The Tick-Tock Between You and Me

by Kristy Tate

  “Probably both,” Cecelia said.

  “Do you think I made a mistake?”

  “Do you?” Cecelia picked up the loaded cookie sheet and placed it in the warm oven. The smell reminded him of his mom, and his world tipped for half a second.

  “Maybe,” he said. “What if this is hard on Grandpa? There’s a ton of commotion…new people. He’s not young.”

  “Oh, pooh,” Cecelia scoffed. “If he doesn’t like it, he can hide out in his room. As it is, he spends most of his afternoons napping. For all we know, he’ll sleep right through it.”

  “I didn’t mean to be thoughtless, but Darby’s right. This place has a lot of potential. Why not rent it out for weddings? We could fix up the bunkhouse and outbuildings and let them out as short term—or even long term—rentals.”

  Cecelia leaned her butt against the cupboard. “And you could lease out the pastures and fields to farmers.”

  “We need to do that,” Chad said. “It’s silly not to. We could also let people board their horses in the stables.”

  “It’s silly not to sell this place,” Bernie cut in.

  Chad twisted around to see his dad standing in the hall.

  Bernie crossed the room, pulled out a chair and sank on to it. “We need to talk about the future. And of the two of you.”

  Cecelia and Chad exchanged looks.

  “You both need to get your own homes,” Bernie said.

  “But Gramps can’t live alone,” Cecelia said.

  “Exactly.”

  “What are you saying, Dad?” Chad wasn’t opposed to getting his own place. He’d considered it often and had even gone out with a realtor a few times, but the thought of leaving his grandfather on his own kept him in the bunkhouse.

  “It’s time for Grandpa to move into an assisted living facility,” Bernie announced.

  “I’m pretty sure he would disagree,” Cecelia said.

  Bernie placed both of his hands on the table and spread out his fingers. “You, young lady, have spent the last three years in Paris. I don’t think you’re in a position to make a fair assessment.”

  “I’ve been here long enough to know that Grandpa is getting by just fine. As long as Chad and I—”

  “Ah!” Bernie pointed his finger at her. “That’s my point! You and Chad need to lead your own lives. You shouldn’t be required to be your grandfather’s caretakers.”

  “I can’t speak for Cecelia,” Chad said, “but I’m happy here.”

  “Of course, you are! You have free rent!”

  Cecelia narrowed her eyes at her dad. “Why is this a problem? Chad likes living here. I like it here. Gramps likes having us here. The only one unhappy with the situation is you.”

  “We need to sell this place,” Bernie insisted.

  “Why?” Chad asked. “Why not wait as long as we can?”

  “We’ve done that!”

  “But Darby—” Cecelia began.

  Bernie pushed to his feet. “Is this Darby here now?”

  “Dad.” Cecelia placed her hand on his arm, stopping him. “Her family is here. Her sister’s wedding is tomorrow. Whatever you need to say to her can wait.”

  Bernie took long, decisive steps toward his dad’s office, his shoulders set and his features firm. He looked like he meant business.

  #

  Darby stood frozen in the mudroom. She probably should have slipped out without listening to the conversation between Chad, Cecelia, and Bernie, but she was just so tired of her family. She didn’t think she could handle them—especially Sloane—for one more minute.

  Chad found her.

  “I probably shouldn’t have stayed to listen to that,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “No, it’s okay.” But his expression told her the conversation had pained him.

  “I’m sorry if this wedding has made the situation with your dad worse.”

  “I love that your family is here. It’s a great distraction. Do you know that a few minutes ago I found two teenagers sitting on the roof of the barn?”

  “Oh dear, I hope you told them to get down.”

  He shook his head. “Why would I? It seems like the perfect place to hide out.” He lifted his eyebrows and wrapped her in his arms. “Maybe you’d like to join me up there?”

  She leaned against him and breathed in his warm scent. “That sounds good. Really good.”

  “We could get away, just the two of us.” He pressed his lips against her temple.

