Chapter One
Reece Rainbolt stepped into the Rebel, Oklahoma, law office of Edwin P. Sanders, Esquire. The scent of polished wood, new leather and fresh coffee stirred up memories of the last time he’d been in this particular office.
Sixteen years.
He’d just turned twenty-one, and his big brother Mitch had accompanied him to sign off on the paperwork that would grant him part ownership in Rebel Ranch. Fast forward sixteen years and Reece now managed his family’s prospering guest ranch on the outskirts of town. These days he did all his legal business in Tulsa—far from the small-town gossip mill.
He removed his cowboy hat and nodded to the smiling middle-aged receptionist. “Morning, ma’am. I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Sanders at nine.”
“Yes, Mr. Rainbolt. We’re waiting for the other party.”
“Other party?”
“Mr. Sanders will explain.” She nodded toward the expensive-looking leather chairs.
“I’ll stand, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “The letter I received was fairly vague. Have any idea why I’m here?”
“I do. And Mr. Sanders will discuss the details with you soon.” She offered a pleasant smile that revealed nothing. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you.” He paced back and forth a few times before he caught himself and stopped. Three hundred things on his to-do list at the ranch on a Monday morning, and here he was, all dressed up in a collared shirt and tie, waiting on a lawyer.
A moment later, the entrance door opened, and a woman took one step into the room. Her tote slipped to the polished oak floor with an echoing thud.
Reece reached for the leather bag, neatly scooping it up.
When he straightened, his gaze connected with the cool blue eyes of Claire Ballard. He did a double take as a roller coaster of emotions socked him in the gut.
Yep. Claire Ballard all right. There was no mistaking the proud tilt of her chin or the waves of chestnut hair that tumbled over her shoulders. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Time stood still as Reece offered Claire her bag. As if in slow motion, she accepted it and clutched the leather pouch to her chest.
She stared at him for a long moment, her face reflecting not only stunned surprise but something else he couldn’t identify. Annoyance? Concern? Whatever it was, it was no doubt something he deserved.
He hadn’t seen the woman in six years, and they hadn’t parted on good terms. In truth, everyone who’d crossed his path six years ago probably came away praying to never run into him again.
Before Reece had the opportunity to pick his jaw up from the ground, the door of the attorney’s office swung open and Edwin Sanders strode into the reception area. The silver-haired lawyer offered a benevolent smile as his gaze moved between Reece and Claire.
“Good to see you both,” Sanders said with his slow-as-syrup Okie drawl. “Have you two met?”
“Yes.” Claire said the word quickly without a glance in Reece’s direction.
Confused, Reece looked from Sanders to Claire. She was the other party they were waiting for? What was going on?
Sanders turned to the receptionist as he ushered them into his private office. “I don’t want to be disturbed.”
Reece waited to be seated until Claire had settled in a wingback office chair, her legs demurely crossed and her hands clutched in the lap of her pencil skirt. She looked good, and he did his best not to keep verifying that fact when he eased into the chair next to hers.
The attorney sat and adjusted his suit coat before he opened a thick file on his desk. “I’ve asked you here today because Davis Ballard has made provisions for both of you in his will.”
“My father’s will? Both of us?” Claire’s voice trembled and Reece blinked, his mind scrambling to be certain he’d heard the attorney correctly.
Sanders offered each of them a sheaf of papers. On the top was a topographical map of Ballard Farm that appeared to divide the property in two.
Ballard Farm consisted of one hundred and fifty acres of fruit and pecan trees and several greenhouses for fresh produce. Not only had Davis launched and managed the Rebel Farmers Market for as long as Reece could remember, but his farm also invited pick-your-own produce options to the public. A Rebel landmark, the orchard’s pumpkin patch was the highlight of the fall season.
Why would Reece be mentioned in his neighbor’s will? The question rolled through his mind as he assessed the papers in his hand.
“I don’t understand, Mr. Sanders. When did my father change his will?” Claire asked.
“If you’ll flip to the cover sheet beneath the map, you’ll see that the will was amended only two months ago. April sixteenth.”
Claire released a soft gasp. Her face paled and her lips became a taut line.
