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  “I made that decision, Mom. That hasn’t changed. It’s not going to.”

  She leaned toward him. “Owning, operating, running a ranch, being a steward for its animals, depending on its crops, it’s a rewarding life, Dillon. And it’s a hard one, demanding, physical. We didn’t push you into college only for the education, though that’s important. We wanted you to see other things, do other things, experience other things. To step out from the world we have right here, see what else there is.”

  “And to get you out of a household where two women run the show.”

  Julia smiled at her mother. “Yeah, that, too. I know—we know—you love this place. But I couldn’t let it be the only place you really know. You’re meeting different people now, people who come from different places, have other views, other goals. It’s an opportunity for you to explore possibilities, potential, beyond right here.”

  He got a sick feeling in his gut, took a slow sip of Coke to settle it. “Do you want something different? Are you getting around to telling me you want to sell?”

  “No. No, God. I just don’t want my son, the best thing I ever did in this world, to limit himself because he didn’t just look.”

  “I’m doing okay in school,” he said carefully. “Some of it’s a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. And that’s outside the ag and ranch management courses. I like hanging out and talking about politics and what’s screwed up in the world. Even if a lot of it’s bullshit, it’s interesting bullshit. So that’s hearing other views. I see what some of the others are studying, what they’re working toward, and I can admire it.

  “This morning, I was just standing outside for a few minutes. Just looking, and feeling. I’m never going to be that happy being somewhere else, doing something else. I know what I want. I’ll stick, and I’ll get my degree because it’ll only help me be a good steward. That’s what I’m working toward because that’s what I want.”

  Julia sat back. “Your dad loved this ranch, and he would’ve given it all he could. But it never had his full heart like it had mine. And like it has yours. So okay.”

  When she rose, walked out of the room, Dillon frowned after her. “Is that it?”

  “No.” Maggie studied him. “That was some smart talking, my boy. She knows, and so do I, that came from the heart. When you left for college, your ‘I want the ranch’ talk was more a knee-jerk thing, more a stubborn thing.”

  “I want it more now than I wanted it then.”

  “That’s right.” She poked a finger into his shoulder. “Because a couple women bullied you into college.” She smiled as Julia came back in. “Now here’s a reward for not being too much of an asshole about it.”

  Sitting, Julia laid a roll of paper on the table. “When you graduate, you’ll be over twenty, and a man of that age shouldn’t live in the house with his mother and grandmother. He should have some privacy, some independence.”

  “And he shouldn’t have to tell the girl he hopes to get in his bed he lives with his mom,” Maggie put in.

  “So, what, you’re kicking me out?”

  “In a manner of speaking. We all work the ranch, we all live on the ranch, but . . .” Julia unrolled the paper. “We talked options to death and back again, and this is what we think is the best.”

  Dillon studied the sketches—obviously professionally done, as he could see the architect’s stamp on the corner. He recognized the stables, but the drawing showed an addition on the far side.

  “It’s a nice little house,” she explained. “Far enough away from the main house for privacy, but close enough to, well, come home. You can see from the potential floor plan, it’s got two bedrooms, two baths, a living room, a kitchen, a laundry.”

  “Bachelor pad,” Maggie said with a wink.

  “Good windows, a little front porch. This is preliminary, so we can make changes.”

  “It’s great. It’s . . . I never expected—You don’t have to—”

  “We do. You need your own place, Dillon. I’m glad it’ll be here, I’m glad you want it to be, but you need your own. And when you start a family, when in the far, far distant future, you make me a grandmother, we’ll switch. Gram and I take the little house, you take this one. You want the ranch. I believe you. This is what Gram and I want, for all of us.”

  He felt what he’d felt standing outside before breakfast. Completely happy. “Do I still get to come to breakfast?”

  Marking this as the best Christmas ever, Dillon headed out with the intention of saddling Comet, riding fence. He’d head into town later, meet his friends for pizza, catch up.

