Grace

by Chris Keniston

  ***

  "I swear, Dallas won't be far enough away." Grace tossed her keys on Becky's kitchen counter.

  "They didn't mean anything by it." Becky hung the bagged wedding dress from the ceiling fan.

  Eyeing the dress on display in the center of the room, Grace shook her head. "You're going to hang it there?"

  "For now." Her childhood friend grinned. "And it's no big deal that Mrs. Berkner heard Chase and Andy talking about his getting to see more of the ranch one day, and that she told Polly and Polly told Sissy. That's the way things work around here."

  "And that's exactly what I mean. Some days I feel like this town knows more about my life than I do." Grace sucked in a deep breath. "Do you really think the town is betting on that dog making another match?"

  "I doubt it's the whole town." Becky's attempt at a reassuring smile failed miserably.

  "It had to be Burt Larson. That man has eyes on the back of his head."

  "Could have been Polly. She's been known to watch the neighbors with binoculars from the Cut and Curl."

  "Oh lord." Grace sank onto the sofa. "I seriously don't think Dallas is far enough away. I love the idea that I can get in my car if there's a crisis or blessing and be home in a few hours, but the older I get the more I think an airplane ride of only a few hours isn't such a bad thing."

  "You can't possibly mean that?"

  "Would it be so awful if I lived some place fun like New York or maybe Boston?"

  "I thought you don't like the cold?"

  "Okay, then San Francisco or LA."

  "Earthquakes and mudslides," Becky deadpanned.

  "And Texas is in Tornado Alley. No place is perfect."

  "I don't get it." Becky flopped on the chair across from her friend. "You love the horses and the ranch."

  "I do, but in moderation. A word that anyone over forty in this town is unfamiliar with."

  Shaking her head, Becky leaned heavily back. "It's always nice when you're home for more than a couple of days. I know I'm getting married, but once you start working and only get two weeks of vacation a year, I'm really going to miss you."

  "Dallas is only a few hours away."

  "Might as well be the moon. Or New York."

  Now would probably not be the best time to mention that New York wasn't nearly as farfetched or spontaneous as Grace had made it sound. She'd entertained the idea of a coastal move for months, and when the opportunity arose for a position with one of the country's largest law firms in the Big Apple, Grace hadn't hesitated to send in a resume. Maybe she should have sent a resume to the offices in Paris. She was pretty sure the French Riviera didn’t have cold weather, earthquakes, or tornadoes, and what were a few extra hours on a plane ride home?

  Chapter Eight

  Except for the long drive to the Farradays or any other ranch in the county, Chase could most likely have done without a car. He was also starting to understand why the vehicle of choice in this neck of the woods was either an oversized SUV or one of those ginormous pickups with four doors and enough room to transport an elephant. Or two.

  Driving back to the B&B, the diversity of architecture and obvious lack of city planning drew Chase's attention away from the road. Quaint craftsman homes sat beside a few mid-century curiosities and the occasional Victorian. One street in particular seemed to be more heavily lined with the ornate curly cues and tri-color painting of the century-old construction era. The short row of houses reminded him of the famed street in San Francisco used often in commercials and movies. The original ornate homes with the shiny modern city in the backdrop. Where he'd grown up a hundred-year-old house was common, but not so much from the Victorian era. He'd taken a liking to the B&B; owning something like it would be quite the contrast to his modern bachelor apartment in the city. But what the heck would he do rattling around a big old house all by himself?

  Maybe it was time to start thinking of a more permanent place to hang his proverbial hat. Staying at Meg and Adam's while he found his footing, or flopped, made sense, but for how long? When would he be sure Tuckers Bluff would be all he'd anticipated? He hadn't really given much thought to how this entire “buy a business and move west” scenario was supposed to play out in the long term, except of course that he would be loved and respected enough as one of the community to overlook his Yankee roots. So far it looked like he'd guessed well. There'd been none of the small-town aloofness he'd been warned of, the you-have-to-be-born-here-to-belong-here mentality. Quite the opposite. He felt so at home with these people he could almost forget he'd been born and raised in an entirely different world.

  Turning the corner, there was no missing the extra row of cars in front of the B&B. In the driveway, he looked at the vehicles and recognized several from the trek to the ranch yesterday. "Looks like company," he mumbled to himself. Much like the night before, as he reached the porch, voices and laughter grew louder.

  "Oh good, you're home." Meg smiled up at him. "Dinner's almost ready. Want some wine?"

  "Maybe later." He was so tired from disposing of more useless stock and unloading the new arrivals, if he had even one glass of wine now he might fall face first in his food. And there was always food. The place was a bed and breakfast, but most nights it was a breakfast and dinner establishment. And if there was cooking involved it could only mean Brooks and his wife were here for dinner. "Hi," he greeted the folks gathered around the huge island, but his eyes zoomed in on one person in particular. Grace. It wasn't good he was so pleased to see her.

  Different voices responded and the conversations that had halted at his arrival picked up again.

  "Your eyes are going to fall out of your head when you see her." Grace bit into a small stick of celery then waved the remaining stalk in her brother's face. "Your tongue will probably hit the floor too."

