Page 27 of Wylder Ranch
It was a tough decision.
I spent every day of the past five years busting my ass to pay off my parents’ debts, and I’d just become debt-free. But the Christmas season is demanding, and it requires work all hours of the day. I couldn’t have done that with Everly, and I wasn’t willing to compromise our time together. So I used what little savings I had to get us by, along with a couple of shifts in the Old Saloon before she was born, and a credit card.
But on the nights when she’d keep me awake moving in my belly, and I was too hot to sleep or get any way comfortable, I’d panic. Then panic some more.
Because I had no clue how we were going to survive.
It was after one of those nights that I contacted the broker about selling my parents’ place and land. But I couldn’t do it. Even for one hundred million dollars.
It’s a sum so inconceivable to me that not having it was easier than having it. There’s a responsibility that comes with money that size, and it was too terrifying to consider seriously.
“It was a hard pregnancy?”
“Yeah. And a hard birth. I was in labor for forty hours. I needed all the drugs.” I laugh, something I can do now. Sort of.Sometimes.
“Were you alone?”
I shake my head. “No, Saylor was my birthing partner. Joe and Martha were in the waiting room.”
Alex’s deep blue eyes meet mine, the sorrow behind them obvious. “Haven, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t help.”
There’s an underlying tone to his words. He’s sad he missed it all, that I excluded him, and truthfully, I am too. I took an experience from him because of my own stubbornness in admitting I couldn’t do everything by myself.
And I’m quiet when I respond, “Yeah, me too.”
I wonder if he’s going to say any more when he groans suddenly. “Oh God.”
“What? Did she poop?” I hold my hands out to take her back.
“No. It’s my mother and Clementine. I apologize in advance. My mother can be a little intense.” He grimaces. “I didn’t think they’d do this today, at least not quite so obviously. I’m sorry, Haven.”
“She’s your mom, Alex. She’s looking out for you.”
“Well, if you think that, then you might get on better with her than most people, although she took quite quickly to Holiday. Maybe it’s Americans she likes.”
I totally forget what we’re talking about because I still can’t believe his brother is dating Holiday Simpson. I watched her latest movie on the flight over. Tried to, anyway.
“She came into my store once, in Aspen. And now she’s here too. It’s so cool,” I say like the true fan girl I am, not that Alex is listening. He’s too distracted by his mother’s arrival.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll meet her soon too. But one thing at a time,” he mumbles as the bell above the door jingles.
Even if Alex hadn’t mentioned his mom was coming into the coffee shop, I’d have still been able to pick her out of a lineup because she looks exactly like Clementine will in forty years. I can see so much of her in Alex too—same cheekbones, full lips, and strong, determined brow.
Even though she’s dressed in slacks and a cozy sweater, aside from a huge diamond on her ring finger, she’s relatively understated, which makes her appear even more distinguished.
I’m halfway raised out of my seat before I drop back down, unsure about what to do. What’s the etiquette? How do I greet her? And as Alex is still holding Everly, I can’t even use her as the barrier between us.
In the end, Clementine saves me by squeezing in next to me and pulling me in for a one-shoulder hug.
Alex’s mom doesn’t speak immediately. Her eyes travel over Alex and down to Everly, where they stop. She studies my unusually quiet daughter in her son’s arms, and then says, “Gosh, she looks just like you did as a baby.”
“Told you,” mutters Clementine.
I didn’t even know I was that tense, but the relief I feel at her statement has my body loosening. When she turns to me, sending the full force of a smile my way—one which doesn’t quite reach the eyes—I know I’m going to have my work cut out for me in winning her over.
“Hello, you must be Haven. I’ve heard a lot about you from my sons. I’m Victoria Burlington.” Her tone is crisp and brusque, and for the first time, I’m thankful for the experience of dealing with hundreds of snooty customers in my store, the bakery, and especially the Old Saloon when I’m helping out Joe.
The temptation to get up and curtsy is strong, but I manage to stay seated and smile instead. A genuine one. “I am. Yes. It’s good to meet you.”
