Page 7 of Baker
“Obviously. Thanks. Oh, your email? For my publisher?”
“Oh right, yeah.” He passed me his phone, a beat-to-hell Android, opened to notes. I gave him my email, my cell, and the ranch landline since cell service ran from decent to spotty to hell nah out here, depending on which way your horse went. “If youcan’t reach me on my phone, call the house. Granny is always here and loves to take messages. Fair warning, though. If you ring and she picks up, be ready for at least a half-hour catch-up call.”
He chuckled warmly while slipping his phone into his back pocket. “I’ll make sure I have a cup of coffee close at hand.”
“Good. Just so you know, she is not the person to ring if you’ve just been nailed by a rattler.”
He gave me a smile that lit up his eyes. Then he offered me his hand. I slapped mine into his. His grip was strong, but he had pretty soft skin. We held hands for just a microsecond longer than was customary. A masculine laugh from inside slipped into the intimate moment.
“I’ll let you get back to your family. Sorry to interrupt such a sad day.” He pulled his fingers from mine.
“Told you it wasn’t all that sad, but thanks for the kindness.”
His expression was curious, but he merely nodded and then turned on his heel, headed to the stable. I watched him go, long legs carrying him with ease to the horse barn before he melted into the darkening night and was gone. The rattle of the overhead door on the stable opening and closing reached me. I drew in a long breath, turned, and with shoulders set, made my way back to the kitchen. All eyes rose to me as I walked in.
“I was just telling your brothers they didn’t need to go back into town for beds. We have three bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. There’s plenty of room,” Granny was saying as she placed a carrot cake on the table.
“Oh.” I gave them all a fast glance. “Well, sure, that’s fine.” It really wasn’t but tossing them out would piss off my grandmother. Sweet as she was, you didnotwant to be the bee that got in her bonnet. “Maybe we can get some more coffee ready and have a sit down. I’d like to talk to you all, and there’s no better time than the present.”
Granny was not happy. She knew my plans. Of course she did. I had sold off what remained of our beefers to gather a decent amount of cash to wave under their noses.
“Coffee and carrot cake sounds lovely,” Bella said as she rose. “I’ll just get that going. I brew a good pot, ask Ford.” My half-brother nodded. Granny sat down with a sigh. She and I had gone round and round about my plans. Bella hurried over to the pot, giving us her slim back as she filled the old Black & Decker drip machine.
I dropped down into the seat Bella had vacated, leaned my arms on the table, and tapped the raised edge of the cake plate. It was one of Granny’s best, a green glass plate that had belonged to a great-aunt. Usually only brought out for the big holidays, church bake sales, and the Bastian Acres County Fair baking contest each August. She was doing her best to make a good impression, even though I had begged her not to as these boys were not staying.
“Okay, so as I suspected, Dad left us all equal shares,” I began as I ran a finger over the scalloped edge of the cake plate. “Since none of you are farmers, what I have arranged is to offer you each ten thousand dollars to buy your share of the ranch from you.” I looked up to see that myhalf-brothers were all gawking at each other before looking back at me. “I know it’s not much, and if you all want more, then…well, once I get things back on track, I could send you more. It might take a while for me to get that kind of cash again, but if I sold off a few more acres to—”
A cellphone rang. We all glanced at Dodge. “Sorry, I…I have to take this. Give me five.” He pushed to his feet then disappeared into the mudroom, pulling the door mostly closed behind him. The others at the table were staring at me in varying degrees of upset, confusion, and worry.
Granny began cutting into the cake as Dodge’s voice slid through the cracked door. “Chris, no, I just…can’t you justhandle it this time? You knew I’d be in Oklahoma for the funeral. Why the hell did you schedule a signing when you knew he had twirling practice?”
I shot my grandmother a look. She pursed her lips as she placed a fat slice of dark orange cake on a small dish for Ford. He nodded silently in thanks.
“No, I can’t just come home tonight. Chris, Jesus, just take Dahn to his practice. No, it’s not stupid. He enjoys it. Look, can we not get into how you feel he should be doing something a bit more masculine? For fuck’s sake, how can you be queer enough to suck dick but not willing to have your son twirl a baton? No, I do not want to hear it. No one will care, Chris. Honestly, your days in the limelight are over. Just take Dahn to his lesson and stop being such a fucking twit.”
Silence fell. We all focused on the cake to hide the fact that we had been eavesdropping on a highly personal call. Guess I had a nephew. Who knew? Not me.
“Sorry,” Dodge said when he flopped back into his seat. Granny handed him a slice of cake with thick homemade cream cheese frosting. “My ex used to play football. He’s got a signing tonight and our son has an extra-curricular to attend.”
“What team did he used to play on?” Linc asked as he forked a huge bite into his mouth.
“San Francisco. He’s Chris Martins.” Linc’s eyes flared. “Yeah, that Chris Martins.”
“I’d read he came out about ten years ago, after he retired.”
“Yeah, more like twelve. We got married when I was just out of college, May-December kind of relationship, and adopted our son Dahn within a year of exchanging vows.”
“Oh how amazing! I have a great-grandson!” Granny nearly dropped the wedge of cake she was putting on my plate. “How old is he?”
“He’ll be ten in November.” Dodge beamed when he spoke of his son. I was happy to see that. Fathersshouldbe proud of their sons.
“Wow, so you were married to Chris Martins of the San Francisco Golden Rams.” Linc sat back in his chair, cake gone, and dusted some crumbs from his beard. “That man went through offensive lines like a tank. ?Course that was what? Twenty years ago?”
I knew the name and was equally impressed. Dodge nodded solemnly before taking the slice of cake that had been directed at me that Granny now wanted to give to the man who had made her a great-grandma.
“Yeah, twenty years ago. So, Baker, about your offer…” Dodge steered us back on course.
“Right, so, I have ten grand for each of you in the bank. I can write you all checks now, and tomorrow you can be on planes to return to your kids or whatever it is you all have going.”
