“Hold on, now.” His father’s brows rose, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Dane. “This is your home, yes, but until I’m dead and in the ground, this place and everything on it belongs tome.” He shifted forward, tapping the stack of papers with his pointer finger. “You can disagree with me all you want, but I’ll do what I think is best, son—about Leif and the farm. I don’t need, or particularly want, your permission.” He stood, his face going red. “I didn’t ask you to give up your fancy job and come back. You don’t like the way I do things, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Dane stayed in his seat but couldn’t keep the edge from his voice. “Then who would work this place? Who is going to keep Texas Viking Honey afloat? You’re making choices that will impact us all, Dad.” He took a deep breath. “Choices that can’t be undone.”
His father stared at him, long and hard. “The place hadn’t fallen apart before you showed up, acting like you were here to save the day. Nothing needs saving. Texas Viking Honey will be fine, with or without you.”
“You really believe that?” He held his breath. “You keep lying to yourself, lying to me and Leif, and we’ll lose everything.” He was sick just thinking about it. “Everything’s not fine. You’d never sell off property if you didn’t have to.” He saw his father’s jaw tighten and knew he’d struck a nerve. “But you’re so damn proud that you’ll sell off property—our home—instead of coming to me so we can figure things out. It might be easier to keep denying there are problems, but that won’t make them disappear. What’s going on, Dad?”
“What sort of problem are you talking about, Dane? How much it eats you up that you don’t know everything? That you’re not the one calling the shots? That’s the only problem, here.” His father’s laugh was hard, the twisted smile on his face harder still. “I have a solution for you. If you’re going to keep arguing with everything I do, maybe it would be best if you left.” His father slammed his coffee cup onto the table and stomped out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.
Dane sat until his pulse had slowed and he could breathe again. One thing his father was right about, he’d never asked Dane to come home. Leif had. The chances of Leif admitting to that now were slim. More likely, his little brother would help him pack his bags and show him the door.
The truth was simple. He couldn’t leave. Not because he’d sunk a good portion of his 401(k) into the expansion, but because something was wrong. Very wrong. If he left, who knew what would happen to Leif, his father, Texas Viking Honey or his home. He was fighting an uphill battle, but there was no way in hell he’d lose.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SATURDAYMORNINGWASclear and crisp, perfect weather for barn painting. At least, Tansy hoped that was the case. She’d painted many things in her time but this was a little different. At the intersections of Highways 290 and 16, sat an old red barn. According to the Junior Beekeepers website, the barn had become the unofficial welcome sign in the early 1900s. The bright, postcardlike mural covered the entire side of the highway-facing barn. While the design hadn’t changed over the years, the cheerful greeting sign needed a complete repaint every two or three years due to sun exposure and weathering.
Tansy arrived with the sun, thankful to have some tranquility and time alone. Since Shelby Dunholm’s appearance and quick exit last Saturday, there’d been underlying tension in every corner of her home. Not that Aunt Mags wanted to talk about it. The next morning, Tansy had helped Aunt Camellia and Astrid make Aunt Mags’s favorite breakfast of vanilla honey French toast and gathered around the mosaic-topped kitchen table ready to listen. But Aunt Mags had come downstairs, thanked them for the food and picked up her newspaper as if it was any other morning—as if their worlds hadn’t been forever altered. It had been the same every morning since then.
Something had to give. Tansy slipped her Honey Hill Farms cap on, pulling her ponytail over the fastener strap at the back of her head.
The only deviation from their weekly schedule had been when Lord Byron had stolen a mirror, an earring and a silver perfume stopper from Aunt Mags’s room. If the bird hadn’t taken up residence on one of the large wooden rafters overhead, Aunt Mags might have carried out her long-standing threat and sent him off to the taxidermist’s. The earring was the only thing that had been recovered which had only added to Aunt Mags’s foul mood.
None of them knew what to do or say about Shelby so they stayed quiet.
She set up a folding table beneath a nearby sprawling oak tree, stowed the ice chests full of ice and water bottles underneath, and unpacked the muffins, breakfast tacos and juice cartons Kettner’s Family Grocery had donated.No one will go hungry, that’s for sure.
The rumble of a truck announced the arrival of Dane and Leif, their truck bed loaded down with supplies.
You owe me.Tansy swallowed. Things had gotten so off track last time she’d seen him. His mood. Her memories and daydreams. All of it. Hopefully, without Nicole around to put ideas into her headorthe Honey Bee Ladies Society breathing down their necks, today would be uneventful.
Dane stepped out of his truck and stretched. His long hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the back of his head and he had a slight stubble covering his strong jaw.
“Morning.” The corner of his blue eyes crinkled as he smiled.
Tansy took a long, deep breath.It’s a smile.People smile. No need to feel alarmed or...dazzled or flustered. “Morning.”
“Looks like they cleared out any debris for us.” He slammed the truck door, taking in their surroundings. “Reduces the chance of running into critters that might not take too kindly to us being here.” He headed to the rear of his truck and opened the tailgate. “I think we’ve got everything we need. And plenty of food. Van?” He waited for her nod. “I don’t think there’s a more generous man alive.”
Good, something they could agree on. “He’s a rare soul, that’s what Aunt Camellia always says. I don’t disagree.”
Dane’s smile changed—like he was holding something back. Almost like he had a secret? He looked at her, his head tilting to the side, before he scratched the stubble on his jaw and shook his head.
What was that look about? She wasn’t about to ask. Knowing Dane, he was goading her. That was what he did, after all.Whatever it is, I don’t want to know. And if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d believe it. She sighed. Fine, as long as she didn’t make direct eye contact, she might get through the day just fine.
The passenger door opened and Leif slid out to stand against the hood of the truck, looking every bit a human thundercloud. Tansy was pretty sure he’d melt before noon in his two sizes too big dark T-shirt, black jeans and scuffed combat boots but there was nothing to be done about it now.
“Hey, Leif.” Tansy waved. “Thanks for coming today. What’s that saying, many hands make light work?”
The teen ran his fingers through his overlong hair and glanced her way, shrugging.
“I think that’s right. It doesn’t matter.” Tansy held out a breakfast taco. “Fuel for work.”
Leif pushed off the truck and walked over. “Thanks.”
“Guess we’re the first ones here?” Dane came back, canvas tarps, bags of paintbrushes and plastic buckets in hand. He placed everything along the barn wall and turned, surveying the empty field. “Are we early?”
“I told you.” Leif’s snort was all irritation.