“Are you all right, Claire?” Reece asked.
“I’m fine.” The words were a rote utterance that belied Claire’s appearance as she stared past Sanders and out the window behind him. When she turned to Reece, he met her gaze and flinched at the raw pain in her blue eyes. Something about the attorney’s answer had shaken her to the core.
Sanders stood and left the room, returning with two bottles of water, each moist with condensation. He handed one to Claire and the other to Reece.
Claire held hers to her forehead before removing the cap and taking a deep swallow.
“Do you want to continue?” the attorney asked. “We could reschedule. You’ve only recently buried your father. I know this is a difficult time.”
“No. Please. Continue,” she said. “I’m just tired. I drove here from Tulsa after working a night shift at the hospital.”
Sanders nodded. “As you can see, Ballard Farm has been divided in half per your father’s request.”
“Are you telling me that Reece inherited half of the farm?” Claire sputtered.
“That is correct.”
What? Half the farm? He could honestly say he was as shocked as Claire was.
The ticking of the grandmother clock was the only sound in the room for a long moment as both Claire and Reece examined the map.
“According to this division, I have the family house on my side.” She paused to study the map even closer. “It appears that the orchards are split right down the middle. That can’t be right.”
“Technically, the peach trees are on your side and the apple trees and pecans are on Reece’s side,” the attorney said.
Though Reece listened to the exchange carefully, the entire conversation left him with the unshakable feeling that he was missing an important piece of information. Information that might make sense of this meeting. Ballard Farm sat directly to the east of Rebel Ranch. Davis had been his neighbor, and he’d considered the man a friend. Close enough of a friend to leave Reece half his property? Probably not.
Why then?
Claire turned to Reece, her face a stormy mask as she white-knuckled the paperwork. “Did you know about this?”
He raised his palms. “No, ma’am.”
His answer seemed to agitate her even more. Great. He hadn’t seen the woman in six years, and they’d parted on uneasy terms. Now here she was grieving and vulnerable and he’d managed to make things worse. All without even trying.
“I know this isn’t what you expected,” Sanders said to Claire. The words were gentle.
“No, it isn’t. I’d planned to sell the property.”
“Sell your inheritance?” The words shot out of Reece’s mouth before he could lasso them back. He couldn’t help his strong feelings about land and family. Selling Ballard Farm to strangers wasn’t right.
Claire stiffened and she pushed her long hair away from her face. “There’s nothing to prevent me from doing that. Am I correct, Mr. Sanders?”
“Yes. However, if you’ll check page fourteen, you will note that Reece has inherited the water and mineral rights to Ballard Farm.”
Reece cringed at the additional information.
“What?” Claire’s single word was laced with a hint of desperation as she shuffled through the papers. “I have the land, but no water?”
“That is also correct.”
“You’re telling me Reece inherited the other half of the orchard, the pond, the road, as well as the mineral and water rights?”
The attorney offered a solemn nod. “Your inheritance also includes the north barn, the utility building and the animals.” Sanders slipped his glasses back on and assessed the paperwork. “One henhouse, two burros, and Blue.” He frowned and looked up. “What’s a Blue?”
“A dog,” both Claire and Reece said at the same time.
Claire’s face flushed pink, and she turned away from him.
A tense silence followed.
“Why would my father do this?” She massaged her forehead with her fingers. “I’m his only child.”
“He was very specific about his wishes, Claire,” Sanders said.
“And if I contest the will?”
“There are no solid grounds for contesting. Your father was of sound mind and in relatively good health and was not unduly influenced in his decision to amend the will.”
“Relatively good health?” Claire’s eyes rounded in alarm as she skirted to the edge of her seat.
“Aside from his longstanding cardiac condition.”
She released a soft gasp. “What longstanding cardiac condition?”
“I may have overstepped here.” Sanders flinched and shifted his gaze back to the paperwork. “I assumed you had privilege to your father’s medical information since you’re a nurse.”
“He never said a thing.”
“Claire, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the authority to discuss that topic further. Perhaps his physician can give you more insight.”
The room was silent as Sanders sorted through the paperwork. Reece allowed himself a glance at Claire, regretting that their friendship had deteriorated. He didn’t have the right to take her hand and offer even a small gesture of comfort.
