Page 6 of Friends are Forever (Teton Mountain #6)

C harlie Grace stabbed the shovel into the wheelbarrow, the sharp scent of compost rising with the afternoon warmth.

A light steam curled off the heap of aged manure and straw, proof the rich fertilizer was still warm from the pile behind the barn.

She worked in rhythm, flipping scoops over the rows of withered vines and brittle stalks, remnants of a summer that had given more than it had taken.

Tomato vines, now limp and brown, had once been heavy with crimson orbs—big juicy slicers, sweet yellow cherries, and thick-walled romas that Aunt Mo swore made the best sauce.

Over in the far bed, where beans had run wild across a handmade trellis, empty tendrils clung like brittle fingers.

The snap peas were long gone, but Charlie Grace could still taste their crisp sweetness, plucked fresh and dipped in hummus on the porch while Jewel ran barefoot through the grass.

She paused to wipe a strand of hair from her cheek, mentally picturing the stacked mason jars in the pantry.

Rows of pickled beets, dilly beans, and Aunt Mo’s famous sweet corn relish lined the shelves, their colors promising delicious meals during the long Teton winter.

They’d canned late into the night last week, laughing about the exploded jar of apple butter and debating whether jalapeno jam really needed that much sugar.

With a grunt, Charlie Grace sank the shovel again and turned another mound of compost. It felt good to work the soil, to mark the end of something with intention. And maybe—if she could admit it to herself—it felt even better to be doing it alone, her thoughts clear.

Suddenly, the distant whine of a saw split the quiet, followed by the rhythmic thud of a nail gun.

Charlie Grace winced. The construction crew had returned from their lunch break and were now pounding away at the guest cabins on the east side of the property.

What had begun as a promise of growth now grated on her nerves, the constant noise shattering the rare stillness she found in the garden.

She sighed. The peace she’d carved out in the dirt was no match for progress.

The sound of a distant engine rose above the noise of construction, pulling Charlie Grace’s attention toward the tree-lined lane that led up from the road.

A dust plume curled in the sunlight as a familiar green pickup bounced into view.

Lila’s truck. Charlie Grace leaned on her shovel, shielding her eyes with one hand and lifting the other in a wave.

Lila parked just off the gravel, boots hitting the ground a second later. She slammed the door with her hip, her long chestnut-colored braid swinging as she made her way over.

“Afternoon,” she called, stepping around the wheelbarrow.

“You’re just in time for the manure party,” Charlie Grace said with a grin.

Lila smirked. “Hard pass.”

Charlie Grace gestured toward the porch. “Thanks for coming out to check on the pups.”

“Happy to do it,” Lila said, swiping her sleeve across her forehead. “Man, it’s still warm out. But frost is coming. You can smell it in the air.”

Charlie Grace planted the shovel in the dirt. “Coffee’s inside if you want a cup. How’s things at Paws in the Pines?” She pointed and started walking in the direction of the house.

Lila groaned, brushing a hand down her jeans as if wiping away the memory. “This morning, we had a Labrador come in with a pus-filled abscess the size of a grapefruit on his?—”

Charlie Grace’s hands flew up. “Okay! Okay. I take my question back.”

Lila laughed, clearly unbothered. “You asked. You know I don’t sugarcoat.”

“Never have,” Charlie Grace muttered, chuckling despite herself. Lila was known for her lack of filters.

Lila shrugged, her face flushed from the afternoon sun—or maybe from the chaos she’d just escaped. “It smelled like roadkill and sour milk, if you must know.”

“I mustn’t,” Charlie Grace said, reaching for the back screen door handle. “But I’m glad you’re here. One of the pups seems to be not be eating like the others.”

The screen door hinges creaked open as Charlie Grace led the way into the kitchen, the smell of fresh earth trailing in behind them. Sunlight poured through the wide windows, catching the gleam of copper pans hanging over the stove.

Clancy Rivers sat near the window in his wheelchair, a worn copy of a Western Horseman magazine propped open in his lap. His reading glasses perched low on his nose, and he looked up with a smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Well, look who’s come to visit,” he said, voice warm and gravelly. “Morning, Lila.”

“Hi, Clancy.” Lila crossed the kitchen and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Still keeping Charlie Grace in line?”

“Best I can,” he said with a wink. “But she’s always been a little headstrong.”

“Runs in the family,” Charlie Grace said, while washing her hands at the kitchen sink. She brushed her hands on a dish towel, then moved toward the coffee pot.

