Faith came in, carrying a steaming cup of tea. She set it down beside Gloria’s hand and then plopped herself into the chair on the other side of the desk. Gloria had confided some of what was going on. She’d finally had to tell someone.
“So, now what? We go over and enact a little Black Sect Tantric Buddhist Feng Shui on the place?”
There it was. Faith’s daily recitation of the full, tongue twister of a name of the brand of feng shui she studied. She smiled out of habit. “I wish it were that simple.”
“How bad can it be?”
“A thousand times worse than you can possibly imagine.”
“I bet it’s not that bad.”
Gloria scrolled through the photos on her phone, found some of the best—or worst—of her dad’s yard and turned the phone around so Faith could see.
“Holy shit,” Faith said, her voice low with awe. She leaned across the desk and took a sip of tea from the mug she’d given Gloria. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.” She shook her head. “I love my dad. I want to help. But this is a sickness and he needs professional help. I can’t pay for that sort of help and his teacher’s pension sure isn’t enough, either.”
“Hmm.” Drumming her fingers on the desk, Faith considered her. “Speaking of money, did you see the contract that came in this morning?”
“Which one?”
Coming around to Gloria’s side of the desk, Faith slid the keyboard closer and tapped on the keys, opening up the office email and clicking on one that had come in early that morning. The subject line read, Montana Estate Sale, Stager Required.
Gloria read through the email from a real estate agent in a place called Half Moon Creek, Montana. A large ranch was going on the market and needed an experienced stager to prepare it for sale. The email intimated that the client was hoping to attract a certain type of buyer and had been given Gloria’s name as a recommendation.
“What the hell?” Gloria asked, clicking on the attached contract.
“You know someone in Montana?” Faith asked.
“Nope.”
“So where do you think they got your name?”
“I have no idea.” She reread the email. “And what do you think they mean by, ‘a certain type of buyer’? it sounds like code for something.”
“I was just reading an article about all the celebrities who are buying up ranches in Montana.”
“Like who?”
“Letterman, Dennis Quaid, Michael Keaton, Harrison Ford...”
Gloria swiveled her head toward Faith in surprise.
“What?” Faith smiled sheepishly. “So I follow celebrities? They’ve got nice places and people with nice places like to hire people like us.” She pointed between the two of them.
“I bet it was one of the guys from the fund-raiser I threw for Daisy’s bakery last year,” Gloria said, still stuck on the question of who would have recommended her for a celebrity-style job in Montana.
“That could be it.” Faith moved closer, reading the screen over Gloria’s shoulder. “But you’re not even at the best part yet. Go to the last page.”
Scrolling to the final page of the contract, Gloria read through the terms of payment. “It says 2.5 percent of the sale,” she murmured. “Are you kidding me? No flat rate?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have any idea what ranches this size go for?”
Faith took control of the mouse and went to a file she’d been working on only fifteen minutes ago, a property comparison analysis, showing her the recent sales of ranches of comparable size and location.
“Holy crap,” Gloria whispered.
“You said it.” Faith’s smile was wide. “And I have a feeling if we do well, get a big-time, celebrity buyer, we could get more deals like this, don’t you?”
Gloria considered the situation she was in. This seemed like a godsend. But there was her father. She couldn’t leave him, not alone in her place. “Maybe you should go. You’ve got enough experience to handle it.”
Leaning over her shoulder, Faith pointed to a line in the contract. “They’re asking for you, Glo. Not me. I can stay here and hold down the fort.”
Leaning back in her chair, Gloria considered the possibilities. With one contract she could earn enough to float the company for six months and to give both herself and Faith a nice little bonus. If the contract led to more high-end work, they’d be set. But the thought of leaving her father alone? It didn’t seem like a good idea.
With a hand on her shoulder, Faith said softly, “Your father made his mess, Glo. You’ve got to let him clean it up.”
“I know, but...”
She squeezed her knotted shoulder muscles. “You’re the child in this situation, not the parent.”
Faith was right. She had to take care of herself, otherwise there was no way she could help her father. But even though that made sense logically, her heart was having a hard time with the idea.
“I’ll keep an eye on your dad...and your place. I promise.”
She considered the offer for a little longer, knowing she should decline it but then...what the hell? Opportunities like this only came around once in a lifetime. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to fly out to Montana to make sure this is legit,” she said finally.
“Nope. Wouldn’t hurt a thing.”
Gloria grinned. “Okay, then. I’ll do it.”
“Yeehaw!” Faith slapped her on the back. “Montana...here you come!”
* * *
DILLON AWAITED MAX Ozark’s arrival. He was Half Moon’s only real estate agent. He was also the mayor and owner of the Gold Dust Hotel, not because he was particularly ambitious but because none of his three occupations actually kept him occupied. Max had called him earlier in the day to let him know that Gloria had checked into the hotel and he’d be bringing her out to the ranch that afternoon.
Arriving early to the ranch, he saddled up one of the spirited stallions to go for a ride. Urging the horse into a trot then a canter, he rode across the expanse of grassland and up the gentle side of the bluff. It was a hot day for May and the heat led to thoughts about the fiery redhead. She’d be so out of place here where rolling hills, pastures and streams replaced high-rises. Where the Beaverhead National Forest edged the land instead of Lake Michigan. It’d be interesting to see how she handled it.
It’d be interesting to see how she handled him, too.
Would she be surprised to see him? Nah. She must have put two and two together when she read the contract. Who else did she know in Montana?
The fact she had signed so quickly and was here only a week after he’d sent it, told him one thing. For as much as Jamie claimed Gloria didn’t like him, he knew differently. Not that the damn bet he’d made with his cousin mattered. Dillon had only made the bet out of habit. When they were kids, he and his cousins made bets over everything, from penny poker to who could catch a greased pig or be first to pole-vault over the creek. Chuckling, he gazed out at the Wells property, Silver Tree Ranch, it wasn’t quite as big as the ranch he’d grown up on, but it sure was pretty with the hills and gullies, the forests and streams and the mountains in the distance. The Cross place, Mountain Shadow Ranch, was adjacent to Silver Tree, and Dillon and Kenny had basically become best friends because of proximity. They’d gone to school together, pulled typical teenage stunts