Page 95 of The Wedding Ranch
“No. I feel funny about that.”
“Well, then put them up without any information on the artist. No rule against that. Whatever I can do, you let me know. I could work on any branding you might need.” She stood and held up her plate, looking around for a trash can. “Where do you want me to put this?” Lorri reached her hand out to him. “I can take yours too.”
“Best thing about all of these plates and the cutlery is you can toss them in the fire. Totally disposable.”
She lifted the wooden utensils from the bowl. “These too?”
“Completely. Ross is all into that zero-footprint thing. He gave them to me for Christmas a couple of years ago and I’m hooked. Go ahead. Throw them in.”
Hesitant, she waited to see if he was going to stop her, but he didn’t. As soon as they hit the coals the flames licked the edges of the bowls making them disappear into curling smoke. Embers sparkled along the edges of the utensils, burning them quickly to nothing but ash. “I don’t mind doing dishes as much as I thought,” she teased.
“It’s kind of liberating, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” She brushed her hands together as she watched Ryder push dirt over the fire and secure the area.
“You ready to go?”
“Guess so.” But that wasn’t entirely true. It was hard to leave, and it was getting harder to say goodbye to him.
Ryder drove her and Mister home, walked her to the door, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.” There was something more in his voice that she couldn’t put her finger on.
She and Mister went inside. She got undressed and showered.So much had happened between her and Ryder in the short time they’d known one another. Something real. She felt it when they were apart. Needed it when they were together.
In her bedroom she lifted the blinds, wanting to sleep beneath those twinkling stars. Lorri slipped under the covers and lay there looking out at the sky. The moon was a sliver. Mister laid beneath the window, exhausted from their busy day.
The next morning, she resisted the urge to call Ryder and thank him again for the night.
It’s an excuse. I already said thank you last night.
She had plenty to do, and even though she thought of Ryder often throughout the day she didn’t call.
Her calendar was full of meetings, and two new proposals to work on. One was for a bookstore chain slated to open twelve locations in closed movie theatres in major cities across the country. It would take the bookstore experience to a venue where booklovers could gather for live hosted events or via satellite on the big screens. It was a great concept. The other was annual updates to the Ford automotive materials. She’d been in charge of those for over six years now. It was a huge amount of work, but they were never looking for anything very different, preferring the vehicles to be the draw, so it was more project housekeeping than creativity.
At the end of her workday, she was satisfied with all she’d achieved, but disappointed that Ryder hadn’t reached out.
She fed Mister then let him out back, taking her laptop with her. A bird fluttered from a branch to the new birdhouse, making it sway under his weight.
Mister took off across the yard after a squirrel who’d already scaled a tree and hopped to another before he ever made it over. He stood there looking a bit defeated.
The bird squawked, as if warning Mister, or maybe he was making fun of him. Poor Mister. He wasn’t the hunting type. No, he was slow even at full speed; only the length of his legs gave him the advantage to make it anywhere in a hurry.
His nose to the ground, he traced the curling trail of some animal that must have crossed the yard recently.
She opened her laptop and searched for the article she’d seen in Ryder’s study. She’d only had a moment to scan the details.
She typed in Ryder’s name first. A long list of agriculture boards, hay for sale, even an article about The Wedding Ranch filled her screen. Apparently, he’d been the prize pitcher of the Dalton Mill High School baseball team, setting records and even being scouted for the minors. He’d tried to stop the land sale between Bloom and his parents to no avail.
There were no pictures of him playing baseball, but she did run across one of his house before the porch and shutters were added. There was also an aerial of the entire spread. The best she could tell, she was situated just below where his parents’ house had once been. Maybe in their old front yard.That must be weird for him. Small world.
She continued her search trying other keywords. Finally, by searching the name of the local paper, then going through the archives from seven years ago, she was finally able to track down the article.
She took her time reading through it word for word thistime. There weren’t many facts about the accident itself. It was more of a local interest story telling about why Valerie had been in Raleigh that morning, and the loss it was to the community. She’d driven to visit a former Dalton Mill resident, Agnes Dewey, who’d been moved to an assisted living center to be closer to her daughter. Valerie and her four-year-old son spent the afternoon and evening with Mrs. Dewey, bringing her Valerie’s homemade strawberry preserves. They’d worked on a puzzle made from a photograph of butterflies taken on the family’s farm that summer.
The journalist clearly understood the little things mattered the most. The mention of the homemade preserves and the puzzle seemed so familiar that she felt connected to the people in the story.
Valerie must’ve been a special woman. She could see Ryder having wanted to drive them himself, but he’d never have told her not to go. That would have been selfish, and Lorri knew there was nothing selfish in that man’s spirit.
The last line of the article was vague, mentioning the driver of the other car had been convicted of two prior DUIs.
