“I think we need to celebrate,” Caroline says.
“I need to book a flight and a rental car.” I start working my way through a mental checklist of everything I’ll have to do to get to the middle of nowhere.
“You can land a private plane on the property,” Mason says. “It has a runway. That’s probably easiest.”
“I don’t have a private plane or any clue how to charter one for this kind of thing,” I tell him. I’m a simple girl from Colorado.
“Let me make a few phone calls. When do you want to be there? Before lunch?”
I nod. “That sounds great.” I turn to Caroline. “Can you ask Greer if she’d send me the PR plan she worked up with Fiona?”
“Of course.” Caroline taps away on her phone. “What’s your email address?”
“Send it to my personal address,” I tell her, rattling it off.
And with that, I feel a weight lifting.
After dinner, Mason informs me that a chartered jet will meet me in the morning at the private terminal at San Francisco International.
I alert Yolanda and Jim via text.
Jim: I’m so glad you found him. Now bring him home.
Me: My thoughts exactly.
Chapter 23
Tinsley
I slept like crap last night. I miss Landon, and I’m both excited and nervous to see him. Why did he leave? What has he been doing all this time? What will I do if he won’t come back? What will I do if he’s changed his mind about us? What will I do if he won’t help me?
When I left Mason and Caroline last night, they offered to come with me. I declined because I wanted to spend some time with Landon alone, but maybe that was a mistake. Maybe I need people who’ve known him longer than I have.
Simply put, it’s time to get Landon home and move forward. I can’t imagine what’s been going on with him, and I don’t know where all this leaves us. But even if he’s only going to be my business partner, we need him back.
I arrive at San Francisco International Airport’s private plane terminal shortly before eight, and the pilot introduces himself. “The flight will be a little over two and a half hours. We’ll be landing on a dirt field, so don’t blame me if it’s a little bumpy.” He smiles and winks.
“I understand.” I take my seat and buckle myself in. I’m too anxious to care about any food or anything.
The flight seems more like five hours than the two and a half I was promised, but we finally arrive. When the plane comes to a stop, I’m expecting Landon to be here to meet me, but he’s not. No one is here, and I’m not even sure how far away the house is or which direction I’m supposed to go.
I look back over my shoulder at the pilot. “Which way is the residence?”
He points in the direction the plane is facing, and I pick up my bag and begin the walk. My suitcase, plus my bag with my computer, seem like I’m pulling two hundred pounds. The ground is uneven, and I stumble as I walk. I could easily turn my ankle. I hear the plane take off behind me, and my heart races. Did Landon forget I was coming? Am I in the right place?
A pickup truck approaches. “Hey there, little lady. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Who are you here to see?”
“I told Landon Walsh I was coming. Is this his ranch?”
“Get in.”
I don’t see what choice I have, so I follow his instructions. The man is in his early fifties and doesn’t seem to have much to say. We drive in silence for a few minutes before we arrive at a beautiful estate tucked up against the mountains in a green valley. The house is enormous, with a giant wraparound porch.
As I get out, an older woman approaches, drying her hands on an apron tied at her waist. “Welcome. What brings you here?”
“I’m one of Landon Walsh’s business partners, and I’ve come to see him. Am I in the right place?”
She nods and eyes me speculatively. “You are. Did he know you were coming?”
“I texted him last night, and he said he’d be here. Has he gone?”
“Yes, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. He left early this morning, going toward town.”
“I see.”
“It looks like you were planning on staying a bit.” She eyes my suitcase and computer bag.
“Well, as long as it takes for him to come back with me.” I extend my hand. “I’m Tinsley Pratt.”
“Come on in. We’ll put your suitcase here.”
I notice they don’t introduce themselves.
“Can I get you some lunch?” the woman asks. “I was going to serve leftover fried chicken. But I can heat you some chili or beef stew, if you prefer.”
“Leftover fried chicken sounds wonderful, if you have enough for one more. Otherwise a can of soup or anything will do.”
“There are no cans of soup here, but I have plenty of chicken.”
Great. I’m trying to be low-maintenance, and I’ve insulted her. “Thank you.”
She shows me to a living room, and the view over the ranch land is different than I expect. Being from Colorado, which is high desert with rolling mountains and looks more brown than green, I’m shocked at the jagged mountains and green land as far as I can see.
I text Landon.
Me: I’m here at Magnolia Homestead.
I want to ask when he’ll be back or if he’s even coming back, but instead I leave it at that.
After a moment, my hostess calls me for lunch, and I find the table set in the dining room. Table for one. I enjoy my
