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“Weston?”

“Sir.”

The old man chuckled. “Now that we know who we are, what can I help you with?”

Weston took a long breath. This was the first time he’d sought out his patriarch in all the time since they’d met less than a year and a half ago. “I’ve been doing some thinking, sir.”

Grandfather’s hands were folded on the desk in front of him, his shrewd eyes focused on Weston. He was paying full attention, but he wasn’t going to make it any easier, either.

But where to even begin? “First, I want to thank you for welcoming my mother, my brother, and me into your family.”

“It’s my pleasure, boy. I would have done it years ago had I known of your existence.”

Somehow, Weston believed him. Even if the truth had come out while Mrs. Sullivan had still been alive, Grandfather would have opened his arms. “I know I haven’t been the easiest one to win over. I guess I was suspicious.”

Grandfather nodded. Waited.

“I’m sorry I doubted you and made things more difficult. More awkward.”

“Already forgiven, boy. This whole situation flipped our entire universe end-over-end. Yours as well as mine. I can understand you needing some time to come to grips with the ramifications.”

“You took it in stride from the first day.”

The man chuckled. “You didn’t see my inner turmoil. It was a maelstrom in there while I grappled with all I’d known, what I thought I’d known, and what people would do when they found out.”

“I know your sons weren’t thrilled to discover they had a half-sister.”

“No, but I always wanted a daughter. You have to admit this family is heavily weighted toward the testosterone end of the spectrum.”

“Yes, sir.” Weston managed a short chuckle himself. “That’s true.”

“Turns out the only people who cared deeply about this aspect of my past were James and Theodore. The boys — your cousins — came around quickly once you were all brought together.”

“Brilliant move, sir. And one I didn’t fully appreciate at the time. I was wary of your motives. I thought you’d say, ‘Just kidding!’ as you pulled the rug out from under us.”

“I would never.”

“I know that now.”

“How much do you like your position as head wrangler? Would you like to try something different? Become a pilot? Start your own business? What would you do if you could do anything you wanted?”

Dreams. Weston and Mom had talked about those. “Definitely not flying planes. Jude can have the skies with my blessing. No competition from me.”

Grandfather grinned. “Fair enough. I never aspired to piloting myself, but I encouraged James’s interest, and I’m happy to facilitate Jude’s. We can use another pilot or two in the family. Maybe pick up a Cessna for local sightseeing tours. That might be popular with our guests.”

Weston blinked. This man might be in his 80s, but he had the ability to pivot with little notice. “Sounds genius.”

“But enough about planes if that’s not your interest. What is? Getting involved in the glamping stuff the boys are on about? The treehouses and the Conestoga wagons?”

“Not really.”

“Then what?”

“I-I don’t know, sir. I never allowed myself dreams growing up. There was no chance they’d ever come true, so I didn’t go there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Weston had done all his dreaming via fiction. That had been almost as good as if it happened to him, since it didn’t involve risk or discomfort. Huh. Was that what he was avoiding? He didn’t mind discomfort so much, but peril? Maybe. But he’d taken a big risk last night when he’d kissed Paisley — twice — and it had stoked the only dreams he could remember having.