Libby picked at imaginary dust on her trousers, choosing to ignore her son and his irritating behavior.
A tap on the door interrupted their conversation.
“Sorry, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Miller is on the phone for you.”
“Thank you, Annette. Ask him to hold, would you?” Aaron inquired, his attention going back to Libby. “Think about it over the weekend, Libby, and get back to me on Monday. You need to move quickly to fulfill the terms of the will, and the sooner you start, the better.”
* * *
Nathan scowled at his cell phone as he disconnected the call. Aaron had been touting Libby Holland's attributes for the last few months, ever since Thaddius had contacted Nathan's uncle to search for the mysterious, missing relative he hadn't seen since she was a baby. He knew exactly what his uncle had in mind and why he was insisting this city dweller should at least attempt to run the farms. He's a meddlesome old woman. Nathan grumbled inwardly as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, frustrated with the whole thing. Aaron had been trying to set him up with a suitable wife ever since his fiancée had dumped him and run off three years ago when she found the going too tough in the country.
City folk didn't realize one couldn't just hop in the car and pop down to the local shops for everything needed. One either grew it themselves or did a big shop once a month for the basics. Apart from that, country people made do, not something this woman looked like she could deal with, judging by the meltdown she was having with her son over a visit to the office.
Aaron was constantly ringing him out of the blue and offering him the phone number of some young woman looking for work or a tree change who would love the country life. He knew Aaron always hoped it was someone Nathan would get on with and eventually marry. If he weren't pushing him to employ eligible females, he was telling him how much his mother worried about him not settling down and producing the next branch of the family tree.
Nathan wasn’t interested and had told both his mother and her brother that repeatedly, but to no avail. If a woman wasn't bred and raised in the country, he told them, they wouldn't be able to cope. He’d learned that the hard way and refused to go down that road again.
He threw his briefcase onto the front seat of his truck, jammed his seatbelt on and threaded his way into the busy traffic, hell-bent on getting away from the city as fast as he could. Now that he had put his offer in writing in for the farm and lodged it at the main courthouse—in hopes the frazzled yet attractive woman would renege and fail the conditions—he wanted to be out of the city as fast as he could.
The next few months or however long it took to talk her into going back to the city would be hard on him. The whole love trap was taking its toll. The constant prying and prodding from his well-meaning mother and uncle were making him snappy and nasty, a state he hated to be in, but he was having a hard time pulling himself out of his present foul mood. One more female is almost more than I can stand. He gunned the truck through the busy streets, his movements jerky—a result of the pent-up anger within him. Especially one that seems borderline mad-mother material.
* * *
Libby left the lawyer's office with the kids in tow. Her legs shook as she exited the lift, and she stopped in the foyer to get her breath back before walking out of the building. Mechanically, she went through the motions of dropping her children off at school and headed for work.
Her shift had already started, but Pete, her manager, was pretty lenient with her. “Everything all right, Lib?”
She dropped her bag in the office and tied on her bar apron. “Yeah, just fine. Sorry I'm late; got held up in traffic downtown.”
“Sure, no problem.” Pete let her get to work.
Libby loaded the trays of dirty glasses into the dishwasher and poured drinks for the lunchtime customers while her mind churned over the morning's visit. This was the life she knew, tending the bar and raising her kids the best way she could. What the lawyer was suggesting was a massive step she wasn't sure she wanted to take.
When she drove into her street after work that night, Josh was out on the footpath with a couple of his older mates. Libby had told him they were not welcome around the house since his stint in front of the judge for shoplifting. They yelled out to each other as she pulled into her drive and scattered before she could get out of the car. Josh stood on the path and glared at her.
“Josh, inside now,” she commanded as she stormed up the stairs to the door. She walked in, dropped her bag on the hall table, and yelled for Holly to come out of her room.
Libby flicked the switch on the kettle for a coffee and put the roast chicken she had grabbed on the way home in the oven on low to keep warm. Josh dragged the chair from the table across the floor before he slouched down on it, giving her the death look he was getting so good at.
“You can cut the tough guy act now, Josh. I am in no mood for this tonight. Holly, come on. We need to talk.”
“What's going on?” Josh’s voice was quiet, guarded.
Libby looked at him. Her gaze took in the scruffy jeans riding low on his hips with his boxers showing as was the
