LITMIR.BIZ

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the amount of money that would take. “If the others agree, yes.”

       Marianne was toying with her spoon with a pensive expression. “If we keep the farm, who’s going to run it?”

       “I will,” John volunteered. “I know every inch of this place, and all the guys like me.”

       “Which is why they never listen to you,” she responded. “You’re one of the Indians, not a chief.”

       “Dad must have had someone in mind,” Lisa said with a puzzled expression. “But who?”

      * * *

       Caty’s gaze landed squarely on Matt, and he thought his heart thudded to a stop for a few seconds.

       When it started up again, he bit back a curse, because in his mind this was still his father’s house. Standing on the other side of the island, he was outside the circle at the table. Suddenly, it felt much too close.

       “Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m not moving back here.”

       “Matt, be reasonable,” Marianne said in that because-I’m-the-mom voice every kid hated. “Someone has to run this place, and Dad chose you.”

       “We’ll hire a foreman.”

       She gave him a doubtful look. “In the middle of harvest season?”

       “You can do that,” Caty explained. “Ethan paid himself a salary, and proceeds from the life insurance can be combined with that to hire extra help. After twelve months, whatever insurance money is left goes equally to John, Lisa and Matt, and into trusts he set up for Kyle and Emily.”

       “I’ll just take it out of my portion,” Matt offered. It would be worth every penny to keep his sanity.

       Frowning, Caty shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Any remaining funds will be divided equally among the five of you.”

       Matt barely stifled a groan. Without much in the way of living expenses, he could step in and run the farm for almost nothing. Hiring someone on such short notice wasn’t impossible, but the price was bound to be astronomical. If he chose to do it anyway, he’d be stealing money from the others. His father knew him well enough to be confident Matt would never do that.

       While he searched for some kind of compromise, he stalled for time. “How much are we talking here?”

       For the first time, Caty looked uncomfortable with the conversation. They’d put her in a tough spot, he suddenly realized, asking her to be professional while they sat around their kitchen table nibbling on leftovers. He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head while she shuffled through information only she knew. After a long silence, she finally answered.

       “Half a million.”

       Marianne gasped something incoherent, and Lisa squeaked, “Dollars?”

       “Yes.”

       John didn’t say a word. Rocking back in his chair, he stared across the kitchen at Matt, waiting.

       The invisible noose was back, crushing Matt’s throat until he could barely breathe. They all expected him to backtrack and embrace the life he’d escaped fifteen years ago. Sure, he could do it, but it would drive him crazy, getting up at dawn every day for fourteen hours of backbreaking work that could all be wiped out by a single hailstorm.

       He was not, and never had been, a farmer, rooted to the ground he walked on, worrying about blight and insects. Watching the sky and hoping for rain, watching the rain and hoping for sun. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.

       The last eyes he connected with were Caty’s, and he finally found what he was looking for. Sympathy.

       “This is a lot to consider,” she said in a firm, gentle voice he was convinced could soothe a rushing bull. “For now, I think it’s best if you just focus on finishing out the harvest. There’s plenty of time for the rest.”

       “I guess you’re right,” Marianne agreed, dishing up some potato salad before passing it to Lisa. “The kids and I have a lot to do, getting ready for school.”

       As the conversation began spinning around the new topic, Matt mouthed Caty a thank-you. She gave him an encouraging smile, and the invisible band crushing his chest loosened just enough for him to breathe again.

       “I’ll go pull your van in, Mare.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her keys from their hook and strode out the side door.

       Parking the van took all of a minute, but he wasn’t near ready to go back inside. It had been a long day of fighting against his emotions and biting his tongue to keep from upsetting his family. Deciding he needed some time to himself, he wandered through the backyard and over to the pond. He walked out to the end of the dock and sat down, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

       He was now one-fourth owner of a farm he didn’t want, had never wanted. At least the house was Marianne’s. He couldn’t stand living here for very long, but he knew he could never bring himself to sell the Sawyer homestead. It would have broken his father’s heart, and even though he was gone, Matt couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down. Again.

       He heard a door slam, followed by the light footsteps of someone a lot smaller than John. His sisters would know better than to follow him out here, so it must have been Caty. As he scooped up a handful of gravel, he had to admit her sarcastic cheerleader comment had impressed him. In a classy, no-nonsense way, she’d put him firmly in his place.

       She wasn’t like the other women he knew, he mused as he tossed a pebble into the water. Then again, none of them had a serious job like hers. None of them would have been at a funeral on a beautiful summer day when they could have been playing hooky from work at a lake somewhere. Lobbing in another stone, he watched the ripples work their way through the water.

       “Hey, there.” Caty offered him something wrapped in a napkin. “I thought you might be hungry.”

       Another stone plunked into the water. “Not really, but thanks.”

       Anybody else would get the hint that he wanted to be left alone. But not this one. She actually came closer.

       “It’s kind of warm inside. Do you mind if I hang out here for a few minutes?”

       Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

       “Thanks.”

       She sat a couple of feet away, not too close but close enough that he couldn’t forget she was there. He also couldn’t miss the subtle scent of roses that had come with her. Light and sweet, it suited her perfectly.

       Man, he was tired. Turning into a regular poet. He waited for her to say something so he could tell her he really wasn’t up for company. To his surprise, she remained totally silent. Leaning back on her hands, she looked up at the sky while she wiggled her toes in the water.

       For a long time they sat there side by side, not even looking at each other. Matt continued tossing pebbles, and Caty seemed content admiring the surrounding fields. Frogs croaked around them, intent on being louder than the crickets, and a couple of ducks glided past, eyeing him warily. They reminded him that this was their place, and he was only visiting.

       That didn’t do much for his mood, and he whipped the last few pieces of gravel into the water. None landed near the ducks, but they didn’t appreciate the noise and quickly changed course.

       With his hands empty, Matt eyed the muffin still sitting on the dock. Deciding that he didn’t care if she thought he was an idiot, he picked it up and broke off a piece. He popped it in his mouth and sighed in appreciation. “Blueberry’s my favorite.”

       “I’m glad.”

       She still wasn’t looking at him. He knew because he kept glancing over, and he didn’t catch her eyes even once. This was a new one for him, since women usually connected with him pretty fast.

       “Want some?”

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