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“Thanks. But speaking of staying in Dallas?—”

“Ugh, your father and the ranch. Right. My lawyers are working on it, sweetheart. They agree that the stipulation is totally ridiculous, but we need to give them some time to get it in front of a judge. We’ll get there.” She reaches across the white tablecloth to pat my hand. “Be patient. Focus on Bellamy Brooks in the meantime. You’ll get the money.”

The restaurant, totally full, hums around us. It’s the kind of place where people like Mom do power lunches. And like Mom, everyone is dressed to impress. I love the fashion—lots of long skirts, paired with designer belts and cute tops—and my stomach flips when I think about how great it would all look paired with Bellamy Brooks boots.

That is, if Bellamy Brooks doesn’t go under before we release our next collection, which will only happen if we get a major—major—cash infusion.

Wheeler and I dreamed up the concept for a women’s cowboy boot company when we were seniors at the University of Texas. We wanted to make classic cowboy boots with a girlie, high-fashion twist. Building the company was our side gig for close to five years, until we saved enough money from our corporate jobs to give it a go full-time.

We poured our savings into Bellamy Brooks, and Wheeler contributed some additional money she borrowed from her grandparents.

Mom also made a sizable investment. She’s workedincredibly hard over the years to build her business, and it’s finally paying off: Brown Real Estate Brokerage (Mom went back to her maiden name of Brown after the divorce) is now one of Dallas’s top-tier firms with over twenty agents.

Her making the investment in Bellamy Brooks was amazing, even if she kindly but firmly said that was the extent of her financial involvement.

Altogether, it was enough to launch our first real collection last year. The collection, composed of two boot styles in five different colors, was exceptionally well received. But between manufacturing costs and the marketing campaign we did, Wheeler and I ended up not making a dime in profit.

Thankfully, we had enough extra cash to keep us afloat. That is, until recently, as our expenses continue to outrun our income. Our second collection, which we’ve been working on all year,hasto do well if we want to stay in business.

Luckily, we’re obsessed with the collection, and we feel it really can soar. The designs we’ve been working on are classic with a bold, edgy twist. Think boots embroidered with hearts, stars, even diamond rings for a pair we’re calling The Bride.

We couldn’t stop screaming as we sketched everything out. Designing the collection was fun. But we’ve been burning through cash to pay our bills, to the point that I get a stomachache every time I receive an invoice from our (very expensive) web designer, or the email marketing service we use, or our accountant, or graphic designer, or payroll company…

The list goes on.

But then Dad dies suddenly of a heart attack at the age of fifty-six. It was a total shock. When Mom told me I was the sole heir to Dad’s estate, everything changed.

Our company is now getting the capital infusion we so desperately need. Just last week, I contacted our manufacturer to place a huge order. The kind of huge that made me want to go down several bottles of wine and cut up mycorporate card. But knowing I was about to receive an inheritance meant I could breathe a little easier.

Placing the order is still a huge risk. One that makes me feel like I’m being repeatedly stabbed in the stomach, especially now that I’m not sure when I’ll be getting that inheritance. If I’ll be getting it at all.

Then again, I’ve had some stomach ailment or another for close to five years now. I’ve seen every gastroenterologist in the greater Dallas-Fort Worth area. And everyone says the same thing: they don’t know what’s wrong, but I should manage my stress better and try a few different diets to see if I have any food-based triggers.

I haven’t found any so far. As for managing my stress, well, that’s a work in progress.

“Let’s go big,” Wheeler said when I told her about getting my trust. “If we have the money, we go all out. You don’t want to feel like you left anything on the table, do you? Because if we do this right, I really do believe the sky’s the limit.”

Over the years, we’d eagerly watched other Texas-born brands hit the stratosphere. There was the pair of sisters whose line of hand-painted wallpaper and fabrics ended up on the cover ofElle Decor.A jewelry designer, Cate, has made millions, selling gold-plated chain necklaces and bracelets from her studio in Austin. Some guys from college banded together to make canned ranch waters. Now their products are sold in nearly every grocery store in nearly every state, and they just signed a deal to be the “official cocktail provider” for a very famous Dallas sports franchise.

“Why not us?” I’d replied to Wheeler.

She smiled. “Why not indeed?”

Although when I’m tossing and turning in bed, I sometimes wonder if my thirst for Bellamy Brooks’s success comes from a genuine love of the boots we make or if, as my therapisthas suggested, there’s another reason I push myself so hard.

A reason that may or may not have something to do with finally getting my parents’ attention.

It’s not rocket science. My mom has a big, busy life, and Dad was so busy withhislife, he was never really a part of mine after Mom and I left the ranch when I was six.

I think the lonely kid I was—maybe still am—believes that if I hit the stratosphere, Mom will finally look up from her phone with pride in her eyes. And Dad—well, he might finally want to be a part of my life, and I might finally have the courage to sit down with him and have the conversation we should’ve had years ago about righting everything we did wrong in our relationship.

Too late now.

It all started nearly twenty-eight years ago, when Mom met Dad at a honky-tonk in Austin. He was in town for the rodeo, and she was there for a friend’s bachelorette party. After a whirlwind courtship, they got married six months later and moved onto Dad’s family’s ranch in Hartsville.

A month after that, Mom got pregnant with me.

The way she tells it, ranch life was isolating and monotonous, especially after I was born. She was alone, caring for a colicky newborn, while Dad was out on the ranch, doing his cowboy thing. Mom is from Dallas, and like me, she’s a city girl through and through. She wasn’t used to the quiet or the loneliness of life in the country.