  DJ cast a glance at his fiancée and grinned knowingly. "She'll be a knock-out."

  "She already is," Adam tossed in.

  Becky rolled her eyes skyward. "Thanks, Adam, but she is right here. I may be a tad distracted, but that doesn't make me invisible. Oh." Becky waved her arm like a kid in a Catholic classroom who wanted the extra credit point. "Which reminds me, Mrs. Peabody came into the clinic today with another stray."

  "That woman is going to make ‘crazy old cat lady’ sound like a compliment one of these days."

  "Whatever." Becky rolled her eyes. "But she said that she can't catch the one that was hanging out with the one she brought in to be neutered. She's pretty sure the one who's being so cagey is about to be a mama."

  "All right," Adam sighed, "we'll take some of the capture cages out to her house and set them up. Maybe we can entice mama to come and nest."

  "And if she's looking for a new home," Chase raised a finger in Adam's direction, "I'll take her."

  "Here?" Meg looked startled.

  Chase chuckled. "No. For the store."

  Now several more faces stared back at him with startled expressions.

  "What did I say?"

  "Cat and store in the same sentence." Grace shook her head and took a few steps toward where he stood by the island and slid into the empty stool beside him. "Cats and feed stores don't mix."

  "Cats eat mice?"

  Her eyes opened wide for a second and then a smile bloomed. "They like to play with mice."

  "Play?"

  "Bat them around like a fussy toy and then come and drop the dead mouse on your doorstep as a prize."

  "Sounds like exactly what I need."

  "You've got mice," Adam said. Not a question.

  "From the looks of it, a whole village."

  "You don't want a cat," DJ offered from across the room.

  Chase didn't get it. If cats lowered the rodent population, why not a cat in his store? "Don't you guys have barn cats?"

  "Yes."

  "What am I missing?"

  Grace looked at her brothers and with the careful precision of a mother about to explain something very complex and potentially confusing
to a small child, placed her hand on his arm and locked gazes with him. "They pee."

  Becky giggled, but Meg and Toni looked as confused as he felt. Of course they pee. Every living being did at some point or other.

  When he remained silent, she patted his arm again. "On everything."

  And then the light bulb went off in his head and flashed on the stacks of hay bundles that customers bought to feed their animals, or pad stalls, or the bags and bags of different feed. Yeah, he got it. Just when he thought the learning curve was becoming manageable, somebody shifted the coordinates.

  ***

  If disappointment had a face, it would belong to Chase Prescott. Grace could almost see his mind mentally kicking himself for not making the connection on his own a lot sooner. "It's an easy thing to overlook if you're used to housecats and litter boxes."

  "As much as I hate the idea of using poison, I can't let them continue to infest the warehouse."

  "old man Thomas used to put out a treatment. Either he forgot to tell his son about it—"

  "Or he didn't really care," Chase finished for her.

  "That about sums it up." The whole town knew that the old man's love was with his precious horses. He'd long ago given up on running a decent feed store, but in the middle of God's country, folks tended not to be terribly picky.

  The phone in Chase's pocket hummed with vibration and Grace almost missed the wince when he read the caller ID. "Hi, Mom. I thought you and Aunt Cecilia weren't due back for a couple more weeks?" Covering the mouthpiece, he looked to Meg. "This will only be a minute. Can I set the table for you?"

  Meg handed him the silverware and he grabbed what he could with his free hand. Once again, Grace felt a little sorry for him. Juggling the phone with one hand and the silverware with the other left no way to transport the stack of dishes and pile of napkins. Meg mouthed 'I'll get them' and Grace reached out to tap his arm, then pointing at the plates asked with a lift of her brow if he wanted help.

  Nodding, Chase set the silverware in front of Grace and picked up the stack of dishes. The guy really was proving to be an outstanding country gentleman. Not that she couldn't have handled the dishes, but his taking on the heavier load was a sweet gesture. The guy was going to make someone a nice husband one day. Snatching up the silverware and napkins, she wondered if New York had any more like him wandering about.

  The volume on his cell phone was loud enough that without much effort, Grace could easily follow the conversation.

  "That's right, dear,” came a voice at the other end of the line. “We're docked in San Juan. Lovely weather. Thought I'd check in on you and see if you've gotten over that silly idea of yours."

  Chase set a dish in front of each chair on the one side of the table and glanced up at Grace, before circling around.

  Not wanting to eavesdrop, but still being curious, she took her time folding each napkin. Pretty, the way Miss Abernathy had taught them during the county's version of cotillion.

  "It's not a silly idea."

  "Then you're really going to move to some rural little town and play country boy?"

  His gaze darted to Grace and back as he laid down two more plates. "My plans haven't changed."

  "You sound just like your father. This is the age of cell phones and internet and self driving cars. Star Trek is here and the Jetsons are fast approaching. You'll never find Mayberry, Chase."

  Again, he looked up at Grace, but this time he reached over for the silverware she had yet to set out. "I think you might be surprised."

  "Oh, nonsense. You've been daydreaming with your father since you were five years old. Reality never lives up to the dream. That's a fact of life. It's why women never really find their Prince Charming."

