“It’s complicated,” Jackson said.
To which Grant laughed and said, “I hope you look that sad at my funeral, Mr. Crane. You ever been married? I’ll let you in on a little secret: It’s always complicated.” I guess Grant thought he was imparting the wisdom of the world, like he was the first guy to ever figure out that women are crazy and impossible to understand. “Go on, now, give it to me straight,” he’d said to Jackson. “Tell me how complicated it is. But don’t say the Porsche, ’cuz I ain’t leaving it. Have you found out who can bury me in it yet?”
“Not yet. I’m working on it.”
“You must think I got all the time in the world. I need to get that nailed down. All right, so?” he’d said, and with his hand, he gestured for Jackson to speak.
I know this: Jackson doesn’t like it when people tell him to hurry up and talk. But he didn’t mind then because he said that the gesture of lifting his hand and waving it around wore Grant out, and Jackson knew then that Grant really was going to die. Jackson found his balls, I’m happy to say, and he told him, “You’re not going to have anything to give your kids when the divorce is finalized. You’re broke, Mr. Tyler. The only thing you’ll have left is Homecoming Ranch.”
“That’s all?” Grant asked, like he couldn’t believe that being the financial genius he was, he could have screwed things up that bad.
“That’s all,” Jackson said.
That was not what Grant wanted to hear. Hell, it’s not what I wanted to hear. The thing is, Homecoming Ranch is really complicated. It’s my home. It’s where Luke and I grew up. Dad believes Grant really meant to help him out when he gave him that piddling sum for Homecoming Ranch, but I don’t think so.
“Well to hell with it, then,” Grant said, and Jackson said he sank back against the pillows and that for once, he didn’t look so big. He looked pretty small and frail. “It’s the thought that counts, right?” Grant said, as if he was seeking some affirmation from Jackson that it was okay to totally screw over your kids. “Leave that to them.”
That should have been the end of it, but Jackson must have been really bothered by it, because he said, “You know you are upside down on the ranch’s mortgage. It’s more headache than legacy. You’re leaving them a big mess.”
But ol’ Grant chuckled and gestured to himself, lying in the hospital bed in one of those gowns that hardly covered him, with a bowl to catch his vomit on the table in front of him. “You think I ought to get out there and spruce the place up? Those girls will just have to turn it around if they want anything out of it, won’t they? It’ll be good for ’em. Builds character.” He’d grinned at Jackson. “It’s the best I got, Jackson. Now, write this down. Madeline Pruett, I think she’s in Florida, but you’ll have to do a little digging with that one. And then Emma Franklin or Tyler, I don’t know what the hell she’s going by these days. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s still in L.A. I ran into her mamma not too long ago. That gal is still a fox.” He’d actually paused to remember Emma’s mother fondly for a moment because that man was a dog to his dying breath. “And then there’s Libby,” he’d said with a sigh, and had nodded at the door. “She’s probably sitting outside the room right now.”
“She is,” Jackson said, and I think he was probably pretty pissed off at this point. He likes Libby. Hell, everyone likes Libby. Most everyone. I hear Ryan doesn’t like her much these days, but that’s another story for another day.
I digress.
Grant was annoyed that Libby was trying to be a good daughter. “Jesus H, can’t a man just die in peace?”
“I think she’d like to offer you some comfort in that regard,” Jackson said, and I can just picture his jaw clenched tight as his fist. “And it’s not like you’re going to die any minute.”
“You don’t know that,” Grant snapped. “Tell her to come back later. I got my comfort right here,” he said, and with some effort, fished a bottle of Jim Beam from beneath his pillow. He laughed at Jackson Crane’s expression, but his laugh quickly dissolved into a painful cough.
Yeah, the end came pretty hard at Grant Tyler.
I know it did, because I know everyone in town. My name is Leo Kendrick. Don’t let my good looks and charming personality blind you.
TWO
Orlando, Florida
Unreal.