Page 54 of The Lilac River

Dad slammed his palm down. "I own this ranch. You boys work for me."

My jaw tightened. My fist clenched on the table, knuckles pale.

"Wearethis ranch," I said, standing. "You just show up to bark and threaten. Mom made this home. Not you."

A flicker of something passed through Gunner’s eyes. Pain, maybe. Recognition. His gaze flicked toward the empty wall where her portrait used to hang, before Dad replaced it with soulless art no one cared about. I still remembered the way she smiled in that photo, soft and proud, clutching a sprig of lavender like it meant something. Like we all did, once.

"Next summer," Dad said flatly. "It’s happening."

"Over my dead body." I shook my head. “Not. Fucking. Happening.”

“Have you even thought about this?” Wilder shook his head, despair in his eyes. “Because contrary to what you think, I have a decent head for business. I know how much things cost. I mean there’s lodges for the people to stay in. A kitchen to make food for them. Staff to take care of them.” He counted them all off on his fingers, his nostrils flaring with fury. “There’ll be laundry, cleaning?—”

“Okay,” Dad snapped. “I am aware of the details. That’s why I have some consultants lined up to come and look around. They’ll give us costings and projections on the profit we can make.”

I shoved the file back at him. “You can take that with you. We don’t need it.”

He stood, his hands hanging from his hips and stared down at each of us in turn. Intense and demanding. Steely and uncompromising. "Unless you have another solution, it’s dude ranch or sell."

At the door he turned, hand on the doorknob. "And the lavender farm is going, no matter what."

My chair screeched back as I stood, heart thudding.

"Like hell it is."

He left.

Silence.

Gunner rubbed his temples. "Do we actually need the money?"

"No," Wilder said. "Checked the accounts. We're stable. Don’t get me wrong, more money would be great, but we don’tneedit."

“Wilder’s right.” I nodded. "But you know who probably doesn’t have liquidity?"

"Dad."

"Exactly."

"So, the dude ranch..."

"It’s a cover," I said. "Makes the ranch look profitable. More attractive to buyers."

Wilder groaned. “A report from the consultants saying how profitable it could be will drive the price right up.”

“Fuck,” Gunner hissed.

“Yep, fuck,” I replied, my heart sinking down to my feet. “The only intention he has is to sell the place. He has no plans whatsoever to try and make this place work.”

Wilder scratched the back of his neck and grinned. “Remember you mentioned about having him killed, is there any chance we could give him something to bring on a heart attack?”

Gunner groaned. "Wild, you’re terrifying."

"You're welcome." He pushed out of his seat. “Anyone want a beer?”

I clapped him on the back. "Forget the beers. Let's crack shithead’s Macallan."

They grinned. But even that didn’t wash the bitterness off my tongue.

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