Authors: Rebecca H Jamison
Her headache only got worse over the course of the next day,
culminating in the arrival of Azalea Curtis Robinson, her mom. She made her
appearance at 5:00 p.m. in a pink, Indian sari and ballet flats. Her blonde
hair had grown longer than Rosie’s and hung down her back in waves. In the
trunk of her sedan, she brought two suitcases, a cooler, and six cans of paint.
“Where’s Jeff?” she asked Rosie.
“He’s been on his phone in the den ever since he brought Grandpa home.”
Rosie examined a gallon of sandy-beige semi-gloss and another of bright white
high gloss. “What’s all the paint for?”
Her mom heaved a suitcase out of her trunk. “Jeff says when you’re
trying to sell a house, it’s a good idea to paint the walls a neutral color. He
thought we should give the place a little makeover.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. They’re all environmentally friendly. The smell won’t
bother Dad at all.”
Rosie looked out across the vegetable garden to the pasture beyond. It
seemed both her mom and her uncle wanted to sell the ranch. Didn’t anybody care
about
her
feelings? “Are you sure Grandpa really wants to sell? I think
he just feels guilty that he can’t do as much work as he used to.”
Azalea pulled her suitcases so they bumped over the gravel driveway. “You
and I both know it’s not safe for Dad to stay home by himself all day. If we
sell the ranch like Jeff wants, Dad can afford to stay in an assisted living
center. I’ve seen some really nice ones in Albuquerque.”
Rosie took a suitcase from her mom and lifted it up the steps to the
porch. “Grandpa wouldn’t be happy in a place like that.”
Azalea wobbled her head from side to side as she hefted her other
suitcase up the stairs to the porch. “I don’t see any other solution.”
Rosie set the suitcase down next to the front door. “I do. I’ll buy the
ranch, and Grandpa can stay here with me.”
Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Rosie went on. “After the sale goes through, he’ll have enough money to
hire someone to help him during the day.” Rosie pushed the door open. Then she
pulled her mom’s suitcase past Grandpa and down the hall to the back bedroom.
Her mom followed her, plopping down on the twin bed Rosie used to
sleep in. “I’m not sure buying this place would be the best investment for you,
Rosie. It’s not like you’d make any money off it, and it could tie you down for
years.”
Rosie pulled Grandma’s quilt off the top end of the bed before she sat
down next to her mom. “I don’t mind being tied to Lone Spur.”
Her mom adjusted her legs into a yoga pose. “I love it here too, but
there are so many more opportunities elsewhere. Think about it. You could work
for someone other than Phil Moore, and you could buy yourself a cute little
house like your friend Jade’s. The houses in Copper City are really affordable.”
Rosie had to admit that sounded appealing, especially the part about
not working for Phil Moore.
“I know you love your animals,” Azalea said. “But it might be time for
them to find new homes. They’re in much better shape than they were when you
rescued them.”
Rosie reached to pet her orange calico cat, Clementine, as it rubbed
against her leg. “I don’t want to give them up.”
“Does Jeff know about your plan?”
Rosie stood up from the bed. “No.” He would probably think she was
trying to take advantage of Grandpa. He already thought she was mooching off
him by just living here.
“Well, what does Dad think?”
“You know what he thinks—that ranching is a man’s job. He doesn’t think
I can do it by myself.”
Azalea extended her legs, stretched, and stood up from the bed. “I’m
thirsty. Do you want a drink?”
Rosie followed her mom to the kitchen. “I have a raging headache. I
should probably take something again.”
Azalea opened a cabinet, removed two glasses and poured water into
them. She handed one to Rosie. “Dad has a point, you know. Not the part about
you being a woman, but the part about running a ranch by yourself.”
Rosie found a pain killer in the cabinet and downed it while she
considered that it was time to start telling people about her engagement. “I
won’t be by myself. Tanner and I are getting married.”
Azalea set her glass down hard on the counter. “You don’t mean the
Smiths’ boy?”
