Phone to her ear, she looked at him. “Are we staying there tonight?”
“No. We’re just stopping in to say hello.” The Mastersons probably had a full house. Roman wondered what kind of reception he’d get after so many years of avoiding this visit. He’d only seen Jasper because the man insisted on showing up periodically, invited or not. He hadn’t seen Chet and Susan since he aged out of the program at eighteen. They sent a Christmas card every December with a handwritten note inviting him to visit anytime. The door is always open. Roman figured it was merely a polite gesture. Why would they want to see him again?
Maybe stopping by was a bad idea.
“Anything wrong, Roman?”
How long had she been looking at him? “Everything’s fine.”
The old barn came into view as he rounded the curve of the narrow country road. Surprised, he saw the second mural he’d ever done still there, faded after so many years. The gates were open, Jasper’s blue Chevy parked in front of the house. On the porch, two German shepherds stood and barked. Roman remembered his first meeting with Starsky and Hutch nearly twenty years ago.
Starsky and Hutch must be long dead, but these two shepherds could be related.
Chet came outside and called out, “Be polite, boys.” The dogs’ demeanor changed to one of cautious greeting. A few sniffs at Roman, and they moved quickly to Grace. She held out her hand, and one licked her. The two dogs moved around her with wagging tails. Smiling, she stroked one, until the other nosed in for his turn.
Susan and Jasper joined Chet on the porch. Roman pushed down the rising tide of emotions. Of all the places he could have taken Grace, why had he brought her here? He should have kept driving, rather than risk what could—would—turn into something humiliating. Chet came down the steps. He still had a full head of hair, though now white. He walked slower, shoulders slightly stooped, body thinner. Susan, wearing jeans and a button-up plaid shirt, still had a blonde ponytail. She’d put on some weight, but they both looked good for sixty-plus years of age.
Roman held out his hand, but Chet pulled him into a bear hug. “It’s about time you came home!” Roman couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. Why hadn’t he come back? What excuse did he have to offer?
Chet let him go and slapped him on the back. “Look at you! You’re not a skinny kid anymore.”
Susan put her hands on her hips. “I should be mad at you for staying away so long.” Laughing, joyous, she threw her arms around Roman. When she drew back, she looked at Grace. “And who is this pretty lady? Your wife?”
Roman quickly dispelled that misconception. Smiling and relaxed, Grace shook hands with Chet and Susan. Jasper gave her a hug and kissed her cheek like they were longtime friends. The dogs stayed close to Grace. She scratched one behind the ears. If he’d been a cat, he would have purred.
“That one is DiNozzo.” Chet chuckled. “And I think he has a crush on you. The other is Gibbs.” He clicked his tongue, and the two dogs followed him to the house.
“Come on inside.” Susan waved everyone toward the house. “We have coffee, tea, lemonade.”
Roman looked around. The place was quiet, but there were horses in the corral. “You still keeping boys in line, Chet?”
“Off and on. Trying to ease ourselves into retirement. Sold off fifty acres and kept enough to give us plenty of open space. We still stable horses. Remember José?”
“The gang kid from Stockton? Yeah, I remember. He went into the military, didn’t he?”
“Served six years in the Marines, and came out a sergeant. He and his wife, Abbie, take care of the place now. He’s a good worker, a natural with the horses. Frees Susan and me up to travel when we don’t have any resident boys. We’re heading out again the end of the month. Spend some time in Yellowstone and then Glacier. How about you?”
Roman felt like they were picking up where they’d left off all those years ago, no time in between. He told Chet about traveling around Europe on Jasper’s advice. Grace walked a few feet ahead of him, in conversation with Jasper and Susan.
The living room had been redone with pale-beige carpeting. Wheat-colored couches replaced the brown leather, but they hadn’t buffed the wall he painted when he was seventeen.
“Yep. It’s still there.” Chet grinned. “That and the one on the barn are our claims to fame. ‘Roman Velasco’ lived here.”
Roman struggled with his emotions. “I thought you’d have developed better taste by now.”
After he’d painted the scenes Susan had asked for in the kitchen, Chet had offered the barn for his next project. Chet had set down a few rules: Whatever Roman painted had to be recognizable and reflect positively on Masterson Mountain Ranch. “When I approve the drawings, we’ll negotiate the price. I’ll buy whatever supplies you need. Take into consideration what you might have to pay a crew, if you need one. We’re going to draw up a contract, teach you how to do some business.”
The edgy simplicity of Roman’s stylized horses and cows grazing in a neon-green pasture had people stopping by to ask who did the mural. “A kid did that?” One rancher offered to hire Roman to paint his barn up the road. Jasper Hawley started teaching him how to put together business proposals. They studied costs and hours of labor and profit margins. Jasper took him to Wells Fargo to set up checking and savings accounts, taught him how to do his state and federal taxes. “If you’re going into business, you’d better get it right from the beginning.”
By the time Bobby Ray Dean earned his GED, Roman Velasco had five thousand dollars in savings and several more jobs lined up. All thanks to Chet and Susan and Jasper and their investment in a kid nobody else had time for.
“Come on into the kitchen.” Susan led the way, laughing over her shoulder. “We always end up in here anyway.”
Grace lingered, studying the living room mural. Roman put his hand against the small of her back, wanting to steer her away. “You don’t like my work, remember?”
“Who’s Sheila?”
Roman froze. “What?”
“Sheila. It’s right there. And Reaper.” She tilted her head. “White Boy.” She looked at him, perplexed. “And there’s a bird in flight in the corner. Or are those letters, too? BRD.”
“Bobby Ray Dean.” His heart pounded. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Jasper spoke from the archway leading to the kitchen. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem.” Roman glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll be with you in a minute.” He blocked Grace and lowered his voice. “Don’t say anything about the wall.” The mural had been there for years, but Roman doubted that Chet and Susan had ever seen what he’d painted in it. How was it Grace saw what he’d been so careful to hide?
Her eyes flickered in surprise, but she nodded.
The kitchen had been remodeled, too, the scenes of Italy he’d painted long gone and replaced by pale-yellow walls and white crown molding. Susan slid a prime rib into the top oven and announced dinner would be ready by six thirty.
“We’re only staying an hour or two.”
She gave him a look he remembered from his time living in this house. “You’re staying for dinner, and you’re spending the night.”
Roman could be stubborn, too. “We have a lot of road to cover.”
“Chet, go let the air out of his tires or kill the computer in that fancy car of his.”
“Or you could let him go.” Grace shrugged. “But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay.” She pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table.
The Mastersons laughed. Jasper grinned at Roman. “I think you’re outnumbered.”
Roman relaxed. “Okay, but don’t listen to these people. They don’t know me as well as they think they do.”
Susan and Chet launched into what a pain he’d been when he first came to the ranch. “Couldn’t get more than a growl out of him.”