Page 59 of Christmas at the Ranch
“You seem right at home here,” my mother says—but for some reason, this gives me another pang. I want to feel at home here, I realize. But will I ever, truly?
Now we’re in front of Gill’s. The window frame is outlined by twinkling green and red lights, and there’s a big wreath on the door. The fishing-lure door chimes ring out as we enter. Gill is serving a customer, so we wait in line until he’s finished. I feel nervous. I think about what Charlie told me, and Tate, too, about how upset he is, how wounded his pride is. What if he says no to us? Or tells us to leave? I know we can’t really make any of what my father and his cousin did right, but I want to try.
Gill gives the customer their bag of takeout, and the woman smiles at us as she leaves. My mother smiles back and says, “Happy holidays!”
I’ve never seen her like this—so authentic and warm. As if Evergreen is having a positive effect on her.
Now we’re at the front of the line and my heart is pounding hard. I swallow a few times, but my throat is dry.
“How may I help you?” Gill asks with a welcoming smile.
“I…I’m Emory Oakes,” I say.
“Well, I know that,” Gill says. “You’re working with Bruce. Saw it in the Evergreen Business Owners’ group chat.”
I’m surprised. “Then you know who I am?”
“Of course I do. Everyone does.”
“But you were so nice to me.”
He looks surprised. “Of course I was. What didyoudo wrong?”
“Excuse me.” Now my mother steps in. “I’m Cassandra Oakes. I’m her mother. And I’m here to apologize to you for what my husband took from you. I truly am sorry.”
Gill pauses. “You didn’t do anything wrong, either, ma’am,” he says. “And I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s all over now.”
“No, it’s not,” my mother says. She’s holding out the check. Gill hardly looks at it.
“No,” he says firmly. “I do not want charity.”
“It’s not charity,” my mother says. “It’s the exact amount that you invested in the company. Plus a decade of interest. It’s for you. Please, take it.” She puts it down on the counter.
Gill looks down at the check for a long moment. Then he looks back up at us.
“I can’t take that,” he says.
“But it’s your money!” my mother exclaims.
He shakes his head. “Are you able to pay back all the people who lost money in your husband’s Ponzi scheme?”
“Well, no. The money simply isn’t there. That’s the nature of a Ponzi scheme, sadly.”
“I can’t,” he says. “I appreciate it, I do. But it’s just not right.”
“But why not?” My mother’s tone is pleading now.
“Because I can’t be the only one to get my money back. I’m sure there are people far worse off than me. Why am I the one who deserves it?”
I don’t know what to say to this and I can tell my mother doesn’t, either. She opens her mouth, then closes it.
Finally, she says, “Well, we simply can’t make it right with everyone. It’s not possible. But we could try, we could pay back a few more people…”
He shakes his head again, picks up the check, and hands it to her. “I do appreciate the sentiment, really. But I’ve been thinking a lot since the news broke last week. Yes, my nest egg is gone, the money I inherited from my father. I’ve done just fine all these years without it. It was my retirement fund, but my wife died a few years ago and to tell you the truth, retirement doesn’t seem so appealing. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I didn’t have this place. I’ll be just fine. I’ll keep running this place and doing what makes mehappy until I do finally decide it’s time to retire. Then I’ll sell the business and that will be my nest egg. I’m okay. Really I am.”
I can tell my mother still doesn’t know what to say—that maybe she has never experienced something like this before, someone being so selfless. The truth is, neither have I. I feel overwhelmed by his kindness.
And then he says, “Now, why don’t you sit down and let me bring you some lunch? I imagine you’ve come a long way, Mrs.Oakes, and that you’re hungry.”