Clancy nodded toward Lila. “You here to see those dogs Jewel found?”

“Yes,” Lila replied, her voice shifting into her vet-clinic tone. “I thought I’d check them over and make sure all’s well.”

Clancy’s brow furrowed. He looked squarely at Charlie Grace. “Don’t go letting that little girl get too attached.”

Then he turned to Lila. “That granddaughter of mine is just like her mother. She’d adopt a rock if you let her.”

Charlie Grace laughed as she poured two mugs. “And mother it by tucking it in each night.”

Lila grinned and accepted the coffee. “She’s got a soft heart. Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, but soft hearts bruise easy,” Clancy said, folding his magazine and setting it aside. “Especially when they start thinking every stray was sent just for them.”

The comment hung gently in the air, not heavy, just real—and true enough to tug at Charlie Grace’s chest. She handed Lila a mug and took a seat beside her dad.

“She’s resilient,” Charlie Grace said, quieter now. “But I’ll keep an eye.”

Clancy gave a slight nod, then adjusted his chair with a small humph. “That’s all I can hope for, you know. Someone looking out.”

He picked up the magazine again but didn’t open it, letting the words settle like dust in a sunbeam.

Lila glanced around the kitchen as she took a sip of coffee, her eyes catching the subtle but tasteful changes since her last visit.

“So, what do you think?” Charlie Grace asked, attempting to pry a compliment from her friend.

The old linoleum had been replaced with wide-plank hickory floors, and the cabinets—once a tired, honey oak—were now a creamy white with iron pulls.

A new farmhouse sink sat beneath the window, flanked by fresh herbs in terra-cotta pots.

Over the table, a handblown glass light fixture cast soft golden tones across the space.

It resembled one she’d seen in a magazine over at Reva’s.

“I like what you’ve done in here,” Lila said, turning in place to take it all in. “It still feels like your mama’s kitchen, but...lighter somehow.”

Clancy snorted from his chair. “Charlie Grace has got a pile of money now and still spends it like it’s coming outta my feed budget.”

Charlie Grace’s lips twitched, but she didn’t look at him right away. She kept her gaze on the sink for a moment longer, then offered a careful smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’m just trying to be thoughtful about expenditures,” she said quietly, the rim of her coffee mug pressed to her lips. “Money doesn’t change everything.”

Clancy let out a soft grunt, more sentiment than sass, and looked away.

Lila glanced between them but said nothing. She set her mug down, fingers tracing the rim absently. “Reva left town early this morning.”

Charlie Grace scowled. “Left? What do you mean?”

“Her Grand Memaw’s not doing well,” Lila said gently. “She got the call yesterday afternoon. Packed a bag and caught the first flight to Atlanta.”

Clancy looked up from his magazine. “That old woman still hanging on? Lord, I remember Reva talking about her back when you girls were in pigtails.”

“She’s been the backbone of that family,” Lila said. “And from what Reva told me, she’s slipping fast. Her mama said it’s a matter of days, maybe less.”

Charlie Grace’s eyes softened. “Poor Reva. She’s always been so close to her Grand Memaw. Remember how she used to send those care packages to her every holiday, and sometimes for no reason at all? Pecan pralines and cans of boiled peanuts?”

Lila smiled faintly. “And handwritten notes with Bible verses underlined in red ink. Reva used to roll her eyes, but you could tell she kept every single one.”

Clancy shifted in his chair. “That woman raised Reva right. Gave her a strong spine and a good heart. You don’t see that much anymore.”

“She’s got all of that and more,” Charlie Grace said. “But still—this will be hard. I know how much she hates leaving Thunder Mountain. Even just for a few days.”

Lila leaned back, folding her arms. “Not to mention Kellen and Lucan. Even so, this is not just a visit. Her mom hinted that there may be decisions ahead—big ones. The family’s pecan farm is a lot to manage.

Her daddy’s not getting any younger. The boys can’t seem to manage things on their own anymore. Reva’s going to feel that pull.”

A long silence fell over the kitchen. The ticking of the wall clock and the muffled hum of construction outside filled the space between them.

Charlie Grace finally spoke, her voice tight. “What are you saying?”

Lila didn’t answer right away. “Nothing particular. But Reva’s never been the type to walk away from responsibility. If her family needs her…I don’t know. She might try to find a way to do both, but something’s gotta give.”

Clancy tapped a finger on the armrest of his wheelchair. “That girl’s got a sense of duty a mile wide. Always did. Even as a teenager, she was looking after everyone else.”