A Father's Stake. Mary Wilson Anne
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work boots, Parrish pushed the door open and went in before her, setting her luggage inside to the left of the door. “All over, but right now I’m bunking down in the stables,” he said, turning toward her. “If you need anything, come on down and get me.”
“I thought you might be from the town or close by.”
“No, Ma’am, just lucky enough to get paying work for a while.”
“Mr. Vaughn hired you?”
He looked confused. “No, Ma’am, a property management company over in Santa Fe. I came out yesterday early to check things out and put new locks on the doors, although, from what I’ve heard, around here locks are pretty much optional.”
She liked hearing that. “It’s safe?”
“Like I said, from what I heard.” He turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at her. “I’m heading back to town to get the rest of my supplies. Anything you need me to get for you?”
She had the sandwich from Willie G.s’ till in the car, and she couldn’t even begin to think what she might need beyond that. She’d wait until tomorrow and go into town herself. “Not right now,” she said, “but thanks for asking.” Her last words were spoken to his back as he ambled off toward the stables.
Grace watched him slide back one of the doors and disappear inside. Right then, her cell phone rang in her pocket. She took it out, looked at the LCD screen and smiled. She hit the green button and put the phone to her ear as she walked back into the house. “Hello, Mom,” she said, excitement returning in a rush. “You won’t believe what’s here.”
* * *
JACK WAS UP late that night, his mind going over and over his unplanned meeting with Grace Evans. He had a feeling he’d only get one good chance to get her to agree to sell, and he didn’t want to blow it. But he needed information, and he hadn’t gotten the call with it yet.
He glanced at his bedside clock. Midnight. He reached for his cell phone and lay back in the big poster bed. After punching in a number, he stared up at the shadowy ceiling as he listened to the rings. On the fourth one, the Chief of Police answered. Jack knew John had the night shift, but he thought he’d be out driving around or sleeping in the back room. “Hey, John, it’s Jack.”
“Hey, bro, what can I do for you?”
“Did you get the information I asked for about Grace Evans?”
“I actually just got through running it. We had another demonstration out by the site of the new casino and I didn’t get back until a half hour ago. People are just crazy when they get in a group like that.”
Gage’s construction contract to build an entertainment center halfway between the main highway and town still had people upset, although they were gradually coming around. “What did you find out?” he asked, sitting up and moving to push back against the headboard.
“I’ve got it right here.” Jack heard rustling. “Okay, here goes. Grace Anne Michaels Evans is twenty-six, no college although she applied to an art school in the area, but didn’t finish the enrollment process. She got married to a Jerald Evans, had a daughter, Lilly Joy, six months after the marriage dissolved. Jerald Evans is now in Maine, remarried and some sort of big rig operator. Grace works at a diner in L.A., not a good place, and seems to have taken a temporary leave while she comes out here.
“She lives in a small rental apartment with her mother, Gabriella Michaels, and her daughter, and two weeks ago, her bank account went up to almost fifty thousand dollars thanks to one deposit. Most of it is still there.
“Never been arrested, has just a couple of traffic tickets, and, oh, I forgot, she was born in L.A., and seems to have stuck pretty close to that area most of her life.” He exhaled. “A real city girl, it looks like. Not one you’d think would be coming out here to set up camp.”
Fifty thousand dollars. Another gift from her father? A born and bred SoCal girl, and she was going to live out here.
“Hey, you still there?” John asked.
“Yeah, just thinking about what you said, about the city girl thing.” A germ of an idea was forming. “Why would she want the hard work of ranch life? No malls, no drive-thru on every corner.”
“Maybe she thinks it’ll be good for the child?”
“Yes, that could be what she’s thinking about.”
“So, what are you going to do now Michaels is out of the picture?”
“I figure Grace Evans might need a guide to show her around the land, so she can see how large it is, how much work and money it would take to keep it up, and maybe, if she’s offered enough to go back to L.A., she just might accept and leave.”
He heard John’s low chuckle over the line. “I’m thinking that your thinking might be spot on.”
“It’s all I’ve got right now,” he admitted.
“Okay, count me in if I can help.”
“Thanks,” he said and hung up.
He looked around the shadowy loft, thinking again how convenient it was to live above his law offices, then got up and crossed to the window. The town was “rolling up its streets” for the night, few people in sight, only the odd car making its way slowly down Main Street. In his opinion, there was no better place to grow up and live out your life than in Wolf Lake. He’d have to make sure he didn’t give voice to that opinion when he was around Grace Evans.
* * *
GRACE BARELY SLEPT. It was due, in part, to all the excitement after her long conversation with her mother, and in part, concern, since Parrish was sleeping in the stables. He seemed nice, but she’d locked the doors, anyway, just to be safe. After finally eating the turkey sandwich from Willie G’s, she’d soaked in the claw-foot tub, staying in the comforting water for so long, she almost fell asleep. But when she actually got to bed, she was wide awake. Her mind played and replayed the day’s events. The part with Jack Carson made her uncomfortable, so she thought instead of the first glimpse she’d had of the house. The fresh air. The clear skies and sprawling land.
By the time she felt the tug of sleep it was midnight, and she gave in to it willingly. Dreams wove in and out of her mind. So many memories. Her father, a giant in her three-year-old eyes, hugging her, rolling a ball back and forth with her, his smiles, and then he was gone. Her mother tired from working two jobs, yet having time for her, always.
The day an envelope had come with her name on it, then opening it to find it was just a flier from a kid’s store, not a letter from her father. Then high school, meeting Jerry, knowing almost from the first weeks of their marriage that she’d made a mistake, trying to make it work until he found out she was pregnant and walked out. Her first glimpse of Lilly as the nurse laid the baby in her arms, and the instant love she had felt.
So many things, both good and bad, mingling, then coming here, seeing the house, feeling that peace for a few seconds, that sense of home, and meeting Jack. Sadness touched the dream. He wanted the land. She knew that, but he couldn’t have it. She wanted it. She had to have it. He’d never realize how desperate she was. She would make a home here, a place Lilly could always come back to, always.
A noise sounded, a strange cry, and Grace woke instantly, bolting upright in the dark room. The iron bed creaked and groaned as she shifted to listen. Then she heard it again. A coyote howling. It made her shiver and she lay back down, pulling the covers up high to her chin. She stayed like that until dawn, then knew she wouldn’t sleep again. She got up, padded barefoot to the kitchen and looked through the rest of the cupboards.
Apparently Parrish had stocked some staples, even a small jar of instant coffee. She got out a mug, heated water in a saucepan and made herself a cup, then headed back to get dressed. Between sips of coffee, she dressed in khaki shorts, a loose blue shirt and her sandals, then headed for the front porch.
The air had