Chapter Six
Chapter One
Gina was rushing out to get herself another espresso before the upcoming meeting when her office phone rang. Knowing that it might be someone from Grant Industries, she lunged toward her desk before her assistant, Carrie, picked up. “This is Gina Arnett.”
“It’s Uncle Redd.”
Of all times for him to call.
“Hi,” she said. “I know I haven’t phoned you lately, but I’ve been in a real crunch here, working on that holiday promotion for Grant Industries—the big retailer I told you about last time we talked. If they like the results from the campaign I’ve put together, they’ll put me on retainer for them for the next year.”
Plus she’d earn a fat year-end bonus, which she really, really needed.
She checked her watch. Still time to race down to the coffee bar and get that espresso—if she hurried. “We’re rolling out part two of our Holiday Magic campaign tomorrow, and you wouldn’t believe how busy I am right now. Can I call you back tonight?”
“I need to tell you something, Gina,” her uncle said in a solemn tone Gina had rarely heard. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”
She frowned. “What’s happened?”
Uncle Redd usually cut straight to the chase, and this time was no different. “Sometime during the night, your uncle Lucky had a heart attack. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” She sank onto her desk chair.
“I’m afraid so.” Her uncle cleared his throat. “How soon can you get home?”
It had been almost seven years since she’d visited there. The last time had been for her mother’s funeral. She remembered the long flight from Chicago to Billings and the shorter connecting flight to Miles City, followed by a forty-mile drive to Saddlers Prairie. Getting there would take the better part of a day.
“I’ll need to check with the airlines and get back to you,” she said. “When do you need me there?”
“As soon as possible. Seeing as how Thanksgiving is next week, we decided to hold the funeral right away. We scheduled it for this coming Friday—three days from now.”
Funeral.
The news finally sank in. Uncle Lucky was dead. Their little family just kept shrinking. Gina’s shoulders sagged.
“Do you need help with airfare?” her uncle asked.
“No, Uncle Redd. I’m thirty years old and I make a good living.” Never mind that most of her credit cards were just about maxed out. Nobody needed to know that. “As soon as I book the flight, I’ll call with my arrival information. Or would you rather I rented a car?”
“Waste your money like that? There’s no need, honey. I’ll be waiting for you at the baggage claim.”
Uncle Redd made a choking sound, and Gina suspected he was crying. Uncle Lucky had been his last living brother and they’d been close.
Gina had also been close to him, had spent most every summer of her childhood at his Lucky A ranch. She teared up, too.
Lately, Uncle Lucky had been begging her to come back and visit, saying he missed her and needed to talk to her about something important. Now she’d never know what he’d wanted to say.
Why hadn’t she made more of an effort?
She managed to tell her uncle goodbye before she hung up. She was sniffling and looking up the number for the airline on her smartphone when the com line buzzed.
“It’s me,” her assistant whispered. “Where are you? Everyone’s here.”
By everyone, she meant Evelyn Grant, the great-granddaughter of William Grant and Grant Industries’ first female CEO. That she’d even come to the meeting showed how important this campaign was to her. She wouldn’t like to be kept waiting.
There was no time to grieve. Gina wiped her eyes, grabbed her iPad and left for the meeting room.
* * *
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Gina sat in her office with Carrie reviewing what needed to be done with each of their clients when Gina’s boss, Kevin, knocked on the door. Wearing an elegant cashmere coat and scarf over his bespoke suit, he looked put-together, handsome and successful. Sure, he was a bit on the ruthless side and on his third marriage, but careerwise, Kevin was her kind of man.
Someday, Gina hoped to meet and fall in love with someone with her boss’s drive and determination. “Carrie and I are just reviewing my client to-do list,” she said. “What can I do for you, Kevin?”
“Are you sure you can handle the Grant campaign from Montana?”
This was the third time he’d asked her that question since she’d told him about her uncle’s passing. “Absolutely,” she repeated with a reassuring smile.
As the only member of her family under seventy, she would be expected to handle her uncle’s estate, meet with the attorney and cull his papers and personal effects