  “Should we go now?”

  He shook his head again. “Right now, I want to meet your parents.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely. And your grandparents. I want to congratulate the folks responsible for bringing all these people into the world.” He pulled slightly away so he could look her in the eye. “Are you ready for me to meet your family?”

  “You really don’t know what you’re asking,” Darby said.

  For it wasted no time, and had but one desire —

  At the close of each week to be wound.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Mom, Grandma.” Darby held Chad’s hand and led him out to the patio where her mom and grandmother sat resting in the shade of the large maple tree. “This is Chad. His grandfather owns the ranch.”

  Mom’s gaze traveled from Darby to Chad to their clasped hands, and back to Darby’s face. “So, you’re the one we have to thank for this beautiful venue.”

  “I thought Darby was going to marry that boy from England,” Grandma Betty said.

  Mom elbowed her.

  “Well, what happened to him?” Grandma Betty demanded.

  “He was a mistake, Grandma,” Darby said.

  Meg and her kids rounded the hill. They were followed by the Rabid Rabbits, a flock of cousins and all the aunts and uncles.

  “The kids are hungry,” Meg announced. “It’s time.” She glanced at her watch.

  Mom stood and nodded. “Everyone, this is Chad. We need to thank him for letting us use this beautiful ranch.”

  “You own this place?” Uncle Harris asked.

  “No,” Chad said. “It’s my grandfather’s.”

  “He must be loaded,” Doug said.

  One of the Rabbits nudged him. “Maybe we can get a place like this after our tour.”

  “Where are we eating?” Uncle Harris asked.

  “Jumbo’s,” Meg said. “They’re expecting us in twenty minutes.”

  “It’ll take us that long to get into town,” Uncle Harris said. “This place is nice, but it ain’t convenient to anything.”

  Aunt Joanie tugged on his arm.

  “You’ll be joining us, won’t you?” Blaine’s dad, a small fine-featured man asked Chad. “I’m buying so…”

  “Um—” Chad started.

  “I don’t see how anyone can pass up a trip to Jumbo’s,” Mom said with a smile.

  “Well, if you’re sure I’m not intruding on family time,” Chad began. But then his face paled.

  Darby followed his gaze and watched two cars, a silver Mercedes and a red BMW convertible, pull down the drive.

  “You know what, you guys should go and have fun,” Chad said. “I need to stay here.”

  “Good thing you got a long driveway, boy,” Uncle Harris said.

  “Maybe if it wasn’t so long, fewer people would visit,” Chad muttered.

  Uncle Harris whistled as first Elaine climbed out of her Mercedes and then Jessica stepped out of her BMW. Jessica tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder and took off her sunglasses. The two women hugged, kissed, and linked arms as they headed for Chad. They looked like an army of two, ready for battle.

  “I swear I don’t know what they’re doing here,” Chad said in a low voice to Darby.

  “Your dad probably called Elaine, but what about Jessica?” Darby asked.

  He gripped her hand. “Stay with me.”

  Darby patted his arm and chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to let you face this alone.” She glanced at her milling f
amily as they climbed into their respective vehicles. “I have my own problems.”

  #

  Later that evening, Jessica stood in the doorway of Darby’s attic bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb with folded arms. “I can see what you’re doing here.”

  “That’s interesting,” Darby set down her journal and pen, “because I don’t have a clue what you’re doing here.”

  “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you’re in love with him.” Jessica wandered into the room and took a seat on the slipper chair. “At first, I wasn’t worried, because…” She waved at Darby as if the answer were blatantly obvious.

  Darby didn’t want to, but she gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. She was wearing the green avocado face mask Sloane had insisted would make her skin glow. Darby thought it made her look like a Martian.

  “Now I can see he’s attracted to you.” Jessica considered her nails. “But all men will have their flings,” she added with a shrug.

  “My dad didn’t.” Darby couldn’t imagine either of her grandpas or any of her uncles ‘flinging.’

