When the meeting’s over, I approach Barb and ask if I can speak to her. She leads me to a small office area at the back of the barn. I suspect it was built out of what used to be stables, because instead of cube walls, the area has horse head-high wooden dividers, now painted a clean, bright white. I follow her into her office.
“You didn’t mention that Gabe is the primary decision maker.”
“A primary decision maker.” Barb emphasizes the A.
“Is that how he would describe himself?”
Barb’s gaze dances away from mine.
“I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the information,” I tell her quietly.
“I’m sorry. I just—I knew that you’d want to talk to him, and I knew if you talked to him…” She trails off.
“You knew he wouldn’t be on board. He wouldn’t have even agreed to talk to me.”
She closes her eyes.
“Why did he agree to talk to me?”
For a moment I think she’s going to lie to me—her eyes once again flick to the corner of the room. “Because I told him I’d give him my share of the business if he heard you out.”
I nod. I’m not surprised. I knew something big had to be on the line to get him to be as cooperative as he’d been today.
Not that he’d looked happy about it. His face had kept its grim lines through the whole meeting, getting even grimmer when his brothers started inviting me on their trips.
I’m going.
I couldn’t decide how I felt about the fact that he was going to trail me everywhere I went. On one hand, I wasn’t looking forward to being watched like a hawk.
On the other hand, I had to admit that I liked the feel of his eyes on me. Way too much.
“This won’t work if he hates the idea.”
“He hates it now,” Barb says. “But I think he’ll come around. No. I know he’ll come around.”
“I don’t know. That speech he gave about the land and their souls didn’t sound like a man on the brink of being convinced.”
Barb looks away, then back. Her eyes glisten. “You have to understand about Gabe. His father died when he was fifteen. And then as if that wasn’t enough, I was diagnosed with breast cancer less than a year after that.” She winces, just a hint of the grief and fear I know she must be remembering. “Gabe stepped up like you wouldn’t believe. He held down the fort while I was going back and forth, getting chemo. Never flinched. Since then, he’s been running the business and taking care of his brothers. He was a serious kid even before that, but since then… he never really got to be a teenager, never let himself be anything but head of this family. He doesn’t make a move unless it’s the right one for all of us. But if he sees that it is—he’ll be the first to jump in with both feet.”
Something in my heart cracks for a fifteen-year-old boy transformed overnight into the serious man that Gabe is now. I know a thing or two about growing up too fast. But I’m also a businesswoman. I know better than to pour weeks of work into a lost cause.
She must see it on my face because she says, “I’ll double your fee.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “You’ll—what?”
“If you go on those trips with the boys—with my sons—no matter what the outcome turns out to be, I’ll give you a bonus equal to the amount we’re already contracted for.”
Now we’re talking about enough money for me to launch my own agency, nearly debt free. I wouldn’t have to go back to work at Grand Plan. I wouldn’t have to face the looks and the whispers.
“I thought the business was hurting.”
“Don’t worry about where the money is coming from. I have personal savings.”
“You’d—”
“You have no idea how important this is to me,” Barb says.
I don’t really understand, but I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I tell myself that it’s none of my business what motivates Barb, not unless it directly affects the job I’m doing for her.
“Draw up a contract,” I say. “Make sure it specifies that the money isn’t contingent on outcome, only on going on the three trips that were mentioned.”
“Four,” she says.
“I don’t ski.”
She waves that off. “It’s not ski season, anyway. But you have to go hunting with Gabe.”
“I—what?”
“Four trips. Charter fishing with Brody, survival camping with Clark, rafting with Easton, hunting with Gabe.”
I open my mouth to say I’m not a fan of hunting, then close it again. She’s offering me enough money not to have to walk the halls of Grand Plan with a scarlet A on my chest. Enough money to have a real fresh start.
My heart lifts at the thought. I can manage four outdoor adventures. I’m a big girl. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“You’ll have to get new shoes,” she says, giving my black-and-silver pumps the side-eye.
“What is it with you guys and my shoes?”
“I don’t really think I need to answer that,” Barb says, with a small snort. “Also. Your mother texted to say you need a place to stay.”
I wince. “Yes. Between us, we botched the hotel situation pretty badly. And I’ve called every hotel within reasonable driving distance of Rush Creek. All booked starting this weekend for at least a week.”
“The loft upstairs is set up as a guest room,” Barb says. “You can stay there as long as you need to. It’ll save you a bunch of money, too. No hotel costs.”
“Wait. Upstairs here? In the barn?”
She nods. “Can’t get more convenient than that, can you?”
I blink. “No. Er—is there a bathroom up there?”
“Not up there, but there’s a bathroom down here. No shower, but you can use the shower at the house.”
I’d forgotten this part of small-town life. People’s willingness to welcome you into their homes. “That’s—that’s very kind of you,” I tell Barb. “That will be a huge help. It’s not the ideal time to crash with Mom and Gregg right now.”
“Oh, it’s not even a matter of kindness,” Barb says. “It makes absolute sense.” She puts a hand behind my back and leads me out of her office, back into the big central area. “I’ll give you Gabe’s cell number so you can text him when you’re heading over.”
“When I’m heading over—?” I’m super confused now.
“To shower. Just so you don’t catch him at a bad moment.”
“Wait. Why would I catch him—?”
“He lives in the house.”
Oh. No. No, that is a bad idea. A very bad idea. “He lives with you? I thought you lived there.”
“I used to, but it didn’t make sense anymore. I moved to an apartment in town and now I can walk everywhere, and Gabe is right here since he’s in the barn all the time anyway.”
“I don’t think Gabe would appreciate—”
“Oh, don’t worry about Gabe.”
“Don’t worry about Gabe what?” a deep, rumbly voice asks.
The man himself. Looking as pissed as you’d expect. Glowering at both me and his mother like we’re in cahoots—which I guess we are, even though I never intended that.
I hold his stare, not willing to yield ground to Mr. Glower. Except, whoops, I’d forgotten about Gabe’s eyes. Dark and intense and locked on mine. A wave of warmth sweeps through me, and I’m overwhelmingly relieved when he looks away first, turning his ire on his mother.
“I told Lucy she could stay in the loft while she’s here, and shower at the house.”
“You told her what?” Gabe roars.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” I squeak.
I think Gabe and his mother have a few things to talk about.