“If you’ll turn to page sixteen,” the attorney continued, “you will notice that your father provided a healthy trust fund for your daughter.”
Reece blinked and jerked back his head at the words. Claire had a child? His attention moved immediately to her left hand.
No ring. He knew better than to make snap judgments or assessments. However, that didn’t keep him from being confused. While Claire had proven successful at avoiding him for the last six years, the fact that Davis never mentioned a grandchild raised yet more questions. If Claire had a child, all the more reason the estate should go to her in its entirety.
“How is Zoe?” Edwin Sanders asked.
Claire’s affect softened and a smile lit her mouth. “She’s wonderful, sir.”
“What happens if I don’t want the inheritance?” Reece asked the question without preamble, causing Claire to turn and stare at him.
“If either of you declines the bequest, the entire inheritance reverts back to the estate, where it will be sold at auction. The proceeds will go to the City of Rebel.”
“You must be kidding,” Claire burst out.
“No, Claire, I’m very serious. You must accept the terms of the will as presented before you may entertain selling your share.”
“You’re saying Reece and I must claim our portion of Ballard Farm. Then we’re free to sell?”
“Correct.”
“That makes no sense. I can’t sell if Reece owns valuable assets that affect my half of the property.”
The attorney had no response to her legitimate assessment. But as Sanders reviewed the rest of the file, Reece remained silent. There wasn’t anything he could say that would fix this situation he seemed to be knee-deep in. He didn’t even understand all the dynamics going on today. What he needed was time alone with the attorney.
Another sixty minutes and half a dozen signatures later, the appointment was over. Sanders shook their hands and ushered them out of his office.
Reece held back, waiting for Claire to leave the building.
“You have a question, Mr. Rainbolt?”
“I sure do. Why did Davis leave me his land? We were neighborly, but that’s as far as our relationship extended.”
The attorney’s face gave away nothing as he pondered the question for a moment. “I asked Davis the same thing. He told me you’d figure it out.”
“Not exactly what I hoped to hear,” Reece muttered.
No answers and plenty of questions. That’s what the appointment had stirred up.
Hat in hand, he headed to the parking lot. Claire was only steps ahead of him, but her long legs moved like a filly being pursued. As if sensing his presence, she turned, opened her mouth and then shut it again. A phone began to ring, and she pulled a cell from her bag.
Reece hesitated. Should he wait? Clearly, he and Claire needed to talk, but he couldn’t very well stand in the parking lot and eavesdrop.
“Everything is in the suitcase. Yes. I’m sorry. I should have gotten it out before I left this morning, but I was running late.” Claire shook her head. “I’ll be at the farm shortly.” She paused. “Are you sure? I can skip my errands if you need me.”
A June breeze kicked up, ruffling her hair, and Reece once again tried not to stare. He’d known her all his life, but the majority of that time only in passing, because he and his siblings were from the south side of Rebel, and that made him not good enough for someone like Claire. Someone who lived in the big house at Ballard Farm.
Running into each other in Tulsa six years ago had been at a low point in both of their lives. It was collective grief that made them unlikely allies. He’d lost his little brother, Levi, at the same time that Claire was mourning the passing of the mother she’d only just reconnected with. Reece had walked away from his short-term relationship with Claire before she came to her senses and realized she was slumming. Yeah, he had made the first move before his heart had a chance to argue with his brain. Claire was a heartache in the making. No way would she settle for a broken rodeo cowboy with dreams bigger than his bank account.
Reece had been in a very bad place back then. It was Mitch who yanked him from the edge of self-destruction. Mitch, Rebel Ranch and God.
His head and his spirit might be in a better place now, but really, not much had changed. It didn’t matter what his bank account now boasted. He was still the kid from the wrong side of town with a questionable heritage, who never even went to college. When he looked at Claire Ballard, that hit home only too well.
Reece slowly walked to his truck. He’d find another time to talk to Claire—after all, she was right next door. At least for now.
For a moment, he sat in his vehicle and reviewed Davis Ballard’s will, trying to make sense of his sudden inheritance. Though absolutely nothing would be gained by the directive, there was no way around the fact that Ballard Farm had been split down the middle.
