Last Chance Llama Ranch (31 page)

Dolly's chest heaved.

“You know. Like a dude ranch.”

Dolly's eyes grew wide as saucers.

“Like that movie
City Slickers
,” he added helpfully.

Merry stepped in before the man could lose an eye. “Listen, Mr.…”

“Watts. Cyril Watts.”

“Mr. Watts. I think you're barking up the wrong tree here. Mrs. Cassidy runs a small fiber farm and llama rescue. It's not set up for large groups of guests. What would some big corporation want with it?”

“Well, Ms. Manning…you are Merry Manning, aren't you? The writer?”

Merry nodded tightly.

“I thought you must be. Can't be too many women fitting your description, I imagine. As it happens, it's actually your reporting that caught the eye of our company's morale manager. Your”—he looked down at the paper again, clearly reading from a script—“charming blog about Aguas Milagros made management think it would be the perfect spot for our retreat center. With a few tweaks, naturally.”

“Tweaks?!”

The man's gaze darted back and forth between the two women, settling on Dolly as the more outraged of the two. “We'd be open to the possibility of you staying on, Mrs. Cassidy, in some capacity. Perhaps as a hostess, or an animal consultant—”

“Animal consultant?!”

“It's all laid out here, in our proposal. The buyout offer, the terms and conditions.” Watts waved a binder with a glossy cover embossed with the corporation's logo and the phrase, “M.E. and You: A Winning Combination.”

“Maybe you should give Mrs. Cassidy a minute here, to digest what you're saying,” Merry suggested. “It's a bit of a shock for her—”

“‘Shock' ain't the word I'd use,” Dolly muttered, glaring at her not-so-ex-husband and Mr. Watts with equal venom.

“—And obviously, she'll need a little time. Why don't you leave your proposal with her, and she'll look it over when she's ready.”

“I ain't
ever
going to be ready for no ‘dude ranch,'” Dolly growled.

“Ready or not, woman, this is happening,” John warned her, crowding in front of the lawyer and wagging a finger in her face. “No way I'm letting you get in the way of my payout.”

“I knew you were a weasel, John Dixon, but this is beyond even your usual capacity for callousness! Never mind what you'd be doing to me and Sam, kicking us out of our only home. What'll happen to the animals?”

John didn't look any too worried. He waved a casual hand. “They said they'd provide for 'em.”

“Like hell. Some of our llamas are so far out to pasture they need bifocals just to spit at you. You think some money-grubbing corporate hack won't look at them and say, ‘bad for the bottom line,' and send 'em off to slaughter?”

“That ain't my problem, Dorothy. No one asked you to encumber yourself with a lot of broken-down beasts that ain't good for anything but burning hay. It'll be a mercy on most of 'em anyhow.”

“I'll show
you
mercy!” Dolly made as if to charge her ex, but Merry wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her down.

“Perhaps Ms. Manning is right, Mr. Dixon,” said the lawyer, putting a nervous hand on John's denim-clad arm as well. “We've presented the proposal. I'm sure your wife is a reasonable woman—”

“Ha!” scoffed John.

“—and she'll see what a great opportunity this is, given time.”

“Not too much time,” John said. “How long did you say this offer was on the table, Twat?”

“It's
Watts
, Mr. Dixon.” The lawyer looked pained.

“That's what I said. How long before she's gotta get off her high horse and sign the papers?”

“We'd like to set the wheels in motion before the holiday season. So by Thanksgiving, let's say.”

“How's
never
work for you? Because that's when I'll roll over and show my belly to you, John Dixon!”

John swiped his hat off his head and slapped it against his thigh. “You won't sign? Fine. I'll just stay at the ranch until you see reason.”

“I'll see you six feet under before you step foot over my threshold!”

“It's my property as much as yours, woman. I got every right. Ask as many lawyers as you want. I can outstubborn you any day of the week, and you know it. Unless…” He stroked his mustache again. “Unless you got the money yourself to pay me as much as they're offering. In that case, you'll see the back of me, fast as you like.”

