“I was what—ten?”
“And I don’t blame you. I blame William,” she said quietly. “If he’d backed me up, everyone would have fallen in line like always. But he didn’t back me up. He never did. It was his ranch, his town, his way or the highway. I couldn’t live like that forever.”
“But you’re back here now.” He couldn’t face what she’d said head on. He didn’t want to admit the part he’d played in her unhappiness, small as it was. He and his siblings did fall in line when his father laid down the law, and Liam had never thought about how it must have felt to his mother when everyone ganged up on her.
“Not for long.”
He supposed she had to get back to the twins. It was so strange to think of her raising two other kids he’d barely met.
“How old are they now?” He’d hardly spoken to Justin and Liz at the wedding.
“Seventeen.”
“Just about old enough to go out on their own.”
She turned toward him, and after a moment he met her gaze, feeling a flush creep up his throat. “In a few years, I mean,” he added uncomfortably.
“They’re no more to blame for any of this than you, your brother or sisters,” she pointed out.
“We had to make our way.”
“You had a ranch.”
“Which you want to sell.”
“I’m not trying to take anything from you.” Mary leaned forward to make her point. “You’re struggling to keep afloat, and I know a much easier, much more lucrative way to support all of us. A way we can be together. That spa in Hocking Hills will build a better life for everyone.”
Liam swallowed the words that threatened to pour out of him. He wanted nothing to do with a stupid spa. The thing Mary never seemed to understand was that when things got hard, you didn’t just toss everything to the wind and run away. You doubled down, solved your problems and fixed things.
“We’re not selling this ranch, and that’s final,” he said. “I’m not leaving this town, either, and that means I have to save it, which means keeping the dialysis unit open. That’s what I’m going to do. And you’re going to help me.”
Mary raised her eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you need a ranch to sell,” Liam said. “And you’re not selling ours. If we win the Ridley property, you can have it. Then you can open your spa in Ohio and leave us all the hell alone.”
“Do I even want to know what we’re doing here?” Tory demanded, standing firm as Enid tried to take her arm and lead her into the building.
“I have some questions about our case, that’s all.”
Tory didn’t buy it for a second. Something else was up. Enid had a glint in her eye. “The one you just said we didn’t need to pursue? Why do you need to drag me along?” She allowed Enid to lead her into a well-appointed reception lounge.
“Does Jonah have a minute?” Enid asked the receptionist.
“Let me check.” The woman got up and disappeared into a back room.
Tory eyed her mother. “Jonah,” she echoed. “How are you on a first-name basis with a lawyer in Chance Creek?”
“Jonah played football with your father in high school.”
“Really?”
“He was a bit of a troublemaker back then. Nice enough, popular, but sort of wandered through life, never taking anything seriously. For a while I wasn’t sure he’d even make it through high school, let alone pursue any secondary education. Then he discovered law, and it lit a fire in him. Shows you never can judge a person.”
“I guess not.” Tory thought of Steel, whip smart, cagey as hell, running close to the law—on the wrong side, as far as she could tell. What would happen if he ever figured out his calling?
A middle-aged man in a smart suit came out to greet them.
“Was wondering when you’d pay a visit,” he told Enid. “This must be your daughter.” He shook hands with Tory. “Firm grip but not overly so. That’s good—confident without being cocky.”
“Um, thanks.” She wasn’t sure what to do when he let go, so she shoved her hands in her pockets.
“Come in, come in.” Jonah ushered them into a modest office featuring shelves of law books, certificates on the walls and a neat stack of bulging file folders on one side of his desk.
The room was airy and light rather than dark and imposing, with a large window in one wall framing a view of the distant mountains. Jonah sat in a rustic wooden chair similar to the ones he offered Tory and Enid. Along with reference books and case files, the shelves held carved wooden horses, potted plants and pictures of him with his parents.
Tory relaxed. This was a welcoming space that suited a small-town lawyer.
“Might not be the fanciest place, but I wouldn’t trade it for any other.” Jonah had caught her looking around the room.
“Tory here is on track to becoming a lawyer herself,” Enid said.
“Is that right?” Jonah asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“Dale would have been very proud of you.”
Tory shifted in her seat. Somehow she doubted that. “You knew him well?”
“We were close as could be, me and him and William. That was a long time ago, though.”
“William?” Tory knew Dale and William had played football together but always imagined a bitter rivalry between them.
“And your mother,” Jonah added with a fond chuckle. “Always trying to be one of the guys, huh, Enid? Too bad we were all very aware you weren’t. I think your mother is responsible for most of the games we won back then,” he confided to Tory. “We were all trying so hard to impress her.”
“Don’t be silly.” Enid waved him off. “It’s the cheerleaders you were showing off for, not some moody tomboy.”
“All of us had crushes on you back then,” he reiterated. Jonah’s tone was light, but when Tory scanned the photos around the room again, she didn’t spot any wife or kids.
“Enough of that.” Enid straightened her blouse.
