All within the same half hour. It was too much.
I turned away from the flash of his eyes now as I called him by his surname. Let that burn a bit. I wouldn’t leave here like a distraught girl this time, but if I had to be here suffering, he could go with a little stab.
No one appeared to notice the pause in his greeting as he continued, or else they were too polite to gawk at the tension between us. And that wasn’t likely in this crowd. The rumors of that fateful night’s melodrama had not escaped me. I had very much stayed to myself and the ranch in the past five years, purposely avoiding public gatherings and prolonged events like this one that loosened mouths and reminded people of old gossip.
Now, to be back here, in the same place where my life had so publicly disintegrated in front of everyone—it was all I could do not to shake my head at my own ridiculous predicament.
As he finished and the guests began to move and murmur among themselves about the new “modern dining,” I drew an easier breath. I could do this. I could be social, and civil, and nice.
“Miss Bancroft.”
Then again, this evening’s torture might never end.
Falling into step beside me was Benjamin Mason himself. So much for avoiding the gossip. I swallowed hard and kept my fingers intertwined, determined to ignore the foreign yet familiar pull of his body so close to my side. I had no business remembering that.
“I’m sure you have other guests to bother, Mr. Mason,” I managed, realizing that that crossed “nice” off my agenda.
“Possibly, but I’ve already achieved that,” he said nonchalantly, facing forward as we walked slowly. “They’ve had their dose of me.”
The rumble of his voice resonated to my very toes, sending goose bumps down my spine.
Stop that.
“How fortunate.”
He blew out an impatient breath, but I was saved by the approach of our long-time accountant, Mr. Green. I never cared hugely for the man, finding him a bit smug most of my life, but I smiled in his direction as if he were my closest friend.
“Josie,” he said, taking my hand in his and patting it. “Good to see you, my dear. May I help you with your plate?”
I blinked, taken aback. “My plate?”
Mr. Green chuckled, his bald head gleaming in the soft, flickering lantern light that glowed from every few feet. Benjamin had spared no expense for fuel.
“Our host has quite the progressive plan tonight,” he said, glancing up at Benjamin. “Kind of a walk and carry.”
“Progressive?” I said, not daring to look up to my left, where I could feel the gaze bearing down. “Is that what they’re calling moving cattle through the chutes to graze now? I think we’ve been doing that for some time.”
Mr. Green laughed heartily. “She has a point, Benjamin.”
“I’m fairly sure I can handle the inconvenience,” I said, taking the older man’s arm. “But I’ll be glad for the company.”
With that, the presence to my left stepped away, and I cursed my disappointment. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I have to fight the urge to turn in that direction and see where he went?
“I have another reason to want a few minutes of your time,” Mr. Green said, his voice lowered as we continued our slow progression toward the dining room.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly, thankful for the distraction. “Oh?”
“I know you’re aware of the year-end tax deadline,” he said.
My gratefulness dissipated, replaced with the despair that had become much more commonplace. Yes. I was aware. As I let my gaze sweep the room and take inventory of the obvious businessmen talking in clusters, I felt so painfully aware.
“Yes. I’m working on some ideas,” I said.
He darted a sideways glance my way. “Well, you’ll need to work faster,” he said, nodding toward those same clusters. “The bank has stated an extended holiday this year, closing next week between Christmas and New Year’s. Meaning—”
“No,” I breathed, knowing exactly what that meant. “They can’t. The holiday is—”
“I know,” he said, patting my hand again. “But they can choose to give their employees additional days off, and they are.”
I felt my scalp begin to sweat. It was already mostly impossible. Now it was swimming in the land of bleak and hopeless.
“So, I have less than—” My chest ached as my heart clenched inside it. “I have only days left.”
“Four,” he said. “You have until Christmas Eve.”
He clamped his hand down on mine as if that would calm me somehow. As if that would fix the horror that once more rained down on that horrible date.
My mother’s death.
Ben’s betrayal.
Now, I would lose everything my father created on that day as well.
My burning eyes moved over the room. I couldn’t afford to be proud anymore. I had to save my home. The jobs of my last few employees.
“I don’t like what you’re having to do, Josie,” he said as we approached the table and he handed me a plate. “It doesn’t set well with me.”
I scoffed. “Me either, but what choice do I have?”
“Have you considered asking your grandparents?” he asked. “They have the means.”
“To save the thing that took their daughter from them and tainted me?” I responded with a sad chuckle. “They’ve been waiting for years for this to happen. Especially since Daddy died.”
“Even for you?” he asked.
I met his gaze. “If they knew how shaky things were, they’d work even harder to get me there.”
Mr. Green rubbed at his jaw as he averted his eyes and appeared to be fascinated with the food spread.
“There is one other option,” he said.
“What?” I asked, stopping short and gripping the plate as he placed some kind of meat pastry on it. There