Dolly looked sick. Her bravado wavered. “How…how much did you say it was?”

Watts stepped forward. “We're prepared to offer four hundred thousand. That includes everything on the ranch. Animals, structures. Of course, they'll want to demolish the main house and build something more suitable for their important guests.”

Dolly gasped. “That hacienda's near two hundred years old! Chief Manuelito stayed there during the Indian Wars! You can't just come with a bulldozer and knock it down!”

“It's not up to me, Mrs. Cassidy.” The lawyer shrugged. “But I'm sure any historically significant items will be properly preserved.”

Dolly didn't look sure. She looked furious.

“And if I fight it?”

“That's your right, of course. If you and your husband—”

“
Ex
-husband!”

“Yes, of course. If you and Mr. Dixon cannot come to an agreement as to the disposal of the property, that will be for the courts to sort out. Massive Euphemistics takes no stand on personal matters. But I do believe that a costly legal battle is not in anyone's best interests. Such a case could take years to wind its way through the judicial system. Of course by then M.E. would have rescinded its offer. Right now management is very excited to take advantage of the word-of-mouth provided by Ms. Manning's articles, so we're willing to offer far above market price for the ranch. But years from now, without a buyer like us…well, it's very likely that the actual value of the ranch would have been eaten up by the cost of legal representation.”

“So if he wants to sell, but I don't…”

“Both of you lose. Yes.”

Dolly had gone pale. So, for that matter, had Merry. Seeing her friend so cornered made her want to do battle on the older woman's behalf. Yet it was her own fault that this battle had come to Dolly's door.

“Try to see this in a positive light, Mrs. Cassidy. We really believe it'll be a net gain for the economy of your little town,” Watts said. “In previous acquisitions, we've found that once we establish a presence in an area, all the amenities of civilization soon follow. Highways, Walmarts, Olive Garden restaurants. That sort of thing.”

Dolly wavered on her feet. Merry felt a surge of nausea. She'd wanted to help bring commerce to Aguas Milagros, but not at the cost of the town's very soul. Bob, Jane, the hookers…and especially Steve and Mazel…There'd be no place for them in such a sterilized, strip-mall cultural wasteland. They'd hate it…and worse, they'd hate
her
for bringing it down on their heads.

And Sam? Merry couldn't bear to think of his reaction.

“Admit when you're licked,” John said, settling his hat back on his head. “Take the buyout, or I'll take you to court for what's left of your golden years, and you'll end up with nothing.”

Dolly snatched the proposal out of Watts's hands. “I'll look it over,” she said grudgingly. “Now both of you, get out of my sight before I lose my lunch.”

“I'll be back for your answer by Thanksgiving, woman. If you ain't got the money to buy me out by then, we're taking the offer from these Eugenics people—”

“
Euphemistics
, Mr. Dixon—”

“That's what I said, Twat.” He turned to go, then shot over his shoulder. “'Less you got the cash, we're taking the offer, and that's that!”

Merry led Dolly to a folding chair at the rear of the booth, putting the cross-stitched “Back in Five Minutes” sign out on the counter. She patted the older woman's shoulder, as if that would make it all okay. “I'm so sorry, Dolly,” she said, and once she said it, she couldn't
stop
saying it.

Eventually, Dolly's expression went from empathetic to exasperated. “What're you sorry for? You ain't my evil ex. And it wasn't you who dropped the ball on the divorce settlement. It was me who let things lie instead of checking to see that scorpion didn't sting me on his way out the door.”

“But he wouldn't be here now if it weren't for me! Massive whatever-the-hell wouldn't be interested in the ranch. Everything would be just the way it's always been.”

