Page 12 of Long Time Coming

“What’s a big shot?” Beck sits back in the chair again as if he has no plans on leaving anytime soon.

I’m trying to figure out the best way to explain it, but Thomas doesn’t hesitate. “It means your dad does very important work. He’s worked hard and been rewarded for it.”

Success came fast. So did burnout. I could never work a day again, and I’d still be set for life. I have more money than I know what to do with, and that gives me a different outlook on how I should spend those hours.

My son matters.I plan to make up for the time I lost with Beck because of work to show him that life isn’t only a concrete jungle. I want to broaden his horizons so he can chase his happiness when money isn’t a concern.

I chuckle. “I don’t know if managing other people’s money is considered hard or important, but I appreciate the ego boost.”

The chair protests under his weight, but he keeps rocking. With his eyes on me, he says, “I heard you paid off your parents’ property?”

I glance at Beck. Money isn’t something I talk about much around him. He’s surrounded by it in the city. Keeping him grounded is something I strive for more. “I did. They paid most of it. I knew my mom was ready to retire from running the stables, so I thought I’d help get them there sooner.”

He stands and comes toward me, patting me on the arm when he passes. “That’s real nice, son.”

“Can I get you some lemonade, Dad?” Her voice is a welcome melody to the gathering out here.

Thomas stops and looks at her. There’s momentary silence, and then he says, “You look nice, Pris.”

Pris?Her eyes immediately find mine. I don’t even have to say anything because my lifted brows are already saying all that needs to be said.

Pointing her finger at me, she says, “Don’t say a word.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Wasn’t going to . . .yet. I was saving it for the ride over to my parents’ place.”

“Maybe I’ll take my truck after all.” She turns to go back inside.

“No. No. I’ll zip it. Not a word. I promise. Unless you give me permission.”

I’m gifted an eye roll with a grin she’s trying to suppress. “Dad, a plate of spaghetti from last night is in the fridge. Is that alright?”

“Stop fussing over me. I’m a grown man. You go on. You look too nice to waste it out on the ranch.”

Beck pops up from the chair and moves to Christine’s side. “You look nice.”

A tilt of her head in my direction gives me props when I’m left wondering when my six-year-old started stealing my lines.

Tapping his nose, she says, “Thank you, Beckett. Are you ready to go?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” She turns suddenly, pulling the screen door open again. “Hold on. I got your mom some flowers from the garden today. April has the prettiest blooms.”

When she returns, she has a bouquet of pink, orange, and yellow flowers wrapped in brown paper and tied with yellow string and a tote bag in the other hand. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good to see you, Mr. . . . Thomas.”

“Good to see you, too, kid. You’ve made us proud here in Peachtree Pass.”

I pat Beck’s back to encourage him in the right direction. “I appreciate it.”

He comes to the top step and calls, “When are you bringing my daughter home?”

“Dad?” Christine snaps, looking back over her shoulder. “It’s not a date. I’m going to see the Granges.”

“Well, whatever you kids are calling it. She’s an adult now, as she always reminds me, and can make her own decisions. So I won’t be inside in my La-Z-Boy watching TV all hours of the night to make sure she gets home alright.”

“He’s totally going to be waiting up for me.”

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