One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(27)
His expression turned haunted. He broke eye contact with her and put his back into a stroke that sent the boat toward the far shore, the opposite direction of the dock. They were not headed back to shore as Emily had assumed. Knox pulled through another strong stroke and then another, turning them toward the bend in the lake, navigating the curve of the kidney bean-shaped lake.
She might have asked about where they were going, but she dared not interrupt his thoughts before he answered her question. Could it be that his father hadn’t told him the reason behind the rift, the same way that Ty hadn’t told his children? Would it be a secret that Ty and Granny June would take to their graves the way Clint and Tyson had? That was, if Granny June knew. In all the mentions of the rift that Emily had heard, never once was Granny June mentioned. Knowing her as well as Emily did, Emily seriously doubted Granny June supported Clint’s exile.
But then why, all these years after Tyson’s death, hadn’t Granny June invited Clint and his family back into the fold?
“I do know the reasons,” Knox said. “I mean, I thought I did. I thought it was about control of the resort’s vision and who my grandfather’s successor would be. But Granny June and Ty have said some things that don’t jive with what my dad told me.”
Knox’s paddling took on a distracted quality, a rote movement to keep his body busy while his mind worked out the problem. Every stroke brought with it the sound of tinkling water and a fresh swirl of perfumed air, herbal and earthy. Emily watched her breath make a little cloud with each exhalation.
Emily made a point of relaxing back onto the bench and tipping her head to the side, inviting him to open up. “Like what kinds of things have Ty and Granny June said?”
At the question, Knox’s even paddle strokes faltered. He shook his head. “Just … I don’t know. They made it sound like it was about more than the business, but I can’t imagine what else there could be that would be worth severing family ties like that.”
Emily knew firsthand about the kinds of things that could make a person sever ties with their family, but none of them applied to the Briscoes. Other than the rift and Haylie’s poor choice in husband, the family was stable and normal … boring, even.
She fixed her eyes on Knox, studying, learning. “What’s your mom like?” she asked.
“My mom?”
“Yes. Does she still live in Hutchins, where you grew up?”
He seemed surprised that she knew that.
“I do my research,” she added quietly.
“Yeah, she still lives in the Hutchins house, even though it’s way too big for her needs now.”
“Alone, or does she have someone new in her life?” Research had provided the answer to that question, but she wasn’t asking because she wanted to know more about Knox’s mother. She fixed her eyes on Knox, studying, learning.
His eyes lightened at the question. “Sometimes I wonder if she’s seeing anyone, a nice man from church or the neighborhood. I hope she’s out having fun, for her sake. She would never admit it to me and my siblings, though. I think, out of a misguided notion of respect for us kids’ memory of my dad.”
“Your father’s been gone three years. That’s a lifetime to some. But your dad’s still very much on your mind, especially now that you’re working at Briscoe Ranch.”
“That’s true. He is on my mind a lot. In a good way. Sometimes that three years feels like a lifetime, and others, it feels like yesterday. It’s a hell of a thing, losing the person you loved and idolized most in this world.”
“It doesn’t sound like he’s lost. It sounds to me like he’s still watching over you.”
Knox rolled his eyes heavenward, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “That’s a very good point.”
Emily couldn’t tear her eyes from Knox and the fascinating play of emotions on his features. It was as though being on the water had completely disarmed him.
Seemingly unaware of Emily’s focused gaze, Knox once again fixed his attention on the business of rowing. Not long after that, he skimmed an oar in the water, turning the boat. He nodded toward the shore. “Oh, wow. Look.”
Emily had been so focused on their conversation that she was surprised to see that their little boat had rounded the bend in the lake. Briscoe Ranch in all its glory sat before them, rising up from the lakefront golf course like a castle on a hill. Lights blazed from the balconies and rooftops. The unlit golf course sloped down to the lake’s edge. She followed the snaking trail of lights demarcating the pathways through the golf course and meandering to the main building. And there was the stable, its main arena lit with floodlights. She stared for a long time at the chapel on the hill behind the resort, the beating heart of the Briscoes’ empire.
She often fought against complacency about her good fortune to wind up in such a beautiful, safe place as Briscoe Ranch. She fought not to take the fresh air and the sense of community for granted. It was stunning, all the many ways being homeless had scarred her, even now, after years of comfortable living and regular meals and career success.
Over the years, she’d gradually learned to trust that such luxuries would last, and that she didn’t need to be so hyper-vigilant about her safety. She caught herself opting not to bask in every single sunset or smell every rose she encountered, secure in the knowledge that there would be another beautiful sunset the next day, more roses, more beauty.