  He pulled out his phone as he walked, read the incoming text. Imogene.

  Crap, crap, he’d forgotten to text her, and tried to think of a good response while the dogs worked hard to herd him back to the house.

  Miss you 2. Sorry my mom called a family meeting & I just got out. What else? he wondered. He had to think of something else. Bet it’s warm in San Diego. If ur hanging at the pool, send me a picture. Don’t have too much fun w/o me.

  He sent it, hoped it was enough. Seconds later, his phone signaled again. With a selfie of Imogene, all that California blond hair, those big brown eyes, and that . . . Jesus, that body in a really, really tiny bikini.

  Don’t u wish u were here?

  Man.

  Sorry, did u say something? I think I passed out for a second. Guess u know who and what I’ll b thinking about all day. Talk soon gotta work.

  He studied the photo again, let out a little groan. She’d put on that pouty look on purpose because she knew it killed him.

  But when he tried to picture her there, right there with him, even with the amazing visual aid, he couldn’t.

  The dogs went on alert seconds before he heard the sound of a car coming up the ranch road.

  He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, tipped back his hat, and waited.

  He recognized one of the cars Hugh kept at Sullivan’s Rest, the fancy SUV, and grinning, delighted, whistled the dogs back. To keep them occupied, he tossed the ball high and long in the opposite direction.

  But when he turned back, it wasn’t Hugh or Lily getting out of the car.

  She carried an armload of red lilies. The wind caught at her hair, raven black, and tossed it back from her face. He’d never really understood what they meant when they said stuff like classic beauty, or good bones.

  But he knew it when he saw it. Especially when she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and those blue eyes—like laser fire—met his. Then her lips curved—really, really, really pretty lips—and she started forward.

  The dogs charged, crazed, barking.

  “They don’t—”

  Before he could add bite, she’d crouched down, angling the lilies away to try to pet both of them one-handed.

  “I know who you are.” She laughed, rubbed bellies. “I’ve heard all about you. Gambit and Jubilee.”

  She looked up at Dillon, still laughing. “I’m Cate.”

  He knew, sure he knew, even though she didn’t look much like the funny weirdo she’d played in the movie he’d seen the month before. Or like the pictures all over the internet.

  She looked, well, happy and, well, hot. Really hot.

  “I’m Dillon.”

  “My hero,” she said in a way that made his heart jitter around in his chest like his drunken roommate.

  She straightened up, apparently not worried about how the dogs got mud all over her really sexy boots—the kind that went straight up to the thighs of long legs in tight jeans.

  “It’s been awhile,” she continued because apparently he could no longer form a coherent sentence. “I haven’t been back until now.”

  She pushed at her hair, looked around. “Oh, it’s so beautiful. I never actually saw it . . . then. How do you get anything done?”

  “It’s . . . it’s all right there when you finish.”

  “I’d half forgotten the views from my grandfather’s house, and how they pull
. I spent a lot of yesterday just looking again. But today the house is full of people, and I just wanted to get out. And I wanted to come by and thank you all again, in person. I email with your mother now and then.”

  “Yeah, she said.”

  “I—Is she home?”

  “What? Yeah. Sorry. Come on in.” He dug around for rational conversation on the way. “You lost the blue. In your hair,” he added when she gave him a blank look.

  “Right. Back to normal.”

  “I liked the movie. You don’t sound like you did in it.”

  “Well, that was Jute. I’m Cate.”

  “Right.” He pulled a blue bandanna out of his back pocket when they reached the porch. “Let me get that. The dogs messed up your boots.”

  She said nothing as he hunkered down, swiped the mud off the tops of her boots. It gave him a moment to gather himself.

  “So you’re here for Christmas?”

  “Yes. All of us. A horde of Sullivans.”

  She stepped in when he opened the door.

  Their tree stood in the front window, presents piled beneath, a star on top. The air smelled of pine and woodsmoke, of dogs and cookies.

  “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll find the rest of us.”

