“I need to speak with Ford.”
“Well, that’s just too fucking bad, man, because he’s in court all day. What can I do you for?”
This Andy asshole was going to get himself beat half to death. The whole “Ford is the boss” thing was easy enough to deal with, because Christ knew Stoney gave less than two shits about whether or not the candles were ruby or scarlet, but this hysteria when he had a million things to handle—from the driving situation, to Geoff’s meltdown over the fact that Andy put foie gras—who the fuck liked that shit at a half-bazillion dollars a pound anyway—on the menu, to helping Sam hang the new doors on the office and the main foyer and helping Mira figure out the new computer system for registration and booking.
Stoney had his hands full, especially since Quartz’s teacher had just now announced she was pregnant and leaving once they found a replacement, Ty had announced that he didn’t think he’d make the party, and Stoney was fairly sure he was about thirty unlistened-to voice mails deep.
This whole ski weekend party thing was going to kill him. If he didn’t kill Andy first.
He kept reminding himself that the Gay Ski Week was a big deal to Ford, to this whole plan the man had to make this the Rainbow and Unicorn Dude Ranch.
“You don’t need to be profane,” Andy said, mouth tightening.
“No? Then quit pretending I’m the hired help and ask your question. I’m running harder than a two-legged greyhound.”
“I need you to talk to your cook.”
“He’s not serving foie gras.” If it was important enough to threaten to quit over, it didn’t need to be on the menu. Geoff was the cook. He could make his own menu.
“Yes, well, he’s changed the whole menu! This is not a barn dance. These are men with sophisticated palates, well traveled. Brisket isn’t acceptable.”
“It’s a ranch. There’s never a time in the history of the earth where brisket isn’t acceptable.” Besides, Geoff had let him try the little polenta cake with frizzled brisket yesterday.
That was what he wanted for his birthday every year until he died.
“But—”
“He’s the chef. When you go to the CIA, you can make menus.” Stoney folded his arms over his chest and stared. Hard.
Stubborn Texan cowboy was a role he’d been born for. Sort of literally.
“Ford is going to be unhappy if you destroy his party, you know. He’s worked like a dog on this.”
Stoney wasn’t 100 percent sure he believed that. Ford had worked on the ideas and made decisions, but when drywall needed hanging or the drain in the kitchen stopped up, it was his ass doing the actual work. But whatever.
“Then he can take it up with me. He’s in Santa Fe. He can’t help you. You have to deal with me.”
“I need greenery.” Andy stared at him as if he could pull boughs of holly out of his ass.
“Okay. What kind?” He’d send someone with no real work to do to mangle greenery in the name of prissiness.
“Something like this.” Andy pulled out a sleek smartphone and showed him a picture from some fancy magazine.
Huh. He was pretty sure that wasn’t real. “That’s something else. You want pine boughs?”
“Anything that smells nice.”
“Got it. Anything else I can actually do? Geoff’s off the table.” Stoney needed to get back to work.
“I need to know the parking situation is handled.”
“As well as we can. It’s too late to grade the road. A lot will depend on the weather.”
“These people will have sedans.”
“Who drives sedans in the mountains?” Weren’t these experienced skiers? What the hell?
“Most of these people. I tried to get a bus.”
“A bus.” Lord. “Well, I’ll keep a weather eye out.”
He’d have to think on how to keep all the fancy-assed clothes clean, he guessed.
“Well. If you hear from Ford, have him call me.” Andy turned on his heel and left, and Stoney fought not to roll his eyes. At least Ford was returning Stoney’s calls when he wasn’t in court. That was doing better than Andy.
“Daddy! I want to go see Grampa!”
He frowned down at Quartz, who was covered in food coloring and icing and cookie crumbs. Goodie. “He’ll be here Christmas Eve.”
“You promised he’d be here to sit with me during the grown-up party!”
“He has dialysis, and I told you he’d try. You can sit and play videogames for a couple of hours.” God knew Quartz tried to do that enough anyway.
“But!”
“Not now, buddy. I have a thousand dragons hunting my happy ass. You want to do me a favor?”
“Sure!”
“Go over there by the—” What was that fixin’ to be? Something from a Stephen King movie or some such, even if right now it was a pile of snow with about ten thousand sticks with flags. Right. “—the labyrinth, and pick about a zillion pinecones for the party. Someone wants to spray paint them with glitter.”
That lip began to stick out again. “Mr. Andy?”
Quartz was convinced Andy had run Ford off. Stoney didn’t encourage the view, but he hadn’t done much to help it either.
“Well, he’s gonna do it, but I’m the one asking, and you can have them after the party, if you want.”
“Okay!” Smile back, Quartz bounced off, and Stoney went to find Geoff, who looked a bit… tie-dyed.
“Cookies,” Geoff murmured. “Gay skiers.”
“Right. Remember, when the actual event happens, they want them again.”
“Yep.” Geoff gave him a hunted look. “That Andy guy….”
“I got it. I told him the menu is yours.”
Geoff grabbed him and hugged him hard, heedless of his relatively clean shirt. “Boss. Boss, I swear, if you weren’t my boss and taken and totally not my type, I’d kiss you.”
“Shut up, butthead. Go make food.”
“You got it.” Geoff paused. “What do you want for supper? Anything I have in stock.”
“Surprise me. Whatever there is extra that Quartz’ll eat. He’s in a state.”
“No meatloaf, then.” Geoff winked.
Stoney’s phone chimed, and he grabbed it, relieved to see Ford’s picture pop up.
