Page 11 of Sweet Beginnings

It didn’t take long for Preston to confirm everything their mother had told them. “The ranch is in some serious trouble. If Dad hadn’t chosen the year he died to borrow against the land to upgrade the hay equipment, build a new calving barn, or if the drought hadn’t struck just when we needed to increase hay production to pay for the upgrades, maybe we could have survived the only person we all trusted to run the ranch, beside Mom and Dad, stabbing us in the back instead. But all three has created the perfect storm for catastrophe.”

“How much money is it going to take?” Jill set her untouched wine glass down. “To get us over the hump? I mean, the candle shop had a good tourist season and with the corn hole championship coming up and the uptick in online orders, this is looking to be my best year ever, so I’m glad to contribute, but we’re not talking about my bank account looking anything like Fort Knox.”

He almost didn’t have the heart to tell them, but he had no choice. “Hay balers and new tractors, those alone set Dad back half a million.”

Carson looked hopeful. “Then we can sell it and pay down the loan.”

“According to the books, we bought the equipment but then there’s also a fire loss recorded.”

“Translation.” Carson sighed. “Ray probably sold it.”

Preston pinched the bridge of his nose before facing his brother again. “That’s my guess. Just to stop the snowballing penalties and interest, we’ll need almost a hundred k to cover the back payments that haven’t been made.”

“Ray?” Rachel’s eyes did that scared owl imitation.

Preston nodded. “Then there’s not enough hay to get what few cows we have left through winter. So that’ll be—”

“More money,” Carson muttered.

“Yeah,” Preston agreed. And that was only the beginning of the list.

Sarah Sue strolled into the room. “Dad says that he’s expecting the newest Mahoney to be here soon and then he’s going to stop in on his way home, so no one shoot him if you hear the front door opening in the middle of the night.”

The comment was meant to lighten the mood, but the forced smiles around the room all resembled nervous tics.

Rachel leaned forward in her chair. “What are the chances of talking the Honeysuckle Bank into giving us a loan against the trust?”

“Ha.” Jill shook her head. “Does slim to none sound familiar?”

“She’s right.” Carson leaned back, tapping his fingers on the edge of the sofa. “Whole reason our beloved, however many great-grandfathers ago set the thing up with a bank and not a family member was so that it would be guaranteed to last through the generations.”

“Well,” Preston continued to scroll through different documents, “you have to give the old goat credit for getting it right. There’s plenty of money there. We just can’t touch it.”

“Wait a minute.” Sarah Sue looked to Preston. “Y’all are trust fund babies?”

This time Rachel laughed out loud. “Not hardly, but every Sweet since Grover Eugene Sweet has inherited a small percent of the trust upon their first wedding anniversary.”

“Really?” Sarah frowned.

“Really,” Carson confirmed.

“Wow. Sounds more like a ridiculous plot for an old MGM musical.”

“Or the beginnings of a film noir,” Jill added.

Carson nodded. “It’s my understanding that there’s a small up front payment after the, er, honeymoon, followed by a nice little monthly supplement the first year of marriage, but the big payoff is the first anniversary. Once everyone in the current generation is married, then the principle isn’t touched again until the next one starts to marry.”

“And this has been going on for how long?” Sarah asked.

Carson shrugged, brows crinkled in thought. Jill stared at the ceiling doing math in her head, but it was Preston who replied, “Started six generations back. Originating in 1837.”

“Almost two hundred years?” Sarah Sue looked as stunned over that news as the rest of them were over their current situation. The Sweet family ranch had been a solid operation since before any of them were born.

“Like I said,” Carson took a slow sip of his bourbon, “it’s a nice sum.”

Rachel leaned forward again. “As in enough to get us out of this jam?”

“Don’t bother going there.” Carson faced his sister. “The bank will never agree to a loan.”

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