Reva made her way past a row of empty chairs and sat next to Dorothy Montgomery. “Hey, Dorothy.” The middle-aged woman’s hands shook. “You okay, Dot?”
“Yeah,” was her response. Though her face didn’t seem to agree.
Reva reached for her hand and gave a silent squeeze.
Minutes later, the meeting began. Reva grabbed her well-worn and dog-eared copy of the Big Book and headed for the podium. “Hey, everyone…let’s take our seats.”
The tiny group of folks at the back found their chairs and bowed their heads.
Reva cleared her throat. “God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.”
She raised her head and looked out over the familiar faces, the ones who gathered with her here every week. “Hi, my name is Reva Nygard. I’m an alcoholic.”
10
Charlie Grace stared at the ceiling in her dark bedroom, wide awake hours before the alarm was scheduled to go off.
Today was the big day…the opening of Teton Trails Guest Ranch. According to her new reservation software, three guests were scheduled to arrive this morning. A family of four from Utah, an older couple from Florida, and a man, who had listed his address as a post office box in California, would be checking in and joining them for dinner.
She’d spent most of yesterday thinking and rethinking her plans. Word of mouth was everything to a start-up hospitality business. She needed these early ranch guests to leave happy. So happy, they would not only return but would tell all their friends about their wonderful time at Teton Trails.
Charlie Grace pushed back the handmade quilt her mother had made and climbed from the warm sheets. She flicked on the bedside lamp and headed for her office to work on the social media ads she’d tackled yesterday. No sense in wasting time.
Charlie Grace knew the cost of vacationing here at the ranch was not cheap. Her new website promised “an authentic western experience” and included accommodations in one of the newly built log cabins, homemade meals in the main lodge, authentic western barbecues around a campfire, and plenty of outdoor activities.
She’d hired Aunt Mo to lead the kitchen staff—well, the staff they’d eventually hire as they grew big enough to warrant additional help. Until then, it was just her and Aunt Mo. The operating loan Reva had helped her secure from the bank would make payments on the van she’d purchased to transport guests to and from the Jackson Hole airport when needed. She’d also now have funds to contract with Capri for whitewater excursions and to pay Ford Keaton for outdoor chuckwagon meals. No matter his older age, Ford was known as the best barbecue chef around. His charbroiled steaks cooked over an open fire could bring a man to his knees.
If things went as she hoped over these early weeks, there would be an income stream that would allow her to pay Whit Hawthorne and Merritt Tillman for extra trail rides, guided fly-fishing, and high mountain lake hikes. Until that time, she was going to have to wear a lot of hats.
She was up for it.
By the time she closed her laptop and headed for the shower, she already had a long mental list of tasks to be accomplished before the guests arrived.
When she’d dressed and made her bed, Charlie Grace headed down the hallway, stopping for a moment at her daughter’s room. Jewel was still sound asleep. She pulled her phone out and sent herself a text, a reminder that her daughter would need lunch money.
By the time she stepped onto the front porch, the sun began to peek over the jagged peaks of the Teton mountains in the distance. The stunning site caused her to pause and draw a deep breath, taking in the crisp morning air.
As she looked over the sprawling property, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Running a ranch was no easy feat, but she’d always been drawn to hard work and the freedom of this lifestyle. She’d spent years working alongside her father. Since his accident, everything had fallen on her shoulders.
But today was no day for resting on her laurels. Charlie Grace had a full day ahead of her. She checked her watch and headed across the grass lawn, past the guest cabins, and in the direction of the main lodge, built of raw logs with a sprawling wraparound porch sporting rocking chairs and tables with newly purchased chess boards and decks of cards in baskets on the floor.
The two-story lodge had been built by her grandfather years before to house cowboys and ranch workers. The upstairs was lined with a hallway with doors leading to individual rooms. It was on Charlie Grace’s agenda to eventually remodel those rooms with attached private bathrooms. Right now, her budget forced her to delay that phase. Currently, all she could afford was some sprucing up of the downstairs, adding leather sofas and new rugs along with some special paintings from a local artist. The kitchen remained unaltered and would be off-limits to guests.
In the far distance were the barns and corrals, also built by her grandfather. When he’d taken over, her father had constructed a loading chute and a machinery shed that housed the trucks and equipment. He’d also built their massive horse barn with individual stalls and a tackle room. The barn was painted white and was emblazoned with their ranch logo.
Charlie Grace climbed the steps to the wooden porch and headed inside the lodge. The smell of coffee and sizzling bacon immediately hit her nose. She followed the aroma to the kitchen, where she found Aunt Mo standing at the stove. “You’re preparing breakfast?” she asked, puzzled.
“Honey, didn’t you see my note?”
“What note?”
“The one I left on the kitchen counter.” Her aunt wiped her hands on a towel tucked inside the band of her apron. “That family is coming in early. They called and said they’d be here this morning. Asked what time we served breakfast.” She pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “Of course, I said we’d have a meal ready when they arrived.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Which should be soon.”
Aunt Mo pointed to a bowl just out of her reach. Charlie Grace handed it to her. “I hope that’s okay. I figured it’s what you’d want.” She set to cracking eggs into the bowl. “I tried to call you on your cell, but you didn’t pick up. By the way, your voicemail box is full.”
Charlie Grace frowned and pulled her phone from her jeans pocket, confirming that what her aunt said was true. “Sorry,” she shrugged. “I’ll go through and clean the messages up later.”
She grabbed an apron and tied it on. “Now, what do you need help with?”
