a sandwich.”

“Words to live by,” Jenny decided, and headed for the sideboard.

Ten minutes later, with everyone seated and lunch under way, Jenny’s mom pushed her plate aside, dabbed her lips with a napkin, folded her hands atop the table, and said, “So.”

The word hung there for a moment, seeming to require a response. Since nobody else stepped up, Jenny said, “Should we fire up the Skype and get Krista involved in this?”

“She knows,” her father said. “Your mother and I took a ride over to Cali and ran this by her first.” He was halfway through the first of two skyscraper sandwiches, suggesting that whatever game was afoot, he wasn’t bothered by it. Unless he was stress eating.

“Well, then,” Gran said, “what’s the big news?”

Jenny said, “Mom?”

Rose pushed back her chair and stood, looking even taller than she usually did. She had her steel-dust hair pulled back, but was wearing jeans and a cable-knit sweater instead of her dressier outfits. Her shoulders were square, her eyes bright but not manic, and she looked like a very different person from the one who had wept over a broken ceramic horse.

With a quiver, Jenny realized that she looked like
Mom
.

After taking a long look around the table, lingering on Big Skye, Rose said, “First, I want to apologize for my recent behavior, especially to you, Barbara.” That was aimed at Gran. “You’re a truly amazing cook, and we’re lucky to have you here. We always have been.”

Gran blinked. “Why . . . thank you, Rose.”

“No, thank
you
.” She turned, focusing on Jenny, who froze midchew. “And Jenny, darling, I want to thank you for doing what you do best—providing an outside perspective on things.”

She swallowed. “Um. What?”

“It wasn’t until the other night, when I saw myself through your eyes that I realized how out of whack I had gotten. After that . . . well, I called Shelby, who knows the local therapists and recommended a woman I could go talk to. I had several sessions and then Eddie and I talked about things, and we went out to run them by Krista. And we’ve all agreed to make some changes.”

Changes? A therapist? Jenny could only stare. But her father was working on his second sandwich, looking relaxed, even happy.

How had she missed this? Had she been so caught up in Nick and the videos that she had been oblivious to such a massive undercurrent? But maybe that was okay. This wasn’t her deal, really. It was her mom’s.

Rose pressed her fingertips into the smooth tabletop in a move that betrayed a hint of nerves. But there was no hesitation when she said, “So here it is. I ran the business end of this ranch for more than twenty-five years, and during that time I raised two wonderful daughters. I worked my butt off doing it, though, and when Ed first brought up the idea of the
Rambling Rose
, it sounded like paradise. I never really stopped to think about what it was going to mean for me. And I never really asked myself if I was ready to retire. Well, I’m not. In fact, I’ve decided that I’m going to un-retire.”

Jenny wasn’t sure whether to eat or gape. “You’re going back to work?”

Humor glinted in her mom’s eyes. “It’s either that or pick a new hobby.”

Yegad
. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“That depends on you and your grandparents. Krista and your father have already given the okay, but this is a family ranch, which means a family vote.” She looked around the table. “I want to create a new position: Head of Special Services. I would handle the weddings and other special events, centralize the extras, and add new services as they make sense.” She folded her hands, as if to keep her fingers still. “Assuming the vote is unanimous, of course.”

Jenny had given up on eating. Her mouth worked a couple of times before she managed to say, “That would be . . .” She blinked. “Perfect. You’d be amazing at it, and give Krista room to focus on other things.” Wow. How hadn’t any of them seen this? It was the right solution in so many ways. Except . . . “What about the
Rambling Rose
?” What she was really asking was:
What about Dad?

Her father shot her a fond look that said
Don’t worry about me.
It’s all good
. But she didn’t just want good for him. She wanted the best.

“Your father and I will live here during the guest season, when the workload is heaviest. Probably March through October, or thereabouts. Then, come winter, we’ll hit the road and head south until we don’t see snow anymore. I can work remotely, with Krista backing me up.”

“You’re going to be snowbirds.” Jenny’s smile widened. “Mom, that’s . . .” She had already said
perfect
, hadn’t she? “I’m so happy for you.”

“Is that a yes vote?”

“Absolutely yes.”

Her mother turned to the other end of the table. “Barbara? Arthur? I’d really appreciate your support.”

“You got it,” Big Skye said. “You never let me down back in the day, Rosie. How could I let you down now?”

Jenny flashed back on memories of the two of them hunched over the accounts, or wrangling over the purchase of a new bull.
This
, she thought. This was what had been missing.

“Barbara?” Rose held out a hand. “Again, I’m sorry for being such a beast to you. I hope we can work together going forward.”

Gran stood, rounded the table, and pulled her into a hug. “Of course, Rosie. How could you ever worry about it? Family is family, even when we drive each other nuts. As long as you stay out of my kitchen, we’ll get along fine.” Her bright, happy eyes went to Ed. “And you a part-timer! How perfect.”

