the man to whom she’d once been married. Tommy was as handsome as ever, reeked of cologne and looked prosperous. But she would bet anything that he had either borrowed the money for the new clothes he was wearing, or he’d charged them. In her experience, Tommy had never set a dollar aside for an emergency, and she couldn’t believe that irresponsible trait had evolved into thriftiness during her absence. What if she hadn’t had a savings account when the call came about Simon’s death? How would she have paid for her flight home?
“Hello, Tommy,” she said, while marveling that she had once believed herself to be madly in love with this man. Of course, in those days she hadn’t known that a handsome face was Tommy’s one and only asset. In fact, looking at him now, she felt pity. It was an impersonal pity and in no way touched her soul. But it was sad that he had no ambition to better himself. She would be surprised if he even had a steady job.
He grinned at her, that cute grin that used to give her goose bumps. “You’re looking good.”
She smirked because she couldn’t look worse if she’d tried. Oh, her black dress was attractive and her hair was nicely arranged, but her face was puffy and the tastefully small amount of makeup she had put on this morning was long gone.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. Recalling his initial remark about Simon giving them a hard time, she added, “Especially in light of your dislike of Dad.”
“Hey, you didn’t like him very much, either. And you had good reason. We both did. If he would have shelled out a few bucks when we needed it, we might still be married.”
“It was not his place to ‘shell out a few bucks,’ Tommy. And if you care to remember, we always needed money. What did you expect him to do, give us a weekly paycheck? If you have the gall to blame Dad for the breakup of our marriage, don’t tell me about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
She wound her way through the crowd, stopping briefly to accept condolences and words of sympathy, some of which she appreciated as they were from old friends of her father’s, neighboring ranchers, for instance. Eventually she reached the other side of the room. She was glad to see Tommy leaving through the front door, and wondered why he had bothered to get all dressed up and attend the funeral of a man he’d despised. Surely he hadn’t supposed she would be thrilled to see him. And how dare he make derogatory remarks about Simon, today of all days?
Had Tommy married her because he’d thought her father would support him? What a ghastly idea that was, but it probably should have occurred to her before this.
Still, it was water under the bridge and totally immaterial to not only today’s events but to her life in general. She really had no feelings at all for Tommy. There were memories, of course, some good, some bad, but feelings? No, there were none within her.
Another incident that stood out occurred when most of the crowd had dispersed and only a few people remained in the living room. They were talking to Nettie. Dena hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and she went to the kitchen. Nibbling on a piece of ham, she stared out the window over the sink with her back to the room.
She felt drained and empty. For years she had been passionate about reconciling with her father. Without that driving force gnawing at her vitals, life seemed rather purposeless. Could she simply go back to Seattle, her job and friends, and act as though she hadn’t received the worst possible blow fate could have dealt her?
“Dena?” She turned slightly. Ry was standing there. “Are you all right?” he asked.
For the first time since she had met this man, she really saw him. He looked clean and crisp in his dark gray Western pants and shirt. There was a black string tie at his collar, and his black leather boots looked smooth as satin and shiny as a mirror. He wasn’t as handsome as Tommy. Rather, his features weren’t as perfectly arranged as Tommy’s. But he was tall and strongly built, and there was a mature, outdoorsy handsomeness to his face that Tommy would never attain. Tommy relied on being cute and thought the world owed him a living; Ry earned his own way and would probably be insulted if anyone referred to him as cute.
“I’m okay,” she told him. Ry had spoken to her before this today, but she honestly couldn’t remember what he’d said. In fact, much that had occurred—at the cemetery, especially—had seemed to vanish from her mind. Temporary memory loss, she thought. A measure of self-protection. It was natural and normal, and she was glad she didn’t recall every painful detail of the day.
Ry walked over to the table and took a cookie from a container. There was a lot of food left, and some plates and bowls to be returned to their owners when Nettie got her kitchen organized again.
Munching on the cookie, Ry looked at her. “I wanted to commend you for planning a sensible service.”
“A funeral is bad enough without wringing every drop of emotion out of everyone attending it,” she said quietly.
“Agreed. I arranged similar services for my parents.”
“You’ve lost your parents, too? Do you have any other family?”
Ry recalled mentioning one of his sisters the night he’d picked her up at the airport, but saw no good reason to remind Dena of it. “Two sisters,” he said. “They both live in Texas. I guess you’re an only child.”
“Yes.” Dena was suddenly choked up. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Ry nodded. “Then we won’t. Dena, about the ranch...”
She cut in. “I’d rather not talk about that, either, if you don’t mind.”
“All I was going to say was that you can count on me to be here for as long as you might need my help. It’s pretty apparent that you don’t know what’s coming next, and while I feel Simon left you the ranch, I guess anything is possible. Whatever happens, I’ll hang around until you know your next move.”
“The other men won’t.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Can they work without paychecks? I don’t think so.”
“You just might be surprised about that. Besides, someone will have the authority to keep the ranch going, either you or a court-appointed manager.”
Dena frowned. “Are you saying that if Dad didn’t leave the ranch to me, the court will take over?”
“The state, Dena, and only if there’s no will. As methodical a man as Simon was, I can’t believe he didn’t have a will. Have you talked to John Chandler yet?”
“He’s out of town until the fifteenth.”
“Well, that’s only a few days away.”
“But I might not be here.”
Ry looked startled. “You’re not thinking of leaving so soon, are you?”
“I have a job in Seattle.”
“You have a lot more than a job here.”
“You’re only surmising that.”
“True, but it doesn’t make sense that you would leave before knowing exactly what Simon had in mind for the ranch.”
“If
