Page 31 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)
T he week went by in a blur. The construction on the new arena was full steam ahead. We accepted the bid given by a highly recommended contracting firm out of Jackson Hole on Wednesday, and they began the surveying process on Thursday.
Carla and I spent hours going over schedules and budgets while Holland flew to Kentucky, leaving everything in my hands.
I spent Thursday evening at Wildhaven Storm, having dinner with Matty and her family before the two of us snuck off to make out in the barn like a couple of horny teenagers. She came while bent over a hay bale with my face between her legs.
It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Friday morning, I was up bright and early to meet the mortgage loan officer at the bank and sign all the needed paperwork to secure the loan and close on the property before heading to the farm for the weekend.
Mom is out front, gathering leaves, when I pull up the drive.
“This is what I hired the landscaping company for,” I say as I rush over to take the rake from her hands.
She swipes at her forehead with a gloved hand. “I told those boys they didn’t need to come back until spring,” she says.
“Why? They could have done this for you.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t realize the leaves were so bad until Howie delivered the pumpkins and mums I’d ordered, and I came out to decorate the yard for Thanksgiving.”
“No one is going to see your decorations from the road,” I remind her .
“I know. That doesn’t mean I don’t want a pretty yard. I’ll see it, and so will the mailman.”
I shake my head, but I know better than to argue with a woman’s logic.
I send her inside as I finish up raking and bagging all the fallen leaves. Then I sweep her porch and the walk that leads from the house to the mailbox at the top of the road.
When I’m done, I wash up, and we sit down to the dinner she prepared.
“So, you close on your new homestead next week, correct?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am. Just signed the papers for the loan this morning,” I reply as I grab a roll to sop up the mushroom gravy my Salisbury steak is swimming in.
“And you have the money you need to build?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I had those costs factored into the loan. Plus, I’ve got a good chunk of change saved.”
“Okay. Just so you know, I have the money from your father’s life insurance payout—”
“Mom,” I interrupt, “that money is for you to live on for the rest of your life.”
She waves me off. “Oh, please. What do I need it for? The farm is paid off, and I receive his Social Security benefits.”
“You need it for incidentals. Property taxes, homeowners and auto insurance, medical bills, and anything else that pops up outside of your normal utilities and groceries. Plus, that old Jeep isn’t gonna last forever,” I say.
I tear off a piece of bread and run it over my plate when I hear a soft sniffle and look up. “Mom? You okay?”
“I just … your father took care of all that stuff. I don’t know what I owe to whom.”
I reach over and cover her hand. “That’s okay. The bills will show up when they come due.”
“What if they don’t? What if they go to some old email address of his or something?”
“Mom, Dad’s passing wasn’t sudden. He knew he was dying.
He made sure that everything would be easy for you.
Including making sure you he had a decent-sized insurance policy.
You have nothing to be afraid of,” I assure her.
“Tell you what. I’ll go through his office tomorrow, every file, and I’ll get things in order and show you where to find everything. ”
She nods.
“So, I have a question for you,” I say, changing the subject to one I know will perk her back up.
“What’s that?”
“I was thinking that you could come to Ironhorse for Thanksgiving. Priscilla mentioned she would love someone to cook with, and while you’re there, I could take you out to show you the property,” I say. Then I add the final temptation. “And I want to introduce you to Matty and her family.”
I can see the indecision on her face. But I really want her to agree because I’d like to stay in Wildhaven for Thanksgiving, but if she doesn’t come, I’ll be here. I’m not letting her spend it alone.
She looks around. “I’ve always cooked Thanksgiving dinner right here in the kitchen.”
“I know.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to things being different.”
I don’t say anything, just wait for her to decide.
Her eyes come to mine. “I’ll come for Thanksgiving, but I’ll be here for Christmas.”
I smile. “So will I.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to introduce me to a girl,” she says, her voice brightening.
The truth is, I’m a bit surprised, but I want them to know each other. I’d even like to bring Matty to the farm with me someday and show her where I grew up.
It happened so fast. Just a couple of weeks ago, we were sitting in the attorney’s office, and I asked her on our first official date. Now, she’s the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last voice I want to hear before I go to sleep at night.
I fell in love when I wasn’t paying attention. Just like Dad always said he did with Mom.