Page 47 of Peach Blossom Hollow

His mom was really studying him now, with a sort of curious expression similar to one he saw on Violet’s face when they talked about these things.

“I hope you’re not taking what you saw us doing and using it as relationship advice.” Her tone was stern.

“But…” He gestured to the banner someone had painted that said Congratulations on 40 Years!

They’d made it. What they’d done worked.

Jenny-Lee squeezed his arm. “A relationship has to be nurtured. You can’t neglect it.”

He gestured to the banner again.

“Come with me.” She dragged him back to the kitchen, where she pointed to the table. “Sit.”

He grabbed a chair, and she collected the ceramic cat cookie jar from the counter, then joined him at the table like old times. He took two of her homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, savoring the sweet cinnamon taste. It made him think of baking cobblers with Violet.

His mom took a cookie for herself and plunked the jar on the table between them.

“A lot of our time went into the business when you were younger. So much was riding on it and we were too exhausted at the end of the day to put effort into our relationship.”

He nodded. He remembered those years, the exhaustion and strain.

“We considered separating a few years ago.”

“What? Why?” They’d been inseparable. It had driven him nuts, seeing the lack of efficiency when they’d both work on the same job together instead of dividing and conquering the ranch’s never-ending to-do list.

Wait.Time.It was one of the things Violet had listed. Maybe spending time together was a way they expressed their love for each other.

His mom’s smile was sad. “A lot of reasons.”

“Name one.”

“Because our son, who was supposed to be going out into the world and making his own way, had one foot stuck on the ranch, which was pulling him down.”

Leo looked his mom dead in the eye and said, “And I would do it all again.”

“I know. But no son should ever have to sacrifice like that. For a while, at the beginning, your dad was holding on to the money you were sending, planning to give it back to you. We came really close to letting the bank foreclose.”

“You didn’t want the help?”

“No parent would ever wish to need to be bailed out by their kid. It’s…”

Humiliating. Humbling. Shameful, even. He’d never thought how they might feel about his help, had only thought of how they’d feel if they’d been turfed off their land.

“Your name is on the deed.”

“What?” How would they get that past the lawyers and banks without his knowledge? Could you even do that?

His mom reached across the table, laid her hand over the one still holding his forgotten cookie. “It was give it to you or to the bank.”

“Yeah, don’t give it to the bank.”

“Your dad decided that if this place meant that much to you, it should be yours. Your money, your asset. We’re just taking care of it for you.”

“What? No. It’syours, Mom. Yours and Dad’s.”

“We were going to discuss this tomorrow before you fly out.” Her eyes were damp.

“Why did you decide to stay?”

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