Both pieces of the farm fit together perfectly like a puzzle.
He could sell his share of the inheritance to Claire after the paperwork was finalized. Then she’d turn around and sell everything. Was Davis trying to prevent that? Or was something else behind the decision?
Reece’s gut said to slow down. Davis had a reason for leaving the property to both of them. No one goes out of their way to write a new will unless they have a good reason.
Before Reece made a single decision, he intended to find out exactly what that reason was.
I’m not a long-term kind of guy and I have zero interest in a future...with anyone.
The words offered by Reece Rainbolt six years ago mocked Claire as she was seated at a window table at Arrowhead Diner. She stared out the window, fighting the shame of the past.
What a fool she’d been—in love with a man who crushed her heart beneath his boot heel and walked away.
For the last six years, she’d assured herself that Reece wasn’t a concern. She’d dismissed him in the same manner that he had coldly dismissed her.
After two hours in the attorney’s office, she realized the error of her ways.
Reece was a huge threat.
She had been taken off guard by all of it—her father’s death, the will and Reece. Then in the middle of the meeting, she’d been knocked to her knees yet again.
It was the moment that Reece offered a smile and a half laugh at something Edwin Sanders had said. Reece’s mouth had turned up with a quirky grin and his deep blue eyes sparkled with humor.
Just like Zoe’s.
Reece looked exactly like his daughter. The daughter he didn’t know about.
“Ma’am? May I take your order?”
Claire looked up at the smiling face of a teenage server with a perky ponytail who placed a glass of water on the table.
“We have fresh peach muffins on the menu, served with peach jam made from Ballard Farm peaches.”
At the unexpected reference, Claire couldn’t hide a faint smile. Her father’s dream might not be hers, but she was proud of his hard work.
“Perhaps later,” she replied. “May I have a black coffee, please?” She hadn’t eaten since last night at the hospital, yet her appetite lagged.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Minutes later, a steaming mug of fresh coffee sat in front of her and Claire toyed with the handle as she continued to struggle to make sense of the morning. Around her, people enjoyed their meal as though all was well with the world. Just another day. But it wasn’t. Not for her.
Stress pressed in on all sides. Losing her father due to a medical condition he’d kept from her. Decisions to be made about the farm. And then there was her job. While she loved her new position as night-shift charge nurse of a medical-surgical unit, the added pressure and responsibility had only grown in the past six months.
She sighed and caught herself. It seemed all she did was sigh. A clear sign she was overwhelmed.
When the door of the diner swung open, it caught Claire’s eye. In walked the man who’d stolen her inheritance and held the power to take her future. Reece’s gaze spanned the room until he spotted her.
Throughout the hometown diner, women discreetly turned their heads to check him out, their gazes lingering. He seemed oblivious. His gaze was fixed on Claire.
There was a time she would have done anything to have Reece Rainbolt’s undivided attention.
Those days were long gone.
Claire gave him a covert assessment as he crossed the room, greeting a few people. Yes, he was handsome. Almost too handsome. Nothing about that had changed, nor had the fact that Reece was also tall and lean with a powerful build. She averted her eyes and reminded herself that he was the same arrogant cowboy who had walked away from her without a spare glance over those wide shoulders.
Reece was now well respected, an integral part of the community and ran a thriving guest ranch, or so her father said. She’d always changed the subject when he’d espoused the virtues of his entrepreneurial neighbor. Apparently, she should have been paying closer attention.
A moment later, Reece stood next to her booth.
“You followed me?” she asked without looking up. Instead, she took a sip of coffee, and she feigned interest in a water stain on the table as she willed her heart rate to slow down.
“No. I stopped to pick up supplies at the feed store and saw you through the window.”
Claire glanced around. “Did you want something?”
“Don’t you think we should talk?”
She released a tired sigh. Yes, they had to talk, whether she liked it or not. But not under the curious gazes of the Rebel gossip mill.
“Claire?” he pressed.
“Yes. We should talk. Just not here,” she murmured.
“I’ll stop by the farm tomorrow.”
