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“No kidding?”

“He taught at the university level for a short time, intending to get his PhD. But he changed his mind, decided he wasn’t cut out for the academic life.”

“Well, you’re just a bunch of Rhodes Scholars over there, aren’t you?”

Westin smiled, his eyes jumping to Mollohan once more. The man was still glued to his phone like the only thing in the world that mattered to him was written on that screen.

“This is a lovely meal, Mrs. Mollohan.”

She smiled again. “I can’t take all the credit for it, but I’ll pass your compliments along to our cook.”

“I’m sure you had more to do with it than you’re implying.”

“Momma is very hands-on around here,” Rena agreed. “Nothing happens in this house that she doesn’t know about and didn’t put her stamp of approval on.”

“It’s all just part of running a proper home.”

Mollohan grunted. “It’s all just fluff. Women’s work.”

Without looking up, with just those meanly uttered words, Mollohan deflated his wife just like he’d pricked a balloon with a needle. The light left her eyes, the smile leapt from her mouth, and her whole body seemed to cave in right in front of Westin. His hands curled into fists, the urge to jump over that table almost too much to ignore.

Silence fell heavy over the room, both of the Mollohan women silent as they picked at their food. Westin touched Rena’s cheek lightly, just trying to draw that smile back out. She looked up, a sadness that was old and familiar filling her pretty eyes. She mouthed the word sorry, a blush burning across her cheeks.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for his rude behavior,” he said low enough that she didn’t have to worry about her dad hearing. “It’s not your fault.”

She kissed his cheek lightly. “Thank you.”

“Tell us about your family, Westin,” Mrs. Mollohan said a bit later as the dinner dishes were exchanged for dessert, a lovely fruit tort with a single scoop of ice cream.

“My mother’s from this area, actually,” he said around a bite of the sweet vanilla ice cream. “The other side of Milsap.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that how you ended up here?”

“Yes. She talked about the ranches out here so often that I just felt like I wanted to see them for myself.”

“Your mother must be so proud.”

“She would be, but she passed away a few years ago.” Westin set down his fork as his eyes moved over Mollohan again. “Cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Westin lowered his head slightly. “It was difficult to watch someone who’d worked so hard and so selflessly all my life to take care of me waste away as she did. I’d promised her the world, you know? When I made my fortune, I was going to set her up in a big, beautiful house, give her everything she might have had if I hadn’t ruined her dreams. But the cancer had other ideas.”

“I’m sure your mother wasn’t expecting anything from you. She did it because she loved you.”

Westin smiled. “I know she did. Worked three jobs sometimes just to give me every opportunity. I went to a good school, played sports, had everything I could have ever wanted. I didn’t even know we were poor until some kid told me, and I asked my mother about it. But she, like everything else she always did, told me that we were rich in love and that was all that mattered.”

Mollohan snorted. “Sounds like something someone who didn’t have anything would say.”

Westin’s fists clenched again. “She worked here, you know. Years ago.”

“Did she?” Mrs. Mollohan asked, curiosity written all over her face. “When?”

“Back in the early nineties. She was a ranch hand, one of only three women who got jobs on the ranches out here back then. She was proud of that fact.”