“I’m not a big fan of winter—that’s for sure.” Ed touched his wife’s hand. “But I’ll always be my Rosie’s biggest fan. I think it’s a marvelous idea.”

The vote was unanimous, with even Rex chiming in with an outdoor-voice bark when they all started cheering the new plan. Lunch turned into a celebration after that, with Gran producing a plate of berry tarts that had been earmarked for the senior center, and Big Skye popping the cork on a bottle of champagne he and Gran had gotten for New Year’s and never gotten around to opening.

Lifting a half-full flute, he said, “To Rosie!”

Jenny’s mom lifted her glass in return. “To Mustang Ridge and the Skyes, may they ever adapt when the situation requires it!”

•   •   •

The celebration wound down midafternoon, leaving Jenny with a slight buzz and zero motivation to keep working. On the pretext of taking pictures, she looped Old Faithful’s strap around her neck, pulled on snow pants and boots, whistled up Rex, and headed out into a clear, bright day.

He barked and bounded ahead of her.
Oh, boy, we’re going for a walk!

Instead of following one of the plowed pathways or the trail that the wranglers’ horses had packed leading up to the ridgeline, she set off across virgin snow. Her wide boots sank deep before finding any purchase, leaving her slogging along nearly to her thighs.

Rex wisely followed in her wake, letting her break a trail down past the guest cabins to the lake, where the wind had blown the snow off the ice and the frozen beach, and the action of a small spring kept a section of water open.

“Don’t you dare fall in,” she warned Rex, but he didn’t seem interested in exploring. Instead, he stuck to her heels, tail waving gently.

She made for the small log boathouse, where the floating dock had been pulled up for the winter and lashed in place, and the windows had been covered with plywood. Plonking down on the steps, she leaned back against the door with a sigh. “Today was a good day, Sexy Rexy.”

He leaned against her leg and stared out across the lake, and she looped her gloved fingers in his thick fur, reminded of the many times she and Rusty had sat together like this, back when she was a teenager and trying to figure out why she didn’t fit in at Mustang Ridge, why she couldn’t be content to stay put like all the others had. Now, as she stared out across the snowy fields to the distant mountains, she wasn’t sure what she was trying to figure out. She had a great life, and she would be leaving her family in better shape than it had been when she arrived. Not that she was taking any credit there, but still.

“So what’s the problem?” she asked herself.

Rex looked back over his shoulder at her. “Whuff?”

“That was rhetorical, more or less.” Especially since she knew darn well that her problem was with a certain veterinarian, and the fact that she didn’t want to lose what they had. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure how she could have that particular cake and eat it, too. She couldn’t stay, he couldn’t go, and he’d made it clear that he wasn’t in the market for a long-distance anything. And maybe that was where she had gotten herself in trouble—she had seen how he was mostly camping out in his place and assumed his roots didn’t go that deep, or that having lived the life, he’d be open to staying in touch. Maybe he had it right, though. If it hurt this much to think about being away from him, why prolong the pain? Then again, wouldn’t it hurt less, knowing that she had calls to look forward to, emails to read, visits to make?

Rex surged to his feet, barked twice, and launched himself into a nearby snowbank.

“What the—” She looked around, but didn’t see any reason for the sudden burst of energy.

Barking, the dog spun three-sixty and dove into the deeper snow that had collected up against the boathouse.

“You’re a nut!” she called, but felt a grin stretch her face. Which might have been his intention.

For the next few minutes, the big goldie porpoised and played, leaping up in a glistening spray of snow and snapping at the crystals, and then disappearing again beneath the white surface.

She laughed as he submarined for a few feet and then popped up with an almost perfect cone of snow on his head. “Hold that thought,” she said, then followed it with, “Stay, Rex.”

She brought Old Faithful to life, tweaked the settings, and lifted the camera, just managing to get the shot before Rex shook his head, sending the snow flying, and galumphed toward her, tail wagging furiously.
Did you get it? Did you, did you?

“I don’t know. Let’s see.” She pulled up the preview panel on the camera’s small screen, checked the image, and nodded. “Gotcha! And aren’t you a handsome boy?”

Wiggling, he sat on her foot, panting happily.

Seeing a series of unfamiliar images in the preview tiles, she keyed over to those photos. “What the— Oh, right.” She stared down at the pictures, stomach quivering with more of an
uh-oh
than an
aha
. Or maybe it was a combination of the two.

They were the photos Nick had taken that night at his father’s cabin, while she had been looking at the old photos . . . and before they had gotten on to the topic of his ex. In some of them, she was bent over the album, exclaiming over this photo or that. In others, she was laughing up at Nick’s father, or staring into the lens with a bemused look of
what’s that camera doing there?
In each of them, though, there was a softness in her eyes and a curve to her lips that most definitely sparked an
uh-oh
.