“No.” Claire offered an adamant shake of her head. Not the farm. For nearly five years, she’d managed to keep Zoe safe from what she was certain would be Reece’s rejection. She didn’t have a contingency plan for what might happen now that she was tied to Ballard Farm.
“Do you want to come to Rebel Ranch?” he asked.
“Yes. That would be better. Thank you.”
He pulled out his phone and slid his finger across the screen. “Maybe I can move some things around.”
Move things around? Reece was a busy man. The only thing on her agenda was blessed sleep after a graveyard shift.
“How about nine a.m.?” he asked.
“That’s fine.”
Reece cleared his throat. “Listen, Claire. I’m really sorry for your loss. Your father was my friend. I regret that I was out of town for the service.”
Claire looked up to find dark blue eyes searching hers. The unexpected compassion in his voice and the concern in his gaze threw her off for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Tomorrow, then? Nine a.m.”
“Yes.”
He pulled out his wallet and slid a business card across the table. “My number. In case you have to cancel.”
“Thank you.”
Reece offered a nod before he turned away. Once again, all eyes were on the tall cowboy as he left the diner.
Claire sat back against her chair, shaken by the encounter. This was a new and improved Reece and she wasn’t sure why or if she should trust this version.
“Ma’am, do you need a refill?” the server asked.
“No, thank you. I’m good.” She lifted the mug and took a drink, then pulled a five-dollar bill from her purse.
Once she’d picked up a few things at the drugstore, Claire began a slow stroll through downtown Rebel. The Piggly Wiggly was still on Main Street. Someone had turned the old movie theater across from the Rebel Community Church into a Jazzercise and dance studio. There was even a brand-new community center and library.
Rebel was a pretty little town, mere miles from both Rebel Lake and Keystone Lake down the road. Idyllic and peaceful in the tourist off-season, flowers hung from giant pots on the street corners creating a picture-postcard of springtime ambiance. Rebel was even nicer than she remembered. She’d missed this little town and its whimsical shops and slow pace.
Whenever she visited her father, she’d made a point never to go into town, in an effort to avoid Reece. Like a ticking clock, she suspected time was running out on her options.
Claire kept walking, passing Eagle Donuts. At the corner, she spied a new bakery and crossed Second Street for a closer look. Daisy’s Pies & Baked Goods was spelled out in gold lettering against a navy-blue background. Huge pots of yellow daisies and white petunias flanked the entrance, and two wrought iron tables with chairs filled the space outside the store window. Very cute.
But it was the window display of pink cupcakes with spiraled mounds of frosting and multicolored sprinkles that caught Claire’s eye.
Zoe’s favorite color was pink. Unable to resist, she pulled open the glass door. Melodic chimes greeted her along with the smiling face of the woman behind the counter. Her strawberry blonde hair had been braided and hung over her shoulder and she wore a white canvas apron over a pale yellow T-shirt emblazoned with the shop’s name.
A cheery welcoming committee, Claire admitted.
“Hi, there. I’m Daisy Rainbolt.”
“Rainbolt?”
“Yes. I’m married to Mitch.” She cocked her head. “Are you new in town?”
“No. Back for a visit.”
“You look familiar. Have we met?”
“I don’t think so.” Claire assessed the woman in front of her. Yes, she did look familiar, as well. Perhaps at her father’s memorial service. That day last month seemed a complete blur. She’d been in shock and grieving. Her father was a young sixty-nine when he collapsed and died. Sudden cardiac death, his death certificate stated.
And it was only two weeks after she and Zoe had visited the farm. In fact, they’d planned to return again the next weekend, except she and her father had argued and she’d canceled her plans in favor of a short time-out.
Pain clawed at Claire’s chest and she pushed the thoughts away. Guilt wasn’t going to change things.
Instead, she inched closer to the glass case, concentrating on the cheerful sprinkles that covered the cupcakes.
“Two pink cupcakes, please.”
“Excellent choice.”
Claire straightened and glanced around the shop, which was painted in soft yellow shades. “So you’re married to Mitch. Is he still police chief?”
“No. He works at Rebel Ranch. With our large brood, we both needed flexible hours.”
“How many kids do you have?”