Rosie nodded. “He’s twenty-four, Mom.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Has he given you a ring?”
“We haven’t had time to shop for one.”
“Now that I’m here, you’ll have time.” Azalea stepped back, eyeing
Rosie. “You’re not just marrying this guy to keep the ranch?” Of all the
questions for her mother to ask. How hypocritical could she be? Though her
mother had always married for love, she’d also made sure each marriage benefited
her bank balance.
Rosie did her best to sound confident. “Tanner is exactly the kind of
man I want to marry. He’s responsible, energetic, caring. I’ve never seen him
abuse an animal. He’s a hard worker.”
“Rosie, I know I’m the last person qualified to give marriage advice,
but I have learned a thing or two in the school of hard knocks. So I’ll tell
you this: the first year of marriage is the hardest. It’s no time to buy a
ranch.”
“I know that, Mom, but Tanner and I have been ranching all our lives.
We have what it takes to make this work.” There was nothing like disagreeing
with her mother to help her feel the conviction she’d lacked before. Of course
she would be happy with Tanner.
Azalea peeked around the corner into the front room, where Grandpa sat
in his wheelchair, watching the news. “What does Dad think of your plan?”
“We were going to tell him last night, but Tanner didn’t have time to
come to the hospital.” She tried to sound confident. “So he’s coming to talk to
Grandpa after dinner tonight.”
“I hope for Tanner’s sake that Dad is in a good mood.” Azalea looked at
her watch. “I’ll make sure he has a full stomach.” She walked out to her car
and came back with a bag of take-out. “I brought some barbeque. Mike Calhoun
should be here any minute.”
“Mike Calhoun?” Rosie tried to remember whether her mom was currently
dating someone by that name.
“Didn’t Jeff tell you?” Azalea pulled out a plastic container with a
restaurant label and dumped the enclosed barbecued ribs into a glass casserole
dish. “Mike’s a real estate agent up in Copper City. We went to high school
together.”
Rosie counted forks and knives from a drawer. “If I’m buying the ranch,
wouldn’t it be better to just get an estimate from an appraiser? Then I could
buy the home without having to pay a real estate agent’s fees.”
Her mother licked barbeque sauce off her finger. “You’re right. That
would be better, but we can’t afford to upset Jeff. Dad always listens to him
more than he listens to me, and besides that, if anything happens to Dad, Jeff
has power of attorney.” She tilted her head to the side, thinking. “You know
what, though? I can handle Mike. He’s an old friend.”
Rosie smiled as she set the table. This might have been the first time
in her life that her mom supported her in one of her plans. Sure, she still had
Uncle Jeff and Grandpa to convince, but she was sure that Grandpa would
eventually agree to keep the ranch in the family.
Sometimes, she felt like a teen in an adult body—a counterfeit teacher,
girlfriend, and credit card holder. Today, though, seemed like a rite of
passage. It reminded her of the day she’d bought the one-way bus ticket to her
grandparents’ home.
One could argue that she hadn’t gained any independence on the day she
came to live with her grandparents. They were stricter than her mom had ever
been. As her grandparents aged, though, she’d taken on more and more
responsibility until now she controlled most aspects of the ranch.
She and Tanner would both sacrifice some freedom when they joined their
lives together. Marriage would be a trade-off that way, but her loss of
independence would provide her with more control over her life.
“I’ll have to throw you two an engagement party while I’m here,” her
mom said as she placed the casserole dish on the table.
Rosie bit her lip. “Only if you promise not to paint anything.”
Her mother pointed to the red wall with the Post-it note-covered
paintings. “I can’t promise not to do that wall.”
Rosie laughed. “That’s the only part of this house I’ll let you change.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Uncle Jeff rushed in from the den. “That
must be the real estate agent.”
“I’ll get it,” Azalea called, rushing to beat her brother to the door.
