Thankful For You

His aunt stopped next by her husband’s side. She put her free hand on her husband’s shoulder—Nick remembered how affectionate his aunt and uncle were with each other and it was nice to see that, like many things at Bent Tree, that hadn’t changed either.

“Why don’t you and Nick go have a chat while I get things ready for dessert?” he heard his aunt suggest quietly.

The expression on Uncle Hank’s long face, a face that resembled Nick’s father’s in so many ways, shifted from satisfied to annoyed.

“I already had it in the works, woman. You don’t have ta keep remindin’ me like I’m Little Johnny who can’t tie his own shoes without help. You manage your business and I’ll handle mine.”

Aunt Barb didn’t appear the least bit bothered by her husband’s sharp comment. She just smiled, gave Hank a quick peck on the cheek and then took his plate over to the sink.

Nick could feel his uncle’s eyes on him; he had been trying to get Uncle Hank alone to discuss Lightning Rock, but Hank wasn’t interested in opening up a dialogue. He was reminded of the phrase “be careful what you wish for” because the idea of sitting down with his uncle was making him anxious in a way that he didn’t normally feel. But this was Uncle Hank—a man he’d idolized all his life—and he was talking about the one thing that his uncle loved only second to his family—Bent Tree Ranch.

His uncle balled up his napkin, dropped it on his plate, pushed back roughly from the table and stood up. Uncle Hank was a tall, slender man; the deep crevices around his eyes, on his forehead and around his mouth bespoke of a life lived in the sun. Even though he was eventually going to turn the operations of Bent Tree over to his middle son, Tyler, one day, Hank Brand appeared to be far from retirement.

Nick met his uncle Hank’s eyes; his uncle, without a word, gestured with his hand for Nick to get up and follow him. Nick wiped his mouth with his napkin before he stood up.

“Hey,” Taylor, always the mother of the siblings, said, “he’s dad’s brother – be respectful.”

Instead of addressing Taylor’s worry that he didn’t have full control of the temper he’d had since he was a teenager even as a full-grown man, Nick merely said to those still sitting at the table, “Save my spot.”

Nick followed his uncle into a small office off the kitchen. This was, as Nick remembered, Hank’s sanctuary. It was the one spot in the house that Aunt Barbara didn’t touch—no matter how disorganized or cluttered it became.

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