  The dogs went with him, as if attached by invisible leashes. And she had a moment to breathe out.

  No panic, and that was good, she thought. Nerves, a lot of nerves, but the dogs had helped distract her from them.

  And Dillon. He’d looked so different. So tall now, and not so bony. She supposed he looked like a rancher—the young, sexy type—in his scarred boots and cowboy hat. So kind still, she thought, rubbing her bracelet. The way he’d bent down and wiped off her boots had made her eyes sting.

  Just kindness.

  She stood when Julia ran down the stairs. Hair in a messy ponytail, a plaid shirt over work jeans.

  “Caitlyn!”

  Open arms to take her in, to hold on.

  “This is the best surprise.” Julia pulled her back, studying, smiling. “You grew up and got gorgeous. Dillon’s getting his gram. She’s going to be thrilled.”

  “It’s so good to see you. I never really—I just wanted to come by and see you.” Cate held out the lilies.

  “Thank you. They’re spectacular. Why don’t you come back in the kitchen, sit with me while I put them in water? I was hoping you’d come by when you wrote your family would be here for Christmas.”

  “It looks the same,” Cate murmured.

  “Yeah. I think about a kitchen remodel, but never get beyond the thinking.”

  “It’s wonderful.” One of her safe places when the panic struck. “I almost didn’t come.”

  Julia got two vases—the girl must have bought every red lily in Big Sur. “Why is that?”

  “I could bring myself back here, in my head—something my therapist helped me with—when I had nightmares and couldn’t sleep again. If I came here in my head, I felt safe. I didn’t know if I’d feel that if I came, or be able to feel that in my head if I didn’t.”

  Julia turned back, waited.

  “It’s the same. I feel safe. It’s the same,” she repeated, “a remodel wouldn’t change how it feels, or what it is.”

  “Don’t rush me, boy.” Maggie brushed Dillon back as she reached the bottom of the back stairs.

  Once again Cate got to her feet. “Gram.”

  “Well, bring it in.”

  Steady now, really steady now, Cate walked into the hug. “I like your braids.”

  “’Tis the season. Dillon, get the girl a Coke and some cookies. I hope some of those flowers are for me.”

  “Do you see two vases here, Mom?”

  “Just checking. You sit down now and tell me all about your love life.”

  Cate gave Gram a sorrowful look, made a zero with one hand.

  “That’s a sad state of affairs. I can see I need to give you some pointers.”

  She stayed an hour, enjoyed every minute. When Dillon walked her out, she paused again, to look at the fields, the cattle and horses, the sea.

  “You’re really lucky.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s good you know. I have to get back, and you must have so much to do.”

  “I was just going to ride some fence. Do you ride?”

  “I love to ride. I haven’t done any since I came back to L.A., but when I lived in Ireland, we had neighbors with horses, so I rode whenever I could.”

  “I can saddle one up for you whenever you want.”

  “I’d like that. I’d like to ride again. I’ll try to get back and take you up on it. I’m glad I saw this, all this, in the sunlight. Merry Christmas, Dillon.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  He watched her drive away before he walked toward the stable to get a saddle.

  He thought how funny it was that he couldn’t picture Imogene on the ranch, but how easy it was to see Cate there. A movie star.

  It was just weird to think about it, so he put it aside and picked out his tack.

  Rather than feeding her anxiety, Cate found her visit to Horizon Ranch energized her. Timing, she thought yet again. Time to push forward with that energy.

  Some of the older cousins waged a flag football war on the front lawn. It looked vicious, so she just waved off the shouts for her to join in.

  She had her own battle to fight.

  And when she found Lily, her aunt Maureen, and Lily’s daughter Miranda in the gathering room, Cate prepared to suit up.

  “Come sit with us. We’re taking advantage of a temporary no-kid/ no-men zone.” Lily gestured her over. “Most of the youngsters are in the designated playroom, and you must’ve seen the gang out front determined to bloody each other over a football.”

