Jackie Merritt - Wind River Ranch

“Sheila’s my mother-in-law, so you didn’t miss it by much. Actually all three Parks in the directory are related. But that’s beside the point, isn’t it? Getting back to Sheila, she’s not in the area right now. I’d be happy to take your number and have her call you when she returns.”

Disappointed, Dena pressed on. “Would it be possible for you to tell me where she is, and if she can be reached by telephone?”

The woman was still friendly, but Dena noticed that a bit of reserve had entered her voice when she said, “Sheila’s on vacation. Who did you say you are?”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t say. My name is Dena Colby, and it’s really Mr. Chandler I need to speak to. I called his office and apparently he, too, is on vacation. Do you know where he went, by any chance? I wouldn’t be bothering anyone about this if it wasn’t extremely important. You see, Mr. Chandler is...was my father’s attorney, and Dad...passed away quite...suddenly.” It was so difficult to say, and Dena hadn’t thought of that in advance. She cleared her throat and continued. “I really need to talk to Mr. Chandler about...well, several things.”

“Please accept my condolences, Ms. Colby. I believe Sheila mentioned John and his wife vacationing in England. As far as reaching Sheila, she and Doug, my father-in-law, are traveling in their motor home. They could be almost anywhere, although they did talk about exploring the New England states. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but that’s really all I know. Oh, except that they’ll be back soon. Shall I ask Sheila to call you when she gets home?”

Dena thought a moment. “No, that won’t be necessary. Mr. Chandler will be back on the fifteenth, and I’ll wait and talk to him. Thank you for speaking to me.”

“You’re quite welcome. You said your last name is Colby. I just remembered reading Simon Colby’s obituary. Is he your father?”

“Yes. Goodbye, Mrs. Parks.” Dena put the phone down before Mrs. Parks could get in any more questions. Dena appreciated the woman’s friendliness and trust, but the conversation had started getting uncomfortably personal.

She sighed heavily. Merciful God, how was she going to cope with it all?

But it wasn’t a matter of merely coping as far as the ranch went, was it? No one could pay bills or write payroll checks. That was much more than an emotional upheaval. And what about supplies? Groceries?

Too worried to sit still, Dena left the office to find Nettie. The housekeeper was still in the kitchen.

“Nettie,” Dena said, walking in. “I’m afraid we have a real problem. How are you fixed for groceries?”

Nettie looked at her with some surprise. “Land sakes, honey, you had me alarmed for a second. The cupboards, freezer and pantry are loaded with groceries. Why would you think that’s a problem?”

“Because no one on the place can sign checks.”

“Oh. Well, everyone will still have plenty to eat. You see, when I run short of supplies I drive to town and shop at Whitman’s Food Mart. Simon arranged a charge account with Whitman’s, so I wouldn’t have to bother him about kitchen money. Land sakes, it’s been that way for years and years. Don’t you remember?”

“No, I don’t remember.” She still didn’t. It hurt to think how self-centered she’d been in her teens, but facts were facts. Small wonder she and Simon had butted heads so often.

Dena rubbed the back of her neck. “Is there anything you’d like me to do, Nettie?”

“You mean help with the cooking?”

“Or anything else.”

“No, honey. Don’t concern yourself with the household chores. You have enough on your mind.”

“I also have a splitting headache. I think I’ll lie down for an hour or so.”

“You go right ahead and do that.”

Dena went to her bathroom, swallowed two over-the-counter headache pills with a drink of water, then continued on to her bedroom. Lying on her bed, she closed her eyes and slept.

The next morning Dena didn’t even wonder if she would get through the funeral without falling apart. That soothing numbness had returned in the night, and she showered, dressed and ate a light breakfast on automatic pilot.

As she’d suspected, hordes of people attended the service. She had told the funeral director to make it as short and emotionless as possible. No singing, she’d said adamantly. No sad songs or eulogies. Simon Colby would not have wanted an emotion-filled service, with people weeping their hearts out because of soul-wrenching music, and neither did she.

To her chagrin, most of the attendees reconvened at the ranch to eat and talk about Simon. Everyone that came brought something, a cake, a casserole, a ham. It all passed in a blur for Dena, except for a few stand-out incidents. For one, she could hardly believe her eyes when Tommy was suddenly standing before her.

“Hello, Dena. Sorry about your dad, even if the old guy did give you and me a hard time.”

She stared at the man to whom she’d once been married. Tommy was as handsome as ever, reeked of cologne and looked prosperous. But she would bet anything that he had either borrowed the money for the new clothes he was wearing, or he’d charged them. In her experience, Tommy had never set a dollar aside for an emergency, and she couldn’t believe that irresponsible trait had evolved into thriftiness during her absence. What if she hadn’t had a savings account when the call came about Simon’s death? How would she have paid for her flight home?

“Hello, Tommy,” she said, while marveling that she had once believed herself to be madly in love with this man. Of course, in those days she hadn’t known that a handsome face was Tommy’s one and only asset. In fact, looking at him now, she felt pity. It was an impersonal pity and in no way touched her soul. But it was sad that he had no ambition to better himself. She would be surprised if he even had a steady job.

He grinned at her, that cute grin that used to give her goose bumps. “You’re looking good.”

She smirked because she couldn’t look worse if she’d tried. Oh, her black dress was attractive and her hair was nicely arranged, but her face was puffy and the tastefully small amount of makeup she had put on this morning was long gone.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said. Recalling his initial remark about Simon giving them a hard time, she added, “Especially in light of your dislike of Dad.”

“Hey, you didn’t like him very much, either. And you had good reason. We both did. If he would have shelled out a few bucks when we needed it, we might still be married.”

“It was not his place to ‘shell out a few bucks,’ Tommy. And if you care to remember, we always needed money. What did you expect him to do, give us a weekly paycheck? If you have the gall to blame Dad for the breakup of our marriage, don’t tell me about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

She wound her way through the crowd, stopping briefly to accept condolences and words of sympathy, some of which she appreciated as they were from old friends of her father’s, neighboring ranchers, for instance. Eventually she reached the other side of the room. She was glad to see Tommy leaving through the front door, and wondered why he had bothered to get all dressed up and attend the funeral of a man he’d despised. Surely he hadn’t supposed she would be thrilled to see him. And how dare he make derogatory remarks about Simon, today of all days?

Had Tommy married her because he’d thought her father would support him? What a ghastly idea that was, but it probably should have occurred to her before this.

Still, it was water under the bridge and totally immaterial to not only today’s events but to her life in general. She really had no feelings at all for Tommy. There were memories, of course, some good, some bad, but feelings? No, there were none within her.