“And everything hasn't always been rosy either,” Dolly said. “I haven't liked to say, but…well, the truth is, we're not ‘just scraping by' like I claimed earlier. We ain't scraping by hardly at all.” She took a kerchief from her pocket and swiped at her sweating face. “I haven't even told Sam this yet, but the fact is, the Last Chance is about two mortgage payments away from kickin' the bucket.”

“Oh, Dolly,” Merry said. “And you've been carrying around this burden on your own all this time?”

“I don't like to worry folks,” she said tiredly. “Once, I might've talked it over with Bob, but he and I don't see eye to eye anymore. Besides,” she said with more asperity, “it's half his fault I'm in this mess, what with his orphaned-llamas-on-the-doorstep bait-and-switch.”

Merry got the feeling this was more a source of sorrow for Dolly than she let on.
They would make a great couple
, she thought, if only Dolly could see her way clear to forgiving the man. But while Dolly might not forgive Bob, she was going all too light on Merry. “I'm so sorry, Dolly. I never should have come. First I couldn't do the work properly, and now my very presence is endangering everything you and Sam have worked for all these years.”

“Child, I hate to break it to you, but you ain't
that
influential. Something always comes along to rock the boat, if you float down the stream long enough. If it ain't one thing, it's another.”

In my case
, Merry thought,
if it isn't one thing, it's my mother
. “Yes, but…”

“Child,
stop
. Right now, I ain't got the energy to comfort you
and
deal with this nasty business. So, if you really want to help, take your head out of your rear and help me come up with a solution.”

Merry reeled as if slapped.
God, she's right. What a time to make everything all about me. Dolly doesn't need mea culpas. She needs
help. “I'm so—”

“Say sorry one more time, child, and I'll set Snape on you,” Dolly warned, but she patted Merry's cheek to soothe the sting. “Put on your thinking cap and help me figure out what I'm gonna do so John doesn't go smirking all the way to the bank and leave me without a ranch.”

Right. Get a hold of yourself, woman
. A thought occurred to Merry. “Are you sure you actually
do
want to head this off?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, maybe this isn't all bad. You did mention you wanted to take some time off; travel the world. Might this not be your chance?” Merry asked hesitantly. “I mean, your half of the buyout would be two hundred grand, and that kind of money buys a whole lot of suitcases.”

Dolly sighed. “It's a great flight of fancy. I've got a stack of brochures a foot thick, full of places I've wanted to see. Only, who'd look after the fluffies? That stuffed shirt?” She waved in the direction the lawyer had vamoosed. “Some fool from back east who doesn't know his alfalfa from his fanny?” Dolly shook her head. “And what about Sam? This is his home too. Where's he supposed to go, if I sell out?”

Merry couldn't imagine Sam happy anywhere else on the planet. Maybe he hadn't grown up here—his mysterious past on Wall Street still seemed unimaginable to her—but caring for his llamas, hanging out in his homemade hobbit hole—this was where Sam belonged.

This is my fault
, she thought.
There's no two ways about it. I brought these creeps down on them with my column. Like Sam said, I don't think about the consequences of my actions, or take responsibility for the fallout. That's got to change.
She swallowed hard.

“What if—hypothetically now—what if someone else
did
come along with a better offer? Enough to pay off your ex-husband, more than those Massive assholes were proposing?”

Dolly sighed. “Like who? I ain't exactly been fending off buyout offers with a stick. Nobody's gonna pay as much as them for a struggling ranch in the back of beyond, no matter how charming it sounds when you write about it. Anyhow, I'd still have the same problem. Someone needs to look after the animals, and nobody takes in llamas these days. They'd all be for the slaughter, if I didn't give 'em shelter. Plus, me and Sam still need shelter ourselves.”

“What if you didn't have to leave? If the new owner wanted you to stay on, and run it just like you always have? Like, they'd just be a silent partner or something.”

“And who would that new owner be—hypothetically?”

Merry took a deep breath. “Me.”

A
n eyeball squinted at Merry from the Skype screen. It was bloodshot, but otherwise an excellent example of male pulchritude. “Squatchy?” It blinked. “Do you know what time it is here?”

