Page 23 of Awaiting the Storm
Something in me stiffens at the statement.
Son-in-law?
I watch as Albert’s expression hardens further.
Carl’s gaze returns to the man. “I know I have a lot to make up for, Albert. And I plan to do just that.”
And maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s just the tone of his voice, but I instantly dislike this guy. The way he’s looking at Albert. Like he’s not here to ask, but to take back what he thinks is his.
He gives Albert a nod. “I’ll be working with Giles again. Just wanted to say hi.”
Albert manages a polite, if tight, “Noted.”
Carl turns and heads back toward Giles, who raises his eyebrows in awhat was that all aboutkind of way. I sit again, watching Carl’s back retreat into the haze of smoke and chatter.
“That was tense?” I say to Albert once Carl’s out of earshot.
He nods, expression unreadable. “He used to be ouroperations manager. He was also Matty’s sweetheart. He proposed a couple of years ago. Thought he was gonna be part of the family.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“When the horse thieves hit us last year, we were scrambling. I had to let folks go. Matty took it hard—took it all on her shoulders. She shut down, got tunnel vision, tried to do everything herself. Carl … didn’t like it—felt neglected, I guess—and he didn’t stick around.”
I glance back toward the counter. Carl’s laughing now, sharing a drink with Giles. Like none of it weighs on him.
“She didn’t fire him?”
“Nope,” Albert says. “He left in the middle of the night. Left a note in the office that said she didn’t make room for him anymore.”
I shake my head. “He left her when she needed him?”
Albert nods once, slow and grim. “Exactly. Broke her heart.”
I feel something hot flicker beneath my ribs. Protective. Fierce. Maybe unreasonable. But I can’t help it. The thought of anyone walking away from Matty Storm in her lowest moment makes my jaw clench.
“He’s a fool,” I mutter.
Albert just shrugs. “Some men are.”
We finish lunch in silence, both of us seething. Albert doesn’t notice—or if he does, he doesn’t question it. I wouldn’t have an explanation if he did. I have no reason to hate Carl as intensely as I do at the moment. I don’t know the man. I barely know Matty.
Once we’ve finished our food, we stand, and I follow him to the door, keeping one eye on Carl, who watches Albert closely.
When we part ways, he claps me on the shoulder.
“I’m not promising miracles, Caison. But if you’re serious—and you respect her—then, yeah, I’ll stand behind you with Matty when the time comes.”
“I am. And I do.”
He tips his hat and walks out the door.
And I stand there a moment longer, watching Carl through narrowed eyes, wondering why I suddenly feel like I just met the man I’ll have to deal with in more ways than one.
The kitchen smells like heaven—fresh-baked bread cooling on the counter, casserole in the oven, and the faint sweet tang of Evelyn Storm’s peach preserves on the table. The windows are cracked open, letting in the cool midday air and the distant hum of the windmill turning lazily in the breeze out behind the ranch house. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my elbows on the worn pine, with my sisters, Cabe, and Grandpa.
“Where’s Albert?” Grandma asks as she sets the bread in the middle of the table.
“He had some errands to run. Said he’d grab a bite in town,” Cabe says as he reaches for a slice.