Jeff stood back as Azalea hugged Mike, a gray-haired man who was a
little on the paunchy side. Despite his appearance, Azalea flirted away. Rosie unlocked
the brakes on Grandpa’s wheelchair and pushed him to the table, thinking it
would put an end to the banter, but Azalea kept it up as they ate, chattering
on about their high school days.
Jeff interrupted a few times with questions about real estate, but
Azalea always steered the conversation back to the past. For forty-five
minutes, Mike and Azalea relived the homecoming parade, dance, and football
game of their senior year. They’d never dated in high school, but they both
agreed they’d have been much better off with each other than with the ones they’d
chosen.
Rosie glanced at the clock. Where was Tanner? He was supposed to be
here by six-thirty.
After dinner, they moved to the living room. Mike pulled a stack of
papers from his messenger bag. “So, Mr. Curtis, Jeff tells me you’re interested
in selling. I’ll be happy to give you a discount commission rate. How’s four
percent sound?”
Grandpa snuffled as if he’d woken from a nap.
Azalea laid a hand on Mike’s forearm. “I have a confession to make.
When Jeff called you this morning, we didn’t know that one of our relatives wanted
to buy the ranch. I’m afraid we should have called an appraiser instead. Not
that I regret having you over for dinner. It’s been so good to reconnect.”
Jeff stole a glance in Rosie’s direction. “We have no intention of
doing business with relatives.”
Grandpa twisted the end of his mustache. “Four percent sounds like a
good deal to me.”
Mike’s smile returned, and he held the contract out toward Grandpa. “I
could tell driving up here that you’ve taken care of the place. Usually I see a
lot more problems in an old ranch like this—lots of stuff to de-junk, sludge in
the irrigation ditches, out-of-control weeds, broken-down fences. I saw hardly
any of that here.”
Rosie waited for someone to give her credit for keeping the place up so
well, but no one said anything.
Mike dug into his bag again, pulling out a file folder. “I brought some
information on other ranches that have degraded in the area.” He pointed out
the Farnsworth ranch. “Since your place is in such good condition, I’d
recommend you list it at 20,000 more than they sold the Farnsworth ranch for.”
Rosie gulped. She hadn’t expected that she might have to pay more money
because of all her hard work to keep up the ranch.
Grandpa let out a whistle. “Well, I’ll be.”
“We might as well list it then,” Jeff said, reaching for the stack of
papers in Mike’s hand. “Do you have a contract for us to sign?”
Grandpa scratched his neck where his sling rubbed. “I’ve already had
some interest from a fellow down the lane.”
Rosie gritted her teeth. Destry had caused too much stress for her this
week. She glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering why Tanner hadn’t arrived
yet. Had he forgotten he’d promised to come over tonight? “Grandpa,” Rosie
said, “We need to talk about this.”
Grandpa didn’t seem to have heard her. “There’s no use putting it off.
I might as well go ahead and list it.”
Rosie spoke as loudly as she could. “Tanner and I want to buy the
ranch. We’re going to get married.”
Uncle Jeff groaned, shaking his head.
A knock sounded on the screen door as Grandpa stared at Rosie. “Marry
Tanner Smith? You’ll be robbing the cradle.” The door swung open and in walked
Tanner, wearing his T-shirt tucked into his Wranglers. Grandpa didn’t notice
that he’d come in. “You’d be better off staying single.”
Azalea stood up, trailing the tips of her fingers across Mike’s
shoulders. “I hate to be a bother, Mike, but I’d like your opinion on the roof.
Do you mind looking at it?”
Mike reached for her hand. “No problem.”
“It’s so nice to have an expert around.” She escorted him past Tanner,
and they stepped outside together.
Tanner’s face held that in-between expression Rosie always found
confusing. He’d obviously overheard Grandpa, but was he angry or embarrassed by
it? “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Curtis, I’d like to know why you think
Rosie’s better off single than married to me?” He didn’t sound angry, just
interested.
The old man adjusted his hearing aid. “For one thing, you didn’t ask my
permission before you proposed.”