Merry didn't even know where “here” was for Marcus. He could be anywhere from Brazil to Bombay, for all she knew. “No idea. Do you?”

Marcus adjusted his phone, effortlessly finding a flattering angle that allowed Merry to see that he was lying on a rumpled bed, which looked to contain several other sleeping occupants. “Cute,” he said, ruffling his hair up with one hand and making himself look even more like he'd just tumbled out of a Calvin Klein ad. “So what's up?”

Merry swallowed, suddenly missing her brother fiercely. “I think I'm coming home, Uglymug.”

“For T-day?” Marcus stretched elaborately, pulling his white tee shirt taut over his tanned torso. “Cool!”

“No, I mean, for good. Or ill.” She waved irritably. “You know what I mean. Permanently.”

“You're kidding! What about all that ‘My turtle and I would rather starve in our garret' stuff you were spouting a few weeks ago?”

“Well, it's not just me in danger of starving anymore. It's Dolly, and it's my fault.” Quickly, Merry sketched out what had happened, watching her brother's face as it ran the gamut of reactions from sympathetic, to scandalized, then back to worried. “So, I was thinking, if I made peace with Mother, she'd give me my inheritance, and I'd have enough to buy the ranch away from Dolly's husband, so she'd own it free and clear.”

“And Mother would own
you
,” Marcus pointed out.

“I know.” Merry nibbled a hangnail, then remembered that she'd spent her morning handling barnyard animals.
Won't be too much of that in my future if I run back to Mother
, she thought. The realization hurt, despite the prospect of being permanently poop free. “But what choice do I have? I can't let Dolly's life be ruined. Nor her animals. Not even Sam. They've done nothing wrong, and this would be catastrophic for them.”

Marcus looked skeptical. “Well, that's super noble of you and all, Squatchy, but are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“I'm sure it's the
right
thing to do. I'm just not sure if I can bear to
do
it.”

One of the other bodies in the bed began to stir. A hand crept out of the sheets and began to caress Marcus's pecs. There was more rustling, and another hand joined it—wearing, Merry saw, a different color nail polish. Marcus casually plucked the hands away, but a third—this one distinctly masculine—began to fondle his ear. He ignored it. “Well, don't be too hasty, Little Sis. This is a big decision. I'd hate to see you do something you'll regret for the rest of your life.”

“Wow, Banana Hammock, you almost sounded sincere for a minute there. Don't hurt yourself.”

He smiled, unoffended. “Well, you know how
I
handle the situation with the 'rents.” He held up his wrist, from which dangled a stunning white-gold Rolex. “Might as well be golden handcuffs,” he admitted. “But then again, a bit of bondage never really bothered me. You…” His expression grew more serious than was his wont. “You've always had more character than I do. You stand up to them—stand up for what matters to you. Don't give that independence away unless you're really sure you won't regret it.”

Merry's eyes welled, and she sniffled. “Roger that, Uglymug. And thanks for listening. I love you.”

“I love you too, Squatchy. You'll be fine, whatever you decide to do.”

One of the hands groped for Marcus's phone, snatched it from his grasp, and tossed it across the room. The sounds of squealing, romping, and gasping ensued.

Merry left him to it.

Merry trudged back to Dolly's booth as if she were walking the green mile to the electric chair. Her steps were resolute, and if there was any hitch in her gait, she told herself it was just her bum leg, and not the psychic shackles she could already feel clamping around her ankles. She plastered a smile on her face as she approached the older woman, hoping to hide the heaviness in her heart.

“Jesus H. Christ on a buttered biscuit, child. Who crapped in your cornflakes?”

Guess that worked out well.
Merry smiled wryly. “Thanks for giving me some time to make that call, Dolly. I just had to check in with someone back home before I could fully commit.”

“And now that you have?”