“Seven,” Daisy said. “It’s sort of a modified Yours, Mine and Ours situation.”
“That’s a nice-sized family.”
“It is.” Surprise danced in Daisy’s bright blue eyes. She cocked her head. “And you’re the first person who didn’t jaw-drop at that number.”
Claire chuckled. “I was an only child, so I highly respect big families and I’m a bit jealous. My little family consists of myself and a five-year-old.” She hesitated for a second, thinking. “Somehow I thought I’d have a houseful by now.”
The redhead leaned across the counter. “I can remember having the same thoughts. Then, two years ago, I went from being by myself in my lonely apartment to adopting my orphaned nieces and nephews, and getting married. We were recently blessed with twins. If that wasn’t enough, I now run my dream business. Never underestimate the power of a God who knows the desires of your heart.”
Claire stared wordlessly at Daisy. She wasn’t even sure what the desires of her heart were anymore.
The soft fussing of a baby filled the bakery and Claire looked around. “Did you hear a baby?”
“Yes. My twins are sleeping in the office. I have a baby monitor under the counter.”
“Oh, my. You are a busy lady. What will you do if they need you?
“Roscoe, my assistant, will be right back. He ran to the bank. I’m covering the front for him.”
“Can I help with anything?” Claire asked.
“You are so sweet. But no worries. If I have to, I can put a closed sign on the door.”
“Now I’m in awe of your multitasking skills,” Claire said.
“Don’t give me too much credit. Behind this counter, I’m like a duck peddling as fast as I can.” She paused. “You know, I didn’t catch your name.”
“My apologies,” Claire said. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Claire Ballard. My family farm is next to Rebel Ranch.”
“Ballard Farm.” A stricken expression crossed Daisy’s face and she clutched her hands together. “Oh, my. You’re Mr. Ballard’s daughter. I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t make it to the service because the twins had colds.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Claire said.
Daisy grabbed a sheet of bakery tissue and reached for the cupcakes, placing them carefully in a white box.
“So, you knew my father?” Claire asked.
“Oh, yes. Mr. Ballard always had a smile on his face when he delivered fresh fruit. Everyone in town liked him.”
Claire smiled at the words. Once again, she found comfort in the knowledge that her father and his produce had touched people in Rebel.
“Anything else?” Daisy slid the box across the counter.
“How about a peach pie?”
“Another favorite, if I do say so.” She grinned and leaned closer. “You and I have excellent taste. We should get together for coffee.”
“I’d like that,” Claire said, her mood lighter now than it had been all morning.
Daisy’s grin seemed contagious and Claire couldn’t help smiling back. She’d like to be friends with this woman. That is, if she were staying in Rebel. An unexpected prick of regret stung Claire. Except she wasn’t.
Twenty minutes later, Claire pulled into the private family drive to Ballard Farm. Zoe spotted her, jumped down from the porch and raced across the expansive emerald lawn, ducking beneath the branch of a maple tree, with her long dark braids flying. Claire’s heart swelled at the sight.
Nan Turner, the wife of Ballard Farm’s crop production manager, Asa Turner, sat on the front porch, watching. What would she do without Nan? When Claire’s mother left, Nan had stepped in whenever she could to do all the things that her father couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Ever devoted to the land, he had buried himself in work, leaving Claire alone most of the time.
It was only six years ago that Claire was able to track down her mother who was in hospice. That was when she finally uncovered the truth about her childhood. Marta Ballard had an addiction. Her father used that as leverage to gain complete custody. Claire didn’t know who she was angrier with, her father or her mother. They’d both denied her a childhood with their tumultuous marriage and abandonment of their daughter. Her mother to her addiction and her father to the orchards.
It took the birth of Zoe for Claire to make peace with her life. Zoe and the Lord turned things around. She found solace in her newfound faith as she worked to release the bitterness of the past.
“Mommy! You’re back.” Five-year-old Zoe leaped into Claire’s arms the moment she stepped out of the car. Claire swung her around and then set her on the ground with a kiss to her forehead.
She grabbed the box from the car and turned around. “I brought you a treat, sweetie.”