  “We’re prepared to offer first aid in both areas.” Maureen patted the sofa beside her. “But for the moment, we’re taking a break from ‘I had it first,’ video game central, and shouting about fouls.” She gave Cate a one-armed hug. “I haven’t had a chance to really catch up with you.”

  “Not much to catch right now.”

  “I can’t imagine you’ll be between projects for long, but I hope you’ll take this break to have a little fun. Some of the girls are talking spring break in Cancún. You should get in on that.”

  “My Mallory’s already making her pitch.” Miranda, one of the calmest, most centered women Cate knew, continued to crochet a scarf in variegated tones of blue. She might have inherited her mother’s flame-red hair, but she maintained a kind of island of peace and tranquility.

  “She graduates in May—can’t believe that. She’s aiming for Harvard. You’ll graduate this spring, too, won’t you, Cate?”

  “Actually, I finished all the required courses before the break.”

  “You didn’t say anything!”

  Cate shrugged off Lily’s exclamation. “There’s been a lot going on.”

  “Not enough to bury that. Sweets, it’s a milestone, and we need to celebrate.”

  “It’s not like I’ll do the traditional march in cap and gown.”

  As her tiger’s eyes softened with sorrow, Lily’s smile faded. “If that’s what you want—”

  “It’s not. Really it’s not. I like having it done, you know, checked off.” To prove it, she used a finger to make a check in the air. “Done and dusted. Dad’ll get the full report and certifications after the first of the year.”

  Maureen exchanged a look with Lily. “So, are you thinking college, gap year, or a hard dive into the Sullivan family business?”

  Lily spoke before Cate could answer. “You can take some time. Your grades have always been stellar. You have a million possibilities and choices.”

  “I’m not Harvard material.”

  “Don’t devalue yourself,” Miranda said as she worked hook and wool. “You’re a bright, talented young woman. You’ve just graduated high school ahead of schedule, while working in a demanding career, doing good work building that career. And dealing w
ith difficulties no young woman should have to face led by a criminally poor excuse for a mother who’s a stone bitch.”

  She said it so smoothly, so conversationally, all without missing a stitch. At the silence, Miranda looked up. “What? Am I wrong?”

  “Not in the least. I love you, Miri.”

  “I love you, Mama. Don’t devalue yourself,” she told Cate again. “Too many women tend to underestimate their own worth. I learned from the master to believe in myself and work toward what I wanted in life. You should have, too.”

  “Maybe a few more lessons are in order,” Lily decided. “With high school in the bag, you can come to New York and visit me. Spend a week or two.”

  “I don’t want to visit you in New York.”

  It didn’t come out as she’d planned, but sharp, pointed, and on the edge of angry. And she saw the shocked hurt on Lily’s face. “I don’t want to visit you in New York,” she repeated, dulling the point, but maintaining the firm. “I want to go with you to New York.”

  “You . . . you lost me, sweets.”

  “I want to move to New York, with you.”

  “Why, now, Catey, you know I’d love to have you with me, but—”

  “No, no, don’t tell me all the reasons why not. You have to listen to my reasons why.”

  “Stand up,” Maureen murmured to her. “You’re vibrating. Stand up, use the energy.”

  She stood up, paced a minute, got her breathing under control. “I can’t stay in L.A. I can’t go anywhere, do anything. Every time I think it’ll ease off, she comes up with something else, and they’re back outside the gates.”

  This time she saw the looks exchanged. “What? What is it now?”

  “She’s engaged,” Lily said flatly. “To Conrad Buster, of Buster’s Burgers.”

  “B-Buster’s Burgers?” The sound that came out of Cate started as a squeak, rolled into a helpless laugh. “You’re not kidding?”

  “I wonder how many Triple B’s with the magic sauce she had to scarf down to rope him in. The press is doing their share of snickering, too,” Maureen added.

  Miranda hooked another stitch. “I remember her giving me a lecture once on the evils of red meat. Now she’s queen of Busterville.”