Betty checked her watch as they got off the elevator. “I should get going,” she said in a voice just loud enough for Rosie to hear. “I’ll have one of my boys go check on your animals when I get home. Oh, and I called your Uncle Jeff. He’s on his way.”
On top of everything else that had happened today, Uncle Jeff was coming. She clenched her jaw. That’s what she deserved for ignoring all those phone calls. Her uncle had a way of taking over everything when he visited. He would probably perceive Grandpa’s accident as a signal that more changes needed to be made—specifically that he needed to sell the ranch.
She followed Grandpa to his hospital room, pressing her fingers to her temples as a tension headache tightened its grip.
After the staff got Grandpa in his bed and all hooked up to the heart monitor, he fell asleep. There wasn’t much for her to do but watch TV and wonder what happened between Destry and Tanner after she left the restaurant. Thus, the hours crept by, and she wished she had at least brought her laptop from school. Of course, with the headache she had brewing, she might not have gotten much work done anyway.
At about nine p.m., her uncle strode into the room in his pinstriped suit. He was a tall, dark, middle-aged man whose wife owned a successful chain of sandwich shops. Her mother’s theory was that since Uncle Jeff was always second-in-command at home, he had to be first-in-command everywhere else.
Grandpa was still asleep, and Rosie didn’t want to waste time talking. “Can you spell me for the night?” she asked. “I’ve got a monster headache.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve had to bear the brunt of all this. While I’m here, I’m going to take care of things, so you won’t have to worry anymore.” He sounded casual, but Rosie knew what it meant. He wanted Grandpa to sell the ranch. “There’s no use drawing things out any longer.”
Chapter 9
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.”
Tanner sat beside Rosie on the sofa. “I intended to do just that last night, but you were in the hospital. May I ask your permission now?”
Uncle Jeff shook his head and scowled. He walked out of the room, pulling out his phone as he left.
“I suppose it’s better late than never,” Grandpa said. “Go ahead. I’d like to hear what qualifies you to marry my favorite granddaughter.”
Tanner put his arm around Rosie. “I have a good job, and I love her.”
“So you love her.” Grandpa stared at Rosie. He’d always been able to read her expression so easily, like a weatherman reading the clouds. “That qualifies you to ask for her hand?”
“So I have your permission?” Tanner asked.
The old man closed his eyes and rubbed his bald spot. “I’m tuckered out. Can you push me to my room, Rosie?”
Tanner stood. “I can do it.”
“No,” Grandpa said. “I want Rosie to.”
She knew what it meant. He wanted to talk to her and only her. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She rose from the sofa, released the brake on the wheelchair, and turned it back toward the
hallway. The wheels caught on Grandma’s area rugs, but she pushed on, struggling to turn down the hallway. “Do you want some help?” Tanner asked.
She knew that was the last thing Grandpa wanted. “I’m fine.” She pushed Grandpa into his bedroom, a place that bore her grandma’s mark. Matching red Hawaiian flower prints adorned the curtains and bedspread.
“Close the door please,” Grandpa ordered.
She clicked the door shut, fully aware that Tanner would still be able to hear Grandpa’s voice. She opened a drawer in the bureau to pull out a pair of pajamas. “I know what you’re going to say,” she began but stopped when she saw tears in the old man’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “Do you love him?”
She laid his pajamas on the bed. “Grandpa, he’s my best friend. Haven’t you always said I should marry my best friend?” She walked to the little bathroom and opened the door.
“I asked if you love him.” His voice demanded a straight answer.
She entered the bathroom to collect his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet and place it beside the sink. “I love him as much as I’m capable of loving a man.”
Grandpa shook his head. “Love’s important. Sometimes it’s all you’ve got to survive on.”
She cocked her head and looked at him. Was this the wisdom of an old man or the ramblings of someone going senile? It was obvious from the pale tone of his skin that the day had been too much for him. What had her uncle been thinking to call in a real estate agent on the day after Grandpa broke two bones?
The old man fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “These darned button-holes are too tight.”
“I’ll help you.” She removed the sling and unbuttoned his shirt for him. The skin on his arms hung loose where muscles had once been. Carefully, she slipped his sore arm into the sleeve of his pajamas. It wasn’t hard for her to love this man, not after all he’d done for her. She kissed the top of his head. “You’re the one who taught me to love. You and Grandma.”
“Love is about more than taking care of someone or something,” Grandpa muttered. “It’s finding the one who makes you happy. Are you happy with him, Rosie?”
Chemistry Lessons Page 8