When Zoe’s dark blue eyes lit up, Claire was again struck with the disconcerting awareness of how much they were like Reece’s. An unusual shade of deep blue. She nearly dropped the box as she stared at her daughter. How had she never noticed?
Because she didn’t have a single picture of Reece and in six years her memory had faded.
“Pink cupcakes?” Zoe grinned. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Bring them in the house for me, please?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Claire collected a few small bags from the car and started up the drive as Nan walked down to meet her.
Nan seemed to never age. Her dark hair, highlighted with sparse streaks of gray, was cut in a bob that touched her chin. As usual, she wore jeans and a blouse paired with black rubber muck boots. A wide-brimmed straw hat hung down her back from laces tied around her neck.
The older woman smiled when Claire held out another pastry box. “Oh, what’s this?”
“A pie for you and Asa,” Claire said. “Peach. No doubt made with Ballard peaches.”
“Thank you.” Nan smiled. “So you went into Daisy’s bakery?”
“I couldn’t resist.”
“Pies are her specialty. Try as I might, I haven’t been able to master her way with pastry. That woman is gifted.”
“Well, then save me a piece.” Claire shifted the bags in her hands.
“How did it go?” the older woman asked.
“Daisy is lovely. We’re going to have coffee soon.”
“No. I meant the will.”
“Oh, that.” Claire frowned as a shadow fell over her thoughts. “Did you know my father had a cardiac condition?”
“I knew he was seeing a doctor in Tulsa. But he never really discussed any of his health issues with me or Asa.”
“Is Asa around?”
Nan turned toward the orchards. “He’s out in the field somewhere. They’re spraying the pecans today.”
Following Nan up the drive, Claire glanced around at the activity she spied in the distance. Workers moved in and out of the orchards and greenhouses. Past the barn, a tractor lumbered down the dirt road toward the fields.
What was she going to do with a farm? And half of one at that. Growing up, she’d done her best to pretend she lived anywhere but on a farm, even when she was plunked down in the middle of it, picking fruit. There was no way to ignore the truth now. “Things look busy,” Claire said.
“Disease and insect control for the pecans. We’ll be getting ready for the fruit self-picking season to start very soon. We’ve also got produce ready in the greenhouse. The first farmers market starts Saturday.”
We. Nan and Asa managed the place along with a dozen seasonal employees. We definitely did not include her.
Nan stopped at the pathway to the front porch. “You own the place now, Claire. What are your plans? Will you be hands-on like your daddy?”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t know how to run the farm.”
“You lived in those orchards. You know more than you think you do.”
“I have a career, a life in Tulsa.” She took a deep breath and searched for a way to explain the turn of events that had happened in Edwin Sanders’s office. “Nan, there is a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Yes. My father’s will.” She hesitated for a moment and then barreled forward. “The farm was split down the middle with half going to Reece Rainbolt.”
Claire shook her head. Things were much more complicated than that, but she didn’t have the courage to admit to Nan or Asa that she wanted to sell Ballard Farm. The last thing she wanted was to hurt them.
“Reece Rainbolt?”
“Odd, isn’t it?” Claire asked.
Nan’s brows knit together, and she seemed to hesitate as if choosing her words with care. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but now that he’s settled down, Reece is doing an amazing job with Rebel Ranch. He’s brought in more tourists with that ranch than anyone would have figured. And tourists are good for everyone’s business.” She paused, thinking. “Still...”
“Why would my father leave half the farm to Reece?” Claire nodded. “Yes. That’s the million-dollar question.”
Nan was silent.
“Were they close? My father and Reece?” Claire couldn’t imagine that. She came home a few weekends a month and had seen no evidence of that sort of relationship. Still, her father’s pattern was to keep everything locked inside. All her life he’d been closemouthed with a tight rein on his thoughts and emotions.
“As close as your daddy was with any of his neighbors,” Nan replied.
“Why Reece?”
Nan opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“What?” Claire asked.
“Sit down, honey.” Nan pointed to one of the crisp white Adirondack chairs on the porch.
“Uh-oh.” Claire obeyed the ominous words, climbing the steps and easing onto a cushioned seat.
“There was a time, about six years ago, after you tracked down your mother and she passed. You and your father were on shaky ground...” Nan paused. “You hadn’t visited in nearly a year.” She cleared her throat.
