They took Daniel’s advice and had dinner by the pool. The evening was mild, the skies clear and the breeze a gentle caress. The pool—a large, formal affair with turquoise water, marble statues standing sentry at intervals around it—overlooked a view of the azure ocean as the sun descended toward the horizon. Gardens of deep green grass with trimmed hedges and rose bushes surrounded the pool area. They set up their meal at a table to one side of the pool, next to a fountain that sent plumes of water skyward.
Jackson had thought of everything. He’d packed plates and wineglasses along with the food, as well as flatware wrapped in white linen napkins. Ryan set everything up and then opened a bottle of wine and poured.
The menu, carefully chosen foods that could be served cold—all vegetarian for Ryan—included an appetizer of red pepper dip with crusty bread; a colorful salad with radishes, beets, carrots, sweet potato, and escarole; fusilli with spinach and sun-dried tomato pesto; and a dessert of coconut raspberry cookies.
“This looks amazing,” Gen said when it was spread out on the table.
“I’d like to take credit, but this was all Jackson,” Ryan informed her.
“Kate’s a lucky woman,” Gen said, digging into the red pepper dip.
Ryan looked at her with that smile that made her heart go all liquid and soft. “You know, I felt a little stab of jealousy when you said that. Made me want to go punch Jackson in the face.”
“It would be a shame to do that when he’s been so good to us,” she said. Then: “You really felt jealous?”
“I did.”
Something about that made her ridiculously happy, so much so that she giggled, and she did not consider herself to be a giggling woman.
The food was delicious—she’d expect no less from Jackson—and as she ate, she reflected that this date was not at all what she’d expected. Dinner, she’d thought, maybe a drive down to the next town for a movie. This—coming to the Cooper House—was a twist she could not have predicted. So this is what it’s like to be filthy rich, she thought, taking in the gardens, the fountain, the endless expanse of the pool, the beauty of the sky as the sun lowered itself toward the ocean, bathing the horizon in oranges and reds. But then she thought, no. If she were filthy rich, she probably wouldn’t even notice this. The beauty would be all around her, but she’d be so used to it that she wouldn’t even see it. This was better.
“So you said Christopher Mills rarely even comes here?” It was hard to believe that someone could have this and take it for granted.
“That’s what Will says. He’s here maybe two, three weeks out of the year. The rest of the time, it sits empty.”
“That’s such a shame.”
“It is.”
“What would you do if you had this kind of money?” she asked, sipping her pinot noir.
Ryan didn’t say anything. He avoided her gaze, poking at his food.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He shrugged. “Not exactly. It’s just …”
“What?”
“Well. I do.”
“You do what?” She was confused. What was happening here? What had she stepped in?
“I do have this kind of money.”
Gen was thunderstruck. Her fork fell onto her plate with a clatter.
“You do?”
“Well …” He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
Gen thought back to her visits to the Delaney Ranch. The main house was roomy and comfortable but shabby. She remembered the old linoleum on the kitchen floor, the countertops that were cracked at the edges. She thought of Breanna and her kids, and how Gen had assumed she lived with her parents because of financial struggles. She thought about how Ryan did all of the hard work on the ranch—including putting in Kendrick’s skylight. He did all of that, not some workers he’d hired. She never would have guessed that there was money there, other than the land itself, which had to be of immense value.
“Wait, wait, wait. Back up.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples, feeling a pressure there, like the information she’d just received was struggling to get out of her head.
“All right, here’s the thing.” He leaned toward her, his wineglass in his hand, and warmed to the story. “My great-grandfather’s great-grandfather got some acreage of land as part of a Mexican land grant in 1846. The Delaney Ranch, it’s only maybe ten percent of the land he was given.”
She blinked at him. “Ten percent?”
He nodded. “Right.”
But the Delaney Ranch was huge. “Well … what happened to the rest of it?”
“Mostly it was sold off over the years. My grandfather was the one with the real head for business. He sold some land—a lot of land—and put the profits into real estate. The ranch … Well. We do it because we love it. Because it’s what our family has always done. But it barely makes a profit. Our real business is real estate.”
“Real estate.” She realized that she was blindly repeating him, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah.”
“How … How much real estate?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “A lot. Mostly commercial properties.”
“So … how wealthy are you exactly? What … what exactly are we talking about here?”
“We’re, I think, fourth? Or maybe fifth now. I can’t remember.”
“Fourth or fifth what?”
“Forbes puts out a list of the wealthiest families in the state. I think last time, we were fourth. Or fifth.”
“The Delaney family is the fourth richest family in the state.”
“Or fifth, right. I don’t remember which.”
“I don’t … I can’t … Shit.” She was rubbing at her temples more vigorously now. It was as though the words he was saying were in some foreign language that was a lot like English but that lost some meaning in the translation.
“Sorry to lay all that on you. It’s a lot to take in, I know. But I didn’t want you to find out later and feel like I was keeping things from you.”
“But … but … nobody ever said anything. Nobody ever told me.”
“I’m not even sure they know. It’s not the kind of thing we talk about. And … you know. Do you think Jackson and Daniel read Forbes?”
“You don’t talk about it.” There she was with the repeating thing again.
He shrugged. “No. Not when I can avoid it.”
“But why?” She was struggling to make sense of this, of the revelation.
He cocked his head and looked at her, and there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite identify. “When people find out you’ve got money—more than a certain amount, I mean—then you become that to them. You become the money. You’re not a person anymore. You’re just … wealth.”
As he said it, she knew what it was she’d seen in his eyes. It was worry.
“You didn’t tell me because you were worried that I’d see you as wealth.”