  "Guess it's a good thing I'm not looking for Prince Charming."

  Biting back her own amusement, Grace could hear his mother harrumphing on the other end.

  "Oh very well. Go ahead and throw away your hard-earned money on some stupid farm with holes in the roof and no hot water. We'll see how long you last with those country bumpkins."

  This time, Grace saw unease not at the conversation with his mother, but at the jab directed at the folks in town. Technically, at her too, though she considered herself more a city girl these days.

  "I've got a," his gaze shifted to her once again, "dinner date. Have to run."

  "Very well, maybe she can talk some sense into you. No woman wants to live in small town USA. Trust your mother."

  "Yes, Mom."

  "Behave yourself. I love you."

  "Love you too." And with those three little words, he tapped the phone and slid it back into his pocket.

  "She doesn't know you've already bought the feed store?"

  He shook his head.

  Grace nodded. "So she has no idea you've been living here for the last few weeks?"

  "She and her sister left on back-to-back cruises the day before I came to talk with Mr. Thomas and signed the deal."

  For some reason she found that tidbit rather amusing, more specifically how so not amused his mother was going to be when she found out. "So what's the plan? Wait till she docks in homeport to bring her up to date?"

  "My mother hasn't been to my apartment in two years. There's a good chance she might not notice I'm gone for at least that long, so long as I answer her calls."

  "Ouch." Grace set the last napkin in place. "Sorry."

  "Don't be. That's not totally true. My mother has a lot of friends and her social life consists mostly of lunching with said friends and of course dinner as well, but she actually would notice I'd moved away much sooner than two years."

  "Two weeks?" Grace ventured.

  Chase smiled, a sweet lazy smile that made her want to smile back. "Maybe two months. Give or take a month."

  "So if this venture doesn't work out, you can return home and Mom will be none the wiser?" An unexpected pang kicked her center chest at the idea he might not be in Tuckers Bluff the next time she came home. Now she was the dreamer.

  "It's not going to wear off. I may not take over the grain and feed market, but it's pretty obvious the customer base isn't going to shop elsewhere, no matter how long my learning curve is."

  "So you like it?"

  "I do. I think it's time I buy my own place." He chuckled softly. "Don't look so surprised."

  Her shock must have been clearly painted on her face. "Sorry. Is your mom right? You want a farm now too?"

  Still smiling, Chase shook his head. "No. I never wanted a farm. My dad would talk about horses, or cattle, or even farming, but what he really wanted was to escape the rat race. My mother would tell him with his luck he'd think he was buying the Ponderosa and wind up dragging her to Green Acres."

  Grace understood the analogy of the rich ranchers in the TV show Bonanza and the city lawyer being shafted in another show of the era, Green Acres, but she wondered if his mother was merely practical or like the TV lawyer's wife, spoiled. "And your father hasn't done either?"

  His only response was a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. That little lost boy look was reeling her in. She knew she should mind her own business, perform her due diligence as maid of honor for Becky, then get the hell out of Dodge as fast as she could, but how much harm would it really do giving Mr. Suit a little tutoring in country life? "Is Andy going to work tomorrow?"

  "Yeah, things are slow for him at the moment."

  "Always a good thing for most people."

  Smiling again, he nodded. "I suppose it is."

  "Why don't you come out to the ranch? The guys saddle up and get moving before sunup to avoid the heat, but if you make it over after breakfast, I can show you a thing or two."

  His brows arched high over his eyes.

  "About ranching," she added, with a huff. Men.

  "That would be nice. Is nine good or too early?"

  "Nine is fine." And something inside told her if she wasn't careful, teaching this city slicker the ropes could prove to be way more than nice.
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  Chapter Nine

  Functioning on less than eight hours sleep was nothing new for Chase, but this morning was different. It wasn't poring over catalogues and internet databases well into the late night hours that had kept him from enough sleep. Thoughts of Grace and what she could teach him, things that had nothing to do with cattle, or horses, or fence mending, had him tossing and turning for hours. Somehow, a woman he'd known for only a few days had completely gotten under his skin. And it made no blinking sense.

  Canceling the visit had crossed his mind more than once. Each time he'd reached to call the house, he'd talked himself into going. Truth was, he wanted to go. He wanted to see what he was really made of. Could he stand toe to toe with men who were raised by hard work and made their living off the land? And could he handle a woman who most likely could do the same, if she wanted to? And wasn't that the whole point of his debate? Grace wanted nothing to do with the land, the small town, or any of the things he wanted more than a bigger bank account.

  The dashboard clock flashed five minutes to nine as he turned under the scrolling ironwork at the ranch entrance. Damn if this wasn't impressive. He'd been at some of the most exclusive addresses the city and state of New York had to offer and none had made him feel as unworthy as this massive display of man and nature living side by side.

  "Good morning." The heavy oak door flew open and Grace stood waving him in. "Did you have time to eat breakfast?"

  "More than I wanted. Toni filled me up on pancakes and eggs and bacon and some oatmeal."

  "It sticks to the ribs when you're working the fence."