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Women’s lib had been a thing long before Graham was born, but he guessed he could see the landscape had changed since a youthful Walter Sullivan had an affair with his pretty, young secretary. “Are you ever planning on meeting up with Eleanor?” he blurted.

Grandfather reared back. “Why would I do that? Nadine says her mother doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Maybe I get my cowardice from you.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your tongue.”

“I see a similarity. You need closure, and so does she, if she’d only admit it. I’m not saying you need to marry the woman—”

Grandfather harrumphed and jammed his crossed arms over his chest.

“—but offering a sincere, in-person apology might not go amiss.”

“What has that got to do with you?”

Graham took a deep breath. “I’ll pray for you if you pray for me.”

“I pray for you every day already, boy.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do. You’re my grandson. You’re my employee. I couldn’t run this place without you.”

“You couldn’t?”

“What’s wrong with your ears? Your eyes? Look around you. Who could do a better job of collating all the Sullivan numbers? No one, that’s who. I depend on you. I need you to be settled and content, so go find Cadence and get started on that.”

“When are you calling Eleanor?”

Grandfather rolled his eyes. “Back to that, are we? There’s no relationship.”

“We can both be brave. Together.” That would get him off the hook, right? Because there was no way the old man was going to reverse decades of conditioning.

Did Graham want to be off the hook? No, not really, but he didn’t want to be pushed, either. So much that he allowed others to push Cadence because of his reluctance?

No. He needed to step up, either way.

But so did his grandsire.

“You drive a hard bargain. I’ll talk to Nadine about it in the morning. Is that good enough for you?”

Graham blinked in astonishment. “Uh, yes, sir. Definitely good enough for now.”

“You, on the other hand…” The old man’s shrewd eyes assessed him. “You have no such excuse. Cadence is right here on this ranch— somewhere — and she needs a champion. A knight in shining armor, if you will.”

“Then I’m the wrong guy, because I’m no kind of hero.” Did women today even want to have some guy swoop in and rescue them?

“Nonsense. You’re the right one. You just need to get yourself a backbone, and the only way I know to do that is to commit your way to the Lord and let Him direct your path.”

Sometimes the old man made a lot of sense.

“You can follow your cousin’s example — Tate, that is, not Paul — and build here on the ranch or make your home in Chicago. But get off your rear and do something about that girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wait, how had he agreed? Conditioning. What Grandfather decreed got an automatic salute.

“What are you waiting for?”