Page 4 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

Mom beamed. Trust her to read more into that comment than Maxwell had meant. “Let me put on a pot of tea, and you can tell me all about the classmates you spoke with.”

The calendar seemed to flip back by 15 years. But she was probably lonely living here by herself. Princess didn’t count. The least he could do was humor her in the few days he’d be her guest. “Sure. There’s not much to tell, though.”

He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the long island while she bustled around. “Have you ever considered moving to Montana?”

Mom pivoted on her heel to stare at him, dropping a teabag on the granite counter. “No. Never. Why would I?”

“Just wondered. With Tate and Stephanie and the boys settled there, I thought you might like to be near your grandsons.”

“Gilead is home.”

“What’s keeping you here? You work remotely, and Jewel Lake has great internet coverage since they invested in infrastructure a few years ago.”

She fluttered a hand. “My sister. My church. My friends. My volunteer work.”

“I think you’d love Montana if you gave it a chance.”

Mom swished boiling water inside the teapot and dumped it down the drain before refilling it and adding the teabags. “Why? Aren’t you planning on returning to Chicago when Walter’s project is complete, if it ever is? Because I’m certainly not moving there.” She always called her ex-father-in-law, who was also her employer, by his first name.

“Not sure. Montana is growing on me. I might go into construction there when Grandfather stops churning out ideas for me to build.”

She huffed. “That won’t be until he’s dead, and he shows little sign of slowing down for all he’s 82.”

Maxwell chomped back a comment about how Dad and his brother, Theodore, were convinced Grandfather was losing his marbles. Not a chance. The old man saw right through all their maneuvering.

“Anyway, there’s plenty going on around Jewel Lake and Missoula. I’m positive I could keep my crew busy if I decided to put down roots.”

Mom’s lips tightened. “And who knows about Bryce.”

Maxwell nodded. No point in going there with Mom. His middle brother shrugged off responsibility like water off a duck’s back, doing the bare minimum to keep on the Sullivan payroll. Someday, Bryce was sure to grow up, but he appeared to be resisting that moment for as long as possible.

She gave her head a shake. “So, who did you see at the icebreaker? What are the plans for the rest of the weekend?”

“I ran into Stuart Brandt and some of his buddies. I can’t believe he married Joanie, and they have four kids already.”

“He turned into such a fine young man.” Mom smiled. “The Bible college is lucky to have him in the Fine Arts department.”

“Uh, yeah. I suppose.” Maxwell might be miles ahead of his brother in meeting the challenges of adulthood, but Stuart Brandt left them both in the dust. Until tonight, Max had thought he was doing decently with his life. He employed half a dozen workers and paid them well. He’d done some traveling and lived the good life. But had he missed out?

He kind of knew he had. He’d been so focused on his business he hadn’t noticed Heather as more than a bright mind with an eye for design and numbers — a rare combination, in his experience — before she’d given her notice last spring and returned to her hometown to marry some guy she hadn’t even mentioned to Maxwell beforehand. Would he have had a chance with her if he’d been more proactive?

Maybe. But it likely didn’t matter. He’d only lost a couple of nights’ sleep on the what-ifs. And then life continued.

“Who else did you talk to?” Mom set a teacup in front of him.

“Eryn Ralston for a bit.”

“Poor girl.” Mom shook her head. “She’s had it rough.”

“I was shocked to hear of Amelia’s death. Did you know?”

“Oh, that was dreadful. Her car skidded on ice in the very same intersection where her mother died years ago.”

“You could have told me.”

Mom frowned at him. “I didn’t realize you knew them.”

“The Ralstons hosted all those sleigh rides and corn mazes back in the day. The twins were in my class.” Plus, he’d kind of had a thing for Amelia, not that a junior-high crush mattered 15 years later. Mostly, Maxwell had been focused on escaping Gilead at his first opportunity.

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