  “No? Well, maybe he wouldn’t.” She made it sound as if this were a flaw rather than a virtue.

  “What do you mean by that?” Darby held up her hand. “No, stop. Let’s go back to my first question. What are you doing here?”

  Jessica stopped studying her nails and looked up with a sigh. “Elaine called me. I told her there was nothing to worry about. Chad will come around when he’s done with you.”

  Done with you. The words echoed through Darby. They made her sound like she was a tube of toothpaste to be used up and discarded when emptied. Used. The way that Benjamin had used her.

  “Darbs?” Sloane knocked on the door.

  Sloane and Jessica sized each other up.

  “Who’s this?” Jessica asked after a moment.

  “Sloane, meet Jessica. Jessica meet my sister, the bride-to-be.”

  Jessica stiffened. “I thought your family was staying at the Motor Motel in Oak Hollow.”

  “They are,” Sloane said. “But Chad said Darby and I could stay here. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Sweet.” Jessica stood and extended a hand. “I’m Chad’s girlfriend.”

  “Oh! But…oh!” Sloane looked as if someone had sprayed water on her face. But she recovered quickly. “Floyd is looking for you,” she said to Darby.

  “Who’s Floyd?” Jessica asked.

  “He’s the lead singer of my cousin’s band,” Sloane told her.

  “Why is he staying here?” Darby asked.

  “He refused to stay at the Motor Motel. He thinks he’s Mr. Hollywood now that he’s got that recording contract and a spot on Jimmy Fallon’s show.” Sloane rolled her eyes. “Floyd offered to pay a thousand dollars to stay in the bunkhouse.”

  “With Chad?” Darby asked.

  Sloane put on her bridezilla face. “All the Rabbits are paying a thousand dollars to stay in the bunkhouse, so I don’t know where Chad is.”

  “I’ll go find him,” Jessica said, standing.

  As soon as Jessica left, Sloane said, “You should be the one to find him.”

  “Chad said they broke up weeks ago.”

  Sloane came to sit on the bed beside Darby. “I know women just like her. They come into Millards everyday—by the busload. They’re like those grocery store cakes—pretty on the outside, but dry and stale on the inside. Chad is better off with you.”

  “He’s not with me. I’m not quite sure what we are…or if, after my disastrous thing with Benjamin, I’m even capable of making sounds decisions when it comes to men.”

  “What happened with Benjamin?”

  Darby shrugged, unwilling to admit how stupid and blind she’d been. “He just wasn’t who I thought he was…or maybe I wasn’t who I thought I was. Either way, I’m glad it’s over.”

  Sloane slipped under the covers and pulled the quilt up to her chin. “I could get used to this! I love how quiet it is here. Just think, if you married Chad, this could someday be all yours.”

  Darby climbed into bed with her sister. This was just like old times—how many nights had she and Sloane shared a bed? And now, for the rest of their lives, Sloane would share her bed and her heart with Blaine.

  “That won’t happen.” Darby adjusted her pillow and nestled into it. “As soon as Bernard senior dies, Bernie is going to sell Rancho de Rio.”

  “That’s sad, isn’t it? This place has been a home to their family for generations.”

  “Everything changes.” Images of children playing on the lawn, climbing the oak trees, and riding horses through the fields flashed into Darby’s mind. She shook them away—those children were earlier Georges—they had nothing to do with her. “Just think, by this time tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. Blaine David.”

  Sloane let out a happy sigh. “I can hardly believe it. Do you think we’ll be as happy as Mom and Dad are?”

  “Of course. Our family has a pretty good track record.”

  “I know! It’s remarkable, isn’t it? All those dozens of aunts and uncles and not one of them ever divorced.” Her tone became somber. “But they’re all from a different generation.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, you and Blaine will pledge your hearts and lives to each other for eternity.”

  “Eternity…It’s hard to imagine.”

  “Of course it is, now. But after a time, it will become impossible to imagine a life without him.”

