Jackson had chosen the longest picnic table, one that Luke’s grandfather had built. Perhaps he wanted to make sure there was plenty of distance between everyone in case the fists actually began to fly. He passed out cans of warm Diet Coke, opened the bag of chips, and tossed them to the middle of the picnic table. The only person Luke knew who would be comfortable with such an approach to serious business was Leo.
“Okay, so let me fill in some background information,” Jackson said as he popped the top of one of the Diet Cokes. “Ladies, when Grant passed, he’d just ended his fifth marriage, and to put it bluntly, he lost his shirt in that one. All he really had left was this ranch.”
“When did he get this ranch?” Libby asked.
“He took possession about a year ago,” Jackson said and took a long swig of soda.
There was an interesting turn of phrase, took possession. As if Grant had wrested it from Dad’s grasp—which wasn’t too far from the way Luke pictured it had happened.
“At the time of his death, he was upside down on the mortgage,” Jackson added.
That was so shocking, so impossible, that Luke spoke without thinking. “There’s no way,” he said. “He bought it far under market value. How could he owe more than it was worth?”
Suddenly, all three women were staring at him.
“Oh…,” Jackson said casually, “… I should probably have mentioned that Grant Tyler bought the ranch from Luke’s father, Bob Kendrick. And he did indeed get one helluva deal.”
“Right,” Luke said. “Some might say he took advantage of my dad.”
“Well, that’s one interpretation,” Jackson said cheerfully. “But while he was waiting for your dad to live up to his end of their agreement, he divorced and he needed money. So he took out a second mortgage on this ranch, and unfortunately, the real estate market took a hit, and he found himself upside down by fifteen thousand dollars. Which, of course, does not include realtor fees. Right, Madeline?”
Madeline blinked. “Well, I… I don’t know—”
“Oh—Madeline is a realtor,” Jackson added.
“No wonder you want to sell,” Libby muttered.
“No!” Madeline protested. “My wanting to sell has nothing to do with that.” She looked at Luke, but his heart had lodged itself in his throat. A realtor. There it was, no denying, no pretending that he wasn’t going to face an uphill battle in which the odds were stacked against him.
“But you have to admit, your being a realtor could come in handy,” Jackson observed casually.
Madeline didn’t say anything. She slowly leaned forward, put her forehead on the table, and Luke thought he heard her suck in a long, deep breath. He also thought he heard her whisper something that sounded like lunatic.
“Can we backtrack to what he said?” Libby asked, pointing at Luke. “He said Dad took advantage of his dad. What does that mean? What’s he talking about?”
“We’ll get to that,” Jackson said. “But first, let me tell you that Luke’s dad had a great idea for how to make that money back and Grant was totally onboard. He had the idea to make this the destination in the Colorado Rockies for homecomings, reunions, and weddings. And he thought that you girls were just the team to make it happen.” He threw up his hands as if the problem were solved.
“Jesus, this is a chick flick,” Emma said incredulously. She stood up. “Do you have any bourbon to go with that Coke?”
“I wish,” Jackson said apologetically. “Listen, I know this is all a bit of a surprise. But I think it could work. Before Grant died, he spent what he had left on advertising this great retreat. The Johnson family—they’re out of Texas—was looking for a place just like this to have their family reunion. A place where they can camp, and the kids can raft and hike, and the men can barbeque, and honestly, I don’t know what all. But I drew up a contract and they signed, and so did Grant, and they paid their deposit, and the estate must honor that contract. It would cost you more to try and get out of it than to just do it.”
“Do what?” Madeline demanded, lifting her head.
“Now don’t get upset, ladies. There is still a lot to be done,” Jackson said. He took another long drink of his soda and crushed the can, the first outward sign that he was as uncomfortable as they were. “Ernest will be back this week, and he can do a lot of it. But we might need to hire some of the work out.”
“Such as?” Luke asked.
“For starters, we have the bunkhouse showers—”
“Shower,” Luke corrected him.
“Shower, right, at least at this moment. We need to build a separation for men and women and maybe add a few temporary showers. Maybe a few. We need to round up horses for horseback riding, move the cattle up to lease grazing, and hopefully make a deal with some river guides for rafting. The good news is I’ve already done a lot. The tents will be delivered tomorrow. Barbeque pits come next week. But we’ll need someone here to manage it all. Which could be one of you!” he said, as if he were a game-show host.
“Where’d you get the money for that?” Luke asked.
Jackson shrugged. “I sold his Porsche. It was a classic. I got enough to cover the initial improvements.”