“Go on.”
“I went into Tulsa to be with my sister for her hip surgery. Your daddy asked me to check on you.”
Claire cocked her head and looked into Nan’s clear hazel eyes. “I don’t remember that we connected.”
“We didn’t. But I did see you.”
“You did?”
“Yes, you and Reece. You two were coming out of your apartment building and you looked...well, happy.”
Heat raced up Claire’s neck and burned her face. “Why didn’t you say something, right then?”
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
“And my father?”
“I mentioned it to Davis and he told me not to say anything. He was glad you were all right and that you found someone. I think he was relieved it was someone from Rebel.”
Claire nearly choked on the irony. Found someone? Yes, someone from Rebel who broke her heart. Though, she’d never ever admit that.
“If he knew about Reece...” Claire paused and asked the awkward question “...why didn’t he ever say something?”
Nan grimaced. “You know your daddy wasn’t big on talk. And I think he was afraid he’d lose you again if he interfered.”
Silence stretched between them. Claire fought off the demons of shame. She’d made some serious mistakes in the past. But that’s exactly what it was. The past. She had committed her life to the Lord since then.
“You’re going to have to tell him, you know.” Nan said the words softly. She reached across from her seat to touch Claire’s hand.
“Who?” Claire asked. Her thoughts still faraway.
“Reece. He needs to know he’s Zoe’s daddy.”
Claire gasped and swallowed hard. “How do you know that Reece is...?”
“Honey, anyone with half an eyeball can see that little girl is the spittin’ image of Reece.”
“My father?”
“Farmers are notorious for knowing how to do the math.”
In a rush, thoughts began to tumble into order in her mind. The last time she saw her father. He kept pushing her about Zoe’s birth father. He’d stood by her without condemnation when she’d come home to Ballard and told him she was pregnant. And in all this time, he’d never pressed her for information. Until that last weekend.
It was as though he knew his days were numbered and he was getting his life in order and trying to fix hers. April 16, he had changed his will. Mere days after they’d argued.
If only they’d talked it out. Instead, the Ballards did what they do best. They went to their own corners and became silent and stubborn.
“Are you okay, Claire?”
Claire turned to Nan, terrified of what she’d see in the older woman’s eyes. “Nan, Reece didn’t want to know anything six years ago.”
Nan smiled gently. “He’s changed. So have you.”
Fear began to stake a choke hold on her heart. Claire bit back emotion. “What if he decides Zoe needs to stay in Rebel?” She swallowed past the thickness clogging her throat. “What if he wants to take her away from me?”
“Now you’re overreacting and getting yourself all worked up for no good reason.”
“What about the fact that Reece owns half of this farm? What am I going to do about that?” Claire stood and paced back and forth. Reece wasn’t a dirt-poor cowboy anymore. No, he was a prosperous and respected businessman.
“There’s nothing to do about it right now,” Nan said. “Just take it one step at a time, and try to remember that with a little prayer, things always have a way of working out.”
Though Claire admired Nan’s assurance, she admittedly felt anything but confident. At this moment, she didn’t see any possible way for God to fix the mess she was in.
Claire made another pass across the porch and stopped when the screen door creaked open.
“Mommy, may I have a cupcake now?” Zoe called from the doorway.
“Sure, sweetie. Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
“Are you off tomorrow?” Nan asked when Zoe disappeared.
“Yes. I had plenty of personal days accumulated, so I took two weeks.”
“Good, because you look like you need a vacation.”
“Do I?” Claire turned to examine her reflection in the tall windows of the porch. She pushed her hair back from her face. All she saw was the usual—dark shadows that reflected too many night shifts and too little sleep.
“You’re wound tight as can be,” Nan said. “And your eyes are filled with worry.”
Claire didn’t respond. Nan was right. Maybe a little rest and relaxation were in order.
Nan stood. “Two weeks is plenty of time to figure things out.”
Plenty of time? Claire moved to the door and held the screen for Nan.
But was it enough time to persuade Reece to buy her out and make him understand why she’d never told him he had a daughter?
Copyright © 2020 by Tina M. Radcliffe