A Second-Chance Proposal

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The words themselves were strident, but they lost their effect when delivered in Rose’s wavering voice.

“Rose, you do seem a little weak,” Cathleen said. “Would you like us to help you back to bed?”

“Of course not. Please stop this. I hate fussing.” She squinted, making Dylan wonder if the moisture he’d seen over her eyes was really early-stage cataracts. “Is that you, Cathleen Shannon? What in the world are you doing here?”

Cathleen eyed him quickly before answering. “I’ve been meaning to drop by for a visit. You don’t get out much anymore. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen you since—”

Rose blinked rapidly. “You’re right. I don’t go out anymore. How can I?” She focused on Dylan. “A mother has to take responsibility for how her children turn out.”

A sickening mixture of guilt and anger twisted Dylan’s gut. His mother had become a recluse because of him? Instinctively his hands curled into fists, but there was no one to fight. A good strong left couldn’t touch public opinion.

“Can we just sit down and talk for a minute?” Cathleen suggested.

It was a good idea, but where? Glancing around, he couldn’t see a place to get comfortable. All the rooms looked formal and pristine. “Maybe in the kitchen?”

In the old days, when his father was alive, his family had practically lived around the old oak table that had sat by the window overlooking the east pasture. Following Rose to the back of the house, he wasn’t surprised to see a new wrought-iron set in the showpiece kitchen. The entire room was beyond what he could’ve imagined. Custom cherry cabinetry, beautiful marble countertops and restaurant-quality stainless steel appliances all vied for attention in the large space.

“Please sit down.” A trace of Rose’s old hospitality surfaced as she beckoned them to the thickly cushioned chairs.

“How about I put on the kettle for some tea,” Cathleen offered.

“Good idea,” Dylan said. “Maybe I can find some crackers and cheese to go with that.” His mother was so frail he wondered if she ever ate. She used to have a good appetite, a love of delicious food. He went to the built-in fridge and saw no shortage of supplies. He picked out a nice hunk of Brie.

“No!” his mother said. “That’s for Max. He likes it with a glass of wine after dinner.”

Oh really? Dylan eyed the trash compactor, but Cathleen snatched the cheese from his hands before he dared. She returned the Brie to the fridge and substituted Cheddar.

He pulled himself together. It was only cheese, after all. Crackers were in the pantry next to the fridge. While Cathleen prepared the tea, he sliced the cheddar and placed it on a plate with the Wheat Thins.

His mother was staring out the window, holding the cat, stroking her compulsively. For a second Dylan had the uncomfortable feeling that she wasn’t quite there mentally. And then abruptly, she focused on him, with eyes suddenly bright and alert.

“Why’d you come back, Dylan?”

“Cathleen asked me the same question last night. I’m beginning to think no one wants me.”

“Really? You’re so sensitive,” Cathleen muttered.

“It was safer when you were gone,” Rose added.

“They aren’t going to arrest me, Mom,” he said, then realized that wasn’t what she’d meant. “For Max, you mean?”

During his extended stay at the hospital in Reno, it had occurred to him that his departure from Canmore had been very convenient for Max. With Dylan gone, Max had full control. Of the ranch, the money…and Rose.

His mother’s expression started to turn blank again, as if she’d decided to opt out of the conversation. Cathleen reached for the woman’s pale hand and changed the subject. She brought Rose up-to-date with news about former neighbors, then the results of a recent fund-raiser given by the horticultural society.

Gradually, Rose began to relax. A couple of times she even smiled. How could she not, with Cathleen’s outrageous stories? Dylan wondered if she was just making them up, then decided it didn’t really matter. Just hearing her talk was enough. For his mother, anyway.

Him, he wanted more. But given Cathleen’s frosty attitude, it was hard to believe that there had once been a time when she’d returned his smiles and welcomed his touches. Now those days felt as distant as something he’d read about in a book or seen in a movie.

Cathleen had poured his tea black and strong, just the way he liked it. He took a sip, then focused on his mother. Cathleen was chatting on about an editorial she must have read in the local paper that week. There was a spark of pleasure in Rose’s eyes as she listened. Dylan wondered what else brightened his mother’s days. Her cat, obviously. But were there any people she still connected with? Friends from the old days?

Not likely, since she didn’t seem to have heard any of the news Cathleen was telling her.

Rose took a sip of her tea and nodded at something Cathleen said. Gradually, she let her gaze slide over to her son. Seeing the resulting frown didn’t make him feel very good.

He couldn’t stop himself from bringing up the subject again. “You know I didn’t hurt Jilly, don’t you, Mom?”

For a moment he caught a glimpse of something soft and warm. The woman who had read him stories and baked him cookies and kissed his scraped knees was still inside there. But almost as soon as the softening happened, it disappeared. His mother’s gaze became vague again, and her mouth tightened with anxiety.

“You shouldn’t have caused trouble for Max,” she said. “If only you could have left well enough alone.”

“Max is the one causing the problems. Dad would never have allowed those wells to be drilled on the Bar M.”

“Your father isn’t here anymore.”

No. He sure as hell wasn’t. “What’s going on with the ranch?”

She shook her head.

“I heard you hired Danny Mizzoni to look after it.”

“The mayor of Canmore ought to live in town,” Rose said weakly.

Cathleen’s glance showed the same concern he felt. His mother was talking like a robot. And he sure as hell knew who’d programmed her.

“The ranch isn’t even being operated anymore, is it?” Dylan tried not to sound bitter, but the news he’d heard from both Jake and Cathleen sickened him to the core. Apparently the herd had been sold, as well as most of the equipment.

“It’s for the best.”

He ignored Cathleen’s restraining hand on his arm. “I’d like to know what Dad—”

“Your father is dead. Max is the head of this family now.”

She couldn’t have said anything that would have infuriated him more. “Max has nothing to do with me. And he doesn’t have any business making decisions that concern my land.”

“It’s not your land, Dylan.”

“I’m a McLean, aren’t I? You know Dad meant for me and Jake to own the ranch one day.”

Rose tightened her lips. “When I heard about Jilly, I redid my will. After I die, everything goes to Max. And when he dies, it passes on to James.”

Dylan heard Cathleen gasp. “You can’t mean that…” He sputtered and grabbed tight to the hand that had just reached out to him. Cathleen’s hand.

“Mother, that land means everything to me. If you want to give half to the Strongmans and the rest to me and Jake, I’m willing to talk about that. But you can’t cut us out completely.”

It couldn’t be legal, could it? If only his father had bequeathed the land directly to him! But his dad’s simple will had left everything to his wife, on the understanding that she would pass the land on to Dylan and Jake when it was her turn to go. It had sounded simple enough when his father had sat the three of them around the kitchen table to discuss it. Of course his father could never have anticipated Max Strongman entering their lives.

“I need to have that ranch,” he told his mother now. “It’s my birthright.”