LITMIR.BIZ

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as Kate had pointed out the night before. Becoming a professional football player had consumed him since he’d been six and a half, when his dad had first started taking him to games. He’d known then that he wanted to be one of those titans out on the field and even though he’d kept the goal to himself, he’d strived for it. Made smaller goals to achieve; goals that built on one another. Moving to Montana, where his dad had bought a construction company, hadn’t helped, but he’d taken the small school to the state championship two years in a row. That had gotten him a scholarship to a powerhouse football school, and the rest had pretty much been history.

      Truly history now.

      Enter phase two of his life plan.

      Jason slowed his steps as he reached the boundary fence to the Forest Service land, then turned to look out over the Eagle Valley. It was a beautiful little valley, stretching between two mountain ranges with a lake dead-center—a lake with a house on it that his father still wanted him to buy. There was a new resort on the far side of the valley—Timberline—where he’d promised his sister dinner. On the opposite side was the Lightning Creek Ranch, cozied up against the mountains with its broad pastures and fields insulating it from encroaching housing developments.

      It would have been the perfect sanctuary, but as Ray had told him the day before, there were other places with acreage for sale. Just none as nicely situated as the Lightning Creek or as close.

      Jason stretched for a minute, working through the kinks that were part of the territory after eight years of getting slammed to the ground, then slowly started jogging back down the mountain. What was he going to do with his future other than steer clear of Uncle Jimmy’s dealership and keep an eye on his dad? Even while jogging the thought of a nebulous future made his stomach start to knot. Pretty soon he was going to have to either come up with some kind of plan or invest in antacid stock.

      * * *

      “I HOPE WE see you tomorrow,” Mrs. Lynn, the school secretary, said with a speculative raise of her eyebrows when Allie turned in her key before going home after the first day of her long-term substitute-teaching contract. “I know things get a little wild in the library on kindergarten day.”

      “Couldn’t keep me away,” Allie assured her with a quick smile. It was, after all, a job, with a paycheck, and in truth, the lively kindergarten classes had barely fazed her—possibly because she’d been mulling over the call she’d received from the insurance agent just before lunch. The collapsed barn had been underinsured, and while they would issue a check, it wouldn’t come close to replacing the barn. The only good news was that the damage to the indoor arena was covered and they’d start to work on that claim immediately.

      But despite the rough start and the insurance issues, Allie had a surprisingly stress-free day manning the school library. Classes came and went. Teachers, many of whom she already knew, stopped by to say hello and welcome her. She’d eaten lunch with her friend Liz Belfort, who taught second grade at the school, and caught up on the local news. It wasn’t until it was time to head home that she started to feel the familiar stirrings of anxiety, and she knew it was because she fully expected to find a new disaster waiting for her on the Lightning Creek.

      She gave a small snort as she drove out of the parking lot. She’d been conditioned to expect the worst there, just as her sister Mel had told her when she’d grudgingly volunteered to hold down the fort while Dani and Jolie were away. It was true. She drove into the driveway and instantly started scouting for fallen trees, escaped livestock, lightning strikes and floods.

      Nothing, but she wasn’t totally convinced that the ranch was done with her.

      That evening, after finishing her evening chores and checking the pregnant cows, all of whom stubbornly refused to show any sign of calving, Allie poked around the remains of the small barn. It had been built in the 1960s and the wood wasn’t weathered enough to be salvaged for reuse in offices and houses, which was a disappointment. At school she’d managed to convince herself that there might be some salvage potential to help pay the demolition costs, but no. Now, if the big barn blew down, that wood would be worth something—

      Allie abruptly stopped the thought. The way her luck was going, the big barn would blow down. Best to focus on getting what was left of the small barn out of there and not wish for trouble in the form of salvageable boards.

      * * *

      EVEN THOUGH JASON had come home to be near his father, and even though he was immensely grateful that his dad was still alive, they’d already begun to slip into their old roles. Jason managed to keep his mouth shut in situations that would have triggered him in his teens, but he felt his patience beginning to wear thin. He and Max made a daily walk around the neighborhood, with his dad’s two monster Dobermans leading the way. On every walk Max directed the conversation to Jason’s future and the possibility of him working for Jim, no matter how many times he tried to steer it away. Finally, on a blustery Wednesday morning jaunt, Jason stopped walking, turned to his dad and bluntly asked him what the deal was. Why was he so hell-bent on Jason going to work for family?

      “Because business is flagging and you could help. And I don’t think it would kill you to do that.”

      For a moment Jason stared at Max. “I thought you were concerned about my future.”

      “I am. And my brother’s, too.”

      Jason propped his hands on his hips and stared up at the sky. Then he looked back at his dad. “You want me to do a job I don’t want to do in order to draw in business?”

      Max gave him an openhanded duh gesture. “For the family.”

      Jason just shook his head and started walking. “I need to think on this.”

      Max started after him and Jason slowed his steps until his dad caught up, so that he wouldn’t tax his father’s heart.

      “JD.” Jason turned and stopped, hoping his dad was going to say something sane. Instead he said, “Jimmy’s already got an ad campaign planned.”

      “Without asking me?”

      Max shrugged a shoulder. “You do the pizza ads, so we figured he could tie into that.”

      “How?”

      “We have this Jaromek look-alike—” Jason rolled his eyes at his former quarterback’s name “—and he’s going to throw car keys and—”

      “I’m going to catch them?” As if that wasn’t a lawsuit waiting to happen. Maybe if someone else parodied the commercials, they’d get away with it, but he’d starred in the damned things. “No, Dad.”

      “Look. You might have been the big man on campus for a lot of years, but you’re home now and you need to start looking out for your own.”

      Again Jason stared at his father, unable to find words. Finally he said, “Let’s talk about this later.” Because if he didn’t wait until his rising temper cooled, he’d say something he regretted. “Let’s head home.”

      The Dobermans understood the word home and immediately reversed course. Max didn’t say a word on the way back, and Jason didn’t try to make conversation. It was a tense half-mile walk and once they arrived, Jason went upstairs to take a shower. When he finished, his dad was watching television, the big dogs curled up on either side of his chair.

      “Hey,” Max said as he walked down the hall.

      “Yeah?” Jason asked, fully expecting phase two of the battle.

      “Kate forgot to buy dog food. Could you pick some up while you’re out? Wildland brand.”

      “Will do,” Jason said, glad to have a chance to make an escape. He still needed some time to work through this owing-the-family stuff. Jimmy was well able to take care of himself and if the business was flagging, it was because of him. People were still buying cars, but his uncle, quite frankly, was a manipulator. He scattered pennies in the parking lot so that people shopping for cars would think it was their lucky day. He wasn’t above pretending there were bogus problems

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