“I'm standing by my offer.” Merry plunked her hands on her hips and took the plunge. “Dorothy Cassidy, I'd like to buy your ranch.”

Dolly stroked her hand across the back of the nearest alpaca—Ginger Rogers, if Merry remembered right. The alpaca telescoped its long neck to give her a nose bump, and Dolly rubbed its face fondly. “Well, hon, that's nice to know. But I ain't selling.”

“What? Why?”

“You haven't said much about your situation back home, but I'm assuming that death-sentence look on your face has a little something to do with that. What aren't you telling me? Where are you getting the money? I thought you said you were broke?”

“Well, I am…and I'm not,” Merry hedged.

“Usually it's one or the other,” Dolly said drily. “'Less you're one of Bob's philosopher cats.”

Merry sighed. “Well, I'm broke if I want to live life on my own terms, and I'm, er…rather well off if I want to go along with Mother's ideas of how a Hollingsworth Manning ought to comport herself.”

“Uh-huh. And exactly how well off is ‘rather well off'?” Dolly asked.

Merry named a figure.

Dolly whistled. “You know how many ranches you could buy for that kinda money? Hell, you could have the whole town and half the inhabitants of Aguas Milagros for that much scratch.”

Merry looked away, uncomfortable. “So you see, it really wouldn't be so much of a hardship for me to be your silent partner, while you continued to run the ranch as always. Of course, I'd probably rarely get to see it, if ever, since I'd be so busy with Mother's foundation…But still, it's not going to break the bank, if you know what I mean.”

“Maybe not, but it
would
break your spirit, wouldn't it, child?”

Merry blinked and breathed hard.
Don't cry. Don't cry.
“I don't know what you mean.”

“Sure you do. You got access to all that dough, and you're running so hard from it you land up on some crazy lady's llama ranch half a world away from your family? Something bad's got to be attached to it, to set you against it so hard.”

“Not bad, so much…just…”

Banal. Phony.
Soul killing
.

Merry shrugged, not wanting Dolly to see she'd hit the target dead-on. “It's not so bad, honestly. Mother might have certain expectations for what I do with my life from now on”—
demands
were more like it—“but I know she'd let me do this for you at least. Honestly, it's a drop in the bucket for her, and if it would stop me from ‘airing our family's dirty laundry all over the Internet,' she'd consider it a small price to pay.”

“But it's not a small price for you to pay,” Dolly said shrewdly. “It's everything.”

“The Last Chance is everything to
you
,” Merry pointed out.

“Yes. It is. I won't deny it. But here's the thing, child. The Last Chance is where people go to find refuge, a place to belong, not to give up hope. Not to roll over and let others run their lives.” She stared up at Merry, her eyes fierce. “Running home to Mama? The way I see it, that's the
easy
way out. And I'm not going to let you take the easy way out. What I want is for you to find your
own
way. A way that doesn't do disservice to the things this ranch stands for, and that you and I can both live with. So no, I won't take your money, Merry Manning. But I will take what you're best at.”

Merry found herself snuffling back a sob. “What's that?”

“Inspiring others.”

Merry's mouth gaped open. “Um, Dolly…have you
met
me?”

“Yeah. I have. And here's what I see when I look at you. I see a woman who never quits. Who never lets hardship slow her down. You take your licks and you hop back up, Merry. I've seen it. Jane's seen it. Sam's seen it, whether or not he likes to admit it. Your grit's why your fans tune in, not for flowery language or a laugh once in a while. They're
rooting
for you, Merry. And so am I. I know you'll find another way to help me save this ranch.”

Merry let her tears slide freely down her face. In her mind's eye, she could see her coach Jimby smiling and pointing finger guns at Dolly, as if to say, “Listen to this lady; she knows what's what.”

“I won't let you down, Dolly. I don't know how, but I'm going to find us a way out of this.”

Dolly patted her arm. “First go find us some chocolate. We can't be expected to brainstorm a way outta this shitstorm without sugar.”