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“Yeah,” Amos replied.
“We can go through the ledgers then,” I told him. “I’m going to sell the ranch. Looking at buyers already.”
"Do whatever you want." Amos sounded irritated. "The ranch is yours."
Yeah, it was.
I hadn’t doubted my decision to offload the whole damn thing—until I got here. Until I breathedin the dust, the horses, the hay. Until I felt the land under my boots, the pull of something old and profound in my bones, I hadn’t expected that and had definitely not expected the hesitation, the way the thought of selling suddenly felt like a mistake.
I was still at my desk, sleeves rolled up, reviewing the files on the computer, when Fiona appeared in the doorway, dressed to the nines in a tight black dress. She’d only brought black with her, she told me, because we were technically mourning. Her heels were high, and she wore the diamonds I’d given her for Christmas.
It struck me then that I never bought Elena anything.Nothing.
I picked wildflowers for her that she kept even after they dried up, treating them like diamonds.
"Duke.” Fiona’s red lips curved in expectation.
"You need to get ready."
We were having dinner with Senator Otis Jessup and his wife. And a few others. I knew they wanted to get their hands on Wilder Ranch and use the property to develop ski resorts, airports…whatever. Nash would have nothing to do with it, and since Elena was more or less running his business, I could see he hadn’t had to sell a damn sliver of land he didn’t want to. Now, I knew why I was being chased down—they knew I’d sell, unlike Nash.
I groaned out a breath. "Right."
Fiona crossed the room heels clicking against the hardwood. She set my iPhone on the desk beside me. "You left this in the bedroom. Your mother wants to talk to you.”
I suppressed a sigh. “Now?”
“Now,” Fiona agreed.
I hesitated but ultimately called my mother. "Mama," I greeted.
"Duke," she breathed, and just like that, I was ten years old again, desperate to keep her from breaking.
Gloria Wilder was delicate. Too delicate for this world, for my father, for this damn ranch. Even now, her voice was soft, wispy, like a feather floating just before it fell.
“I’m very anxious, baby.”
I had to smother the desire to say take a Xanax because she’d once taken too many. I sometimes felt like I was her hostage, always worried that she’d keel over and it would somehow be my fault. Especially now, with Nash gone, I’d have no one else to blame.
I loved my mother. I did. But I didn’t always like her. Now, when I needed to focus on other things, and she knew I did, she demanded my attention because when I gave it to her, she felt loved. After all, I chose her above everything else. And, thanks to my father, she needed to be chosen all the fucking time. I was grateful that my mother liked Fiona because there had been other girlfriends, who my mother had not been able to stand and had begged and pleaded with me to let them go because she was scared they’d take me away from her.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” I urged politely.
I knew exactly what the fuck was wrong. She was going to have to come here for Nash’s funeral. I’d told her she didn’t have to, but she worried about whatpeople would think. That was the other thing with Mama—she constantly worried about what everyone thought of her, the family, Nash…the world. It was exhausting for her and drove me up the fucking wall, because I didn’t give a flying fuck about people’s perceptions.
“I…I don’t know what to wear, son.” She sniffled, and I knew she was crying.
For fuck’s sake!“Mama, just anything black will be fine. I chartered a plane for you and?—”
“Can you come and get me? I don’t want to travel by myself.” She sounded like a little girl.
“Mama, I have a lot of?—”
“Please, Duke,” she sobbed. “I can’t do this alone.”
A sigh slipped out of me. “Sure, Mama, I’ll come down and get you.” And waste my fucking time being on a fucking plane when I had a shit ton of work to do not just with Wilder Ranch but my company as well.
“Thanks so much, Duke. You’re the best son a mother could have.”