  “I’m already there. He’s so…necessary. I can’t imagine a world he isn’t a part of.” Sloane yawned. “I hope you find someone like Blaine.” She paused for a moment. “Do you ever think about Troy?”

  “Sure,” Darby said. “I knew him almost as long as I’ve known Meg.”

  Sloane chuckled and it made the bed shake. “You were pretty little when they started dating. And how old were you when they married?”

  “Like seven,” Darby said. “I think I was in second grade. But she’d dated him forever. I can’t remember ever not knowing him.”

  “I miss him. I hope he’s happy.”

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t think Meg’s happy,” Sloane said.

  “But was she happy when they were together?”

  Sloane sighed and settled deeper into her pillows. “I’m not sure, but I think she’s pretty miserable without him. I just wonder if he feels the same.”

  Darby thought about her brother-in-law. She missed having him around. “We should go to sleep.”

  “I invited him to the wedding,” Sloane whispered.

  “You did?” Darby sat up, all thoughts of sleep gone. “Does Meg know?”

  Sloane rolled onto her side. “I don’t care.”

  Which meant no.

  “I love Meg, but I also love Troy. I shouldn’t have to choose.” Sloane punched her pillow before nestling into it. “Good night, love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Darby listened as Sloane’s breathing slid into a slow steady rhythm. She wanted to sleep, too, but every time she closed her eyes, the children she’d envisioned earlier returned. They had Chad’s golden hair and blue eyes. She told herself they were earlier versions of Chad and Cecelia, but then a third child appeared, and then a fourth.

  This so rattled her, she sat up and pressed her palms to the side of her head. Sloane shifted in her sleep and muttered something. Not wanting to disturb her sister but unable to sleep, Darby climbed from the bed, padded to the door, and silently slipped from the room.

  Unsure where to go or what to do, she went to the next room, the one where she and Chad had heard and found the clock and sat down on a box. Since Cecelia had started her online business, she had obviously tried to make some sense of the attic clutter. The boxes had been stacked into tidy rows. The cobwebs had been swept away, and it didn’t smell quite as musty. Also, the clock had stopped ticking…again. Had Cecelia sold it?

  The thought whipped her into a frenzy. She flipped on the light and started her search. As she scrounged throug
h the boxes, a voice in her head told her she was nuts. What would she do if she found the clock? It didn’t belong to her. Maybe she could buy it. How much would something like that cost? Would Cecelia sell it to her? No. The clock belonged to the family. Like the ranch. Of course, it made sense to sell the ranch. Darby knew that better than anyone. They should sell it if they didn’t want to care for it. Just like it would make sense to sell Darby the clock if no one in the family valued it. She would treasure it…but even if it didn’t work?

  A noise startled her. She whirled to find Chad standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall. He wore a pair of gray flannel pajama pants and a nubby sweater. His hair was mussed and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. The image of him tangled in the sheets hit her so hard her breath caught.

  He smirked. “What is on your face?”

  Darby’s fingers flew to her cheeks. She’d forgotten the mask. “Sloane said it will make my skin glow.”

  “Do you want to glow?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re looking for something.” He sauntered into the room.

  “The clock. I was thinking, wondering.” She swallowed. “I want to buy it.”

  He shook his head. “Too late.”

  “What?” Darby’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Did Cecelia already sell it?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you think she could get it back?”

  “No, not a chance.”

  “But we could try, right?”

  “You could try, but it won’t do you any good.”

  “Why not?” Darby imagined a hardcore clock collector—was there even such a person? Were there groups of clock collectors who congregated like birdwatchers or stamp enthusiasts and had special clock collector magazines or conventions?

  “I bought the clock.” He sat on a box and studied her. “Why is it so important to you?”

  “I’m not sure. I just want it.” She sat beside him. “If you ever decide to sell it, can I have first dibs?”

  “I’ll consider it,” he said, “but only if you kiss me.”

  She grinned. “Now?”

  He looked serious. “Now.”