“I’ll be in the office, man.” It was Ford’s office, sure, but he didn’t have one, and he needed a spot where he could talk and keep an eye out for Quartz. “Howdy.”
“Hey, baby. How’s it going?” Ford sounded so tired his words were slurring. Stoney knew better than to think Ford was drinking or anything.
“Been busier than a one-armed paper hanger. You?”
“Crazy. I didn’t expect this dispute to go to court, and now the judge wants to hear all the testimony from the three other families whose well was tampered with.”
“Damn. That sounds complicated.” And boring as fuck, honestly.
“It’s time-consuming.” Ford sighed heavily. “Two more days, at least.”
“You’re going to….” Wait. Wait, the party was day after tomorrow, and Ford was at least eight hours away. “You do remember the party is Friday evening, right?”
“I do. I—I don’t know, Stoney. I might not make it. Even if I’m done by noon, it’ll be winding down by the time I show.”
“But Ford….” No. No fucking way was Ford leaving him to deal with all these grand high muckety-mucks on his own.
“I’ll try, baby. If I could reschedule either one, I would. Ty will be there.”
“No, he won’t. He’s got dialysis Friday. There was some issue because of the holidays or some shit.” He tapped on the window to get Quartz’s attention because his son was wandering. “And Alanna just told me she was pregnant. Yay morning sickness, I guess.”
“So we’ll talk about putting Quartz in school. It might be good for him.”
“What?”
“What, what?” Ford chuckled. “He’s older now, baby. Maybe we can find somewhere private in Aspen that works for him, especially if we look for a program with lots of math and science.”
“I—” No. No, he was the dad. He’d make that decision. Him.
“I think he needs more social interaction. This may be the best thing for him, you know? Open his horizons. I don’t know. He’s smarter than either one of us, that’s for sure. He’ll blossom, if we give him all the tools he needs. Hell, I’ll do the looking into private schools, if you want.”
“What about the party, Ford? You set this whole thing up.” They had time to talk about Quartz, and he wasn’t gonna do it over the phone.
“I know.” Ford’s voice took on a note of real regret. “I hate that I might not make it, but I need you to step up. Geoff has the food, and I know Andy is a trial, but he’s a good planner.”
“He’s not you.” He tapped the window again, giving Quartz the thumbs up. Come on, son. Come in. “ He wants us to cut greenery and shit.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He was supposed to get that, and he has a budget. I’ll call him tonight if you want.” Ford sighed. “God, my head hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” What the fuck was he apologizing for? His phone beeped, the texts coming in waves. He glanced at them—Miranda screaming about the parking and begging for help with the computer, Sam needing to know where he was, Geoff wanting to know where to have Quartz put the pinecones that wasn’t in his kitchen, Tanner threatening to quit if Andy didn’t get out of the barns. Fuck a doodle doo. “You sure there’s no way you can make it in?”
“I’m going to try. Depends on the hearing and the weather. You got this, baby. Right?” Was that doubt creeping into Ford’s tone?
“Well, Geoff’s threatened to quit. Miranda’s threatened to quit. Tanner just threatened to quit. Alanna did give notice, and Sam’s waiting for me to hang a door.” He was golden.
“Okay. Yes, sir. Hold on.” He could tell Ford was talking to someone else for long moments. “Jesus Fuck. There was just a motion to extend to Monday. I swear to God. You’re gonna have to pinch hit for me, Stoney. I’m sorry, but I need you to do this.”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Christ. Could he do this? All these fancy-assed folks who were going to look at him and, what? He was a cowboy without any pedigree at all. He didn’t have a college education, he didn’t have any real money, and he sure as shit didn’t have the class that Ford brought to the table. He thought he’d be able to keep things working behind the scenes, smooth ruffled feathers and make the machine run like it was supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to schmooze.
“Now you’re mad.” Ford could run hot and cold faster than anyone Stoney had ever met. “Damn it, Stoney, you can do this, and I need you to grow a pair.”
“Hey. Hold up a second. You got no reason to be bitchy at me. I’ve been dealing with the mess you left me, trying to make this shit work. Don’t you be all pissy.”
Don’t you fucking accuse me of dropping the ball, you fucker.
“I’m drowning in legal bullshit, and all you have to do is throw a fucking party, baby. I can’t help but be frustrated.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your fucking party. Your idea. Do you have any idea how hard we’re getting slammed since the ad ran over Thanksgiving? People are booking for—”
“Jesus Christ! Look. I’ll tell Andy to deal with things, okay? You go feed horses or whatever, and we’ll let him do the thing that’s going to make or break this ranch.”
Stoney’s lip curled. He felt it, just pulling up in sheer disgust. Right. That was him. Feeding horses and living in the big house because he was raising Ty’s grandson. “I got this. You do whatever it is you do, and I’ll just muddle along as I do, right?”
“Fine. I’ll see you Tuesday. I’ll call Andy. Yes, sir, I’m on my way.” Ford hung up on him, just boom. Nothing else.
He stared at the phone for a second, considered setting Ford’s desk on fire for a heartbeat after that, but he settled on closing off the fancy side of the house and locking the door. Fuck Ford and the horse he rode in on.
Stoney headed out to hang the door, texting as he went.
Tanner: You quit and I will personally beat you to death. Ride out and cut greenery.
Geoff: Put them on the back porch.
Miranda: Restart the damn program and call Mike the gravel guy.
Then he called Sam. “I’m coming, man. Keep your damn pants on.”
He would do this party, and Ford could stick the leftover greenery up his ass when he was sleeping on the couch Tuesday night. Stoney was so over this whole fucking thing.