“Tomorrow. First thing. I’ll clear it with the realtor, but I know it’ll be all right,” Carl said. “Meantime,” he added, “everyone’s going to be at the fireworks tonight. You want to watch them with me? Seems like a good way to celebrate. It’ll be dark.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll make sure no Turners or Coopers see us. I’d like the chance to hang out. I’ve missed our talks.”
She’d missed a hell of a lot more than that, but he was right; she’d missed their conversations, too. Carl had been one of the first men in her life to truly treat her like an equal. Her traditional father had expected her to take a background role in life. Her brother had seen her as a competitor. The more she’d gotten to know Carl, the more she’d appreciated the hours they’d spent together talking about nothing and everything. Carl was well read. Interested in learning new things. A true entrepreneur. He loved hearing about her family, made her teach him words in Spanish, laughed at her impersonations of everyone they knew.
Why had she thrown all that away?
“O-okay.” Camila smiled shakily, ignoring the little voice inside that urged caution. That said she might get hurt again. “I’d better get back, though,” she told him. “Before Fila and Maya get overwhelmed.”
“See you later.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let her go, although Camila had a feeling he wanted to do more. She sure did. But they were in a public place, and there were Turners and Coopers everywhere. As much as she ached to touch him, run her hands over those delicious biceps, go up on tiptoe to meet his kiss—she tore herself away from him and said goodbye.
As she walked back to the food booth, her heart beating hard, Camila realized things were about to change. Carl’s declaration that he was buying property in Chance Creek was a clear message: he wasn’t looking for a fling. He’d made it plain when he proposed to her three years ago he wanted to be married. To have a family. If she gave him another chance, she had to be ready for that possibility.
“What happened? What did he say?” Fila whispered when Camila rejoined her and Maya at the booth.
Camila checked to make sure Maya was busy. “Carl asked me to watch the fireworks with him. He really is buying a ranch,” she added. “He wants me to come and check it out tomorrow morning.”
“That sounds serious.”
“I know.”
Camila tied her apron back on and moved toward the grill. She could feel Fila watching her. “I want details—”
“Oh, man. Here comes Uncle Jed,” Maya called from the front. “Brace yourselves.”
“Later,” Camila promised Fila. “Not here.”
“Maya, I’ve been looking for you,” Jedediah Turner boomed from the far side of the counter, making Camila jump. Jed was one of the orneriest men she’d ever met, but he was her landlord, which meant she had to watch her manners around him.
“Hi, Uncle Jed,” Maya said cheerfully.
“Hi, Jedidiah,” Camila echoed. “How are you today?”
“I’ll be fine as soon as we’ve won the Founder’s Prize.” He must have once stood tall and square shouldered, but time had taken its toll. At eighty-five, he moved stiffly, but he was as proud as ever.
“Founder’s Prize?” Camila exchanged a look with her friends, but they were as mystified as she was.
“Didn’t you hear the big announcement? The winner will be chosen on Halloween. A lot of land riding on that contest. Land that should belong to us Turners.”
Camila just nodded. She wasn’t a Turner, but living at the Flying W seemed to make her an honorary member of the family, which she usually appreciated. The Turners were known for being upright, trustworthy members of society, and for the most part, they lived up to their reputation.
Until the Coopers got involved.
Then they seemed to lose their minds.
“What land?” Maya asked.
“The Ridley property.”
“The Ridley property?” Maya’s eyes grew wide, and she turned to Camila to explain. “That property forms the northern boundary of the Flying W and Thorn Hill. It’s on both sides of Pittance Creek. If we own it, we control the creek, right?” she asked Jed.
He nodded.
“Of course, the Coopers will want it, too. What do we have to do to get it?”
“Be the biggest contributors to civic society in town. Which we already are and always have been. It’s a slam dunk,” he said smugly.
Camila glanced at Maya. Was it? The Turners were good people, worked hard, went to church sometimes, participated in town events, but as far as making a contribution to civic society… didn’t that require something more?
Jed must have sensed her skepticism. “We built the high school,” he exclaimed.
“Back in 1953,” Maya returned. “What have we donated since then?”
“How many high schools does one family have to build?” Jed answered huffily.
“It might be a case of ‘What have you done for me lately,’” Fila put in.
Camila was grateful to her friend for saying so. Jed was better behaved toward outsiders than he was to Turners—real or honorary.
“Bah!” He waved a dismissive hand. “I served on the town council for forty years. I’ve done my bit. I’m a shoe-in for the prize.”
“If you say so,” Camila said slowly. She didn’t like any of this. It was a set up for trouble, pitting family against family for such a valuable prize. Everyone in town would want to take a stab at it, which was probably the point. The council would get an unproductive piece of land off their books and possibly get some free upgrades in exchange for it.
Jed turned on his heel and strode off, mumbling under his breath.
“Hi, ladies. How’s it going?” said Maya’s sister, Stella, slipping into the booth from the back. “Sure looks busy.” Twenty-seven years old, with dark curls and bright hazel eyes, she scanned the customers waiting for their turn.
“We’ve had a lineup for most of the day,” Camila confirmed.
“Uncle Jed’s on a
