Page 16 of A Mile of Ocean

“I took her breakfast on a tray because she won’t leave her room. It’s not like her, Trent.”

“Give her a day to grieve any way she wants. She was with him for sixty years, and now he’s gone. She’s not sure what to do or how to behave. Same with the rest of us.”

“Well, Barrett’s lawyer called. She’s headed this way to discuss Barrett’s will.”

“Kinsey’s coming here? Now? I thought that stuff waited for after the funeral.”

“That’s what I thought. But when I told the Duchess, she said you could manage whatever Kinsey wanted to talk about.”

“Great,” Trent muttered. “I’ll check on her and see if I can talk her into leaving her room long enough to read the will.”

“Good luck with that,” Dolly hollered back.

Trent wasn’t prepared for his grandmother to spend the morning in bed. He found her inconsolable, her grief raw, and unwilling to deal with the lawyer’s visit.

He found he couldn’t coax Tate out of her room, either, since she had trouble controlling her emotions.

When Kinsey Wyatt arrived with the will in hand to help with the funeral arrangements, Trent felt like the steady anchor holding everyone together. By the time he joined Kinsey in the study, he had offered his support to every employee on the ranch who needed it most, and it wasn’t even eight-thirty yet.

Kinsey confirmed there were no surprises in the will. His grandmother inherited Barrett’s estate, but Trent would remain responsible for the day-to-day operations of Rio Verde Ranch and oversee the main trust. He would stay on as CFO, chief financial officer. At the same time, Tate would continue her work as the founder of Painted Heart, a non-profit foundation set up to save various endangered horse breeds across the country, one of Barrett’s longtime pet projects.

“Tate told your grandfather two years ago that she wanted to continue his work when he updated his will,” Kinsey explained. “She’ll still be here to help with ranching, but in addition to those duties, Mr. Callum set up the foundation that makes it possible for her to save as many critically endangered breedsas possible as long as she’s committed to saving them from going extinct.”

This was no surprise to Trent. “It’s all she’s talked about. We’ve set aside fifty acres of grassland smack in the middle of the ranch for the mares to graze. I’m pretty sure she’d go to any lengths to save a horse, whether it’s on U.S. soil or not. She’d go to the Galapagos Islands, England, or Spain if necessary.”

“About that,” Kinsey began, “I’m afraid it falls to you to keep Tate focused on what the funds cover.”

Trent winced. “What you’re saying is that it’s up to me to rein in her enthusiasm when she wants to go to the Galapagos to save the Santa Cruz breed, but there’s no money in the budget for the trip? Am I correct?”

“You are. Your grandfather expressed his desire to save breeds here on American soil first. If she wants to expand that, you might suggest that she find a way to raise more money to cover expenses for foreign trips,” Kinsey proposed. “Fundraising events are certainly allowed. Your role and hers are spelled out in the foundation’s guidelines. I hope she understands its purpose and will meet your grandfather’s requirements. You will oversee her spending. He was quite specific in that regard. That’s why I needed everyone on the same page while discussing Barrett’s will.”

“I’m sorry. She and my grandmother are both taking a day off. I’m sure she’ll have questions later. Right now, she’s inconsolable. I just assumed that you would wait until after the funeral to read the will.”

Kinsey smiled. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not the best timing, but your grandfather requested I do this within twelve hours of his death. I’m trying to follow his instructions to the letter. You, of all people, know he was a no-nonsense type of guy. He made me promise that I’d follow every detail he set forth.”

“That sounds like him. I also know he was a veteran of Vietnam in its early days, a runup to 1964 deployment when they sent special forces there to train the South Vietnamese Army. Did he want a military service?”

“Not at all. Just the opposite. He wanted a church service and burial here on the estate. I believe he set aside a plot of land for a family gravesite on the property.” She flipped through several pages of paperwork. “It’s known as Turtle Ridge.”

“Turtle Ridge? Are you sure? That’s not the family plot. But it is the same spot where he was shot,” Trent realized. “He andDuchess go there a lot to watch the sunset.” And it just occurred to him that the shooter must’ve known that, too.

Kinsey noticed the change in him. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized that whoever killed him figured he’d be there at that specific time and waited around for him to show up.”

“Make sure you mention that to Brent,” Kinsey cautioned. “And be extra vigilant around here. I noticed the police cruiser parked across from the front gate. Brent must already believe there’s a chance the killer is closer than you think.”

“Interesting choice of words. When I met with everyone this morning, I made it clear to them that they needed to watch their backs. We have six full-time ranch hands who work multiple jobs, but they can’t be expected to fear for their lives every day.”

“A lean and mean machine,” Kinsey said with a nod. “That’s how Mr. Callum described his operation. Maybe you should think about hiring extra security. I believe Lucien Sutter and Brogan Cole keep a list of people they’d recommend for the job. Having rock star celebrities for parents, they both know something about hiring the best security details.”

“That’s an idea,” Trent decided, rubbing his hand across his chest. The pain was so fresh he felt as though the loss would never completely heal, which he supposed was the point of reading the journal. “Anything else to cover today? Are we finished finalizing the funeral details?”

“For now. I’m sure Mr. Callum went over all these things with his wife. But if anyone has any more questions down the road, don’t hesitate to call me.”

The rest ofthe weekend was a whirlwind of activity and emotion, leaving little time for Trent to process his own feelings. Between the endless stream of visitors and the never-ending tasks of running the ranch, he barely had a moment tohimself. He had spent Friday and Saturday nights reading his grandfather’s entries, a blend of grief and despair so deep he wasn’t sure how the Callums had survived the loss of their only son.

The journal read like a story unfolding, revealing layers of anguish and perseverance. As Trent turned each page, he felt as if he were peering into the soul of a man who had faced an unbearable loss yet found a way to continue. The words resonated deeply with him, echoing his own struggles and fears. Why his granddad had decided to keep this hidden for so many years was a mystery. Sharing it sooner might have allowed him and Tate to move past their own grief.

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