Текст книги "Shaken, Not Stirred"
Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter 23
Casey
Tenn pushes past my chair as his fingers tap something on his phone and he’s putting it up to his ear. I immediately scoot my chair back, put my napkin on the table, and shoot my mom a quick glance. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time, honey,” she says and her eyes are as worried as I know mine are.
Hot on Tenn’s heels, I follow him through the living room and out through the front door as he holds the phone to his ear. As I’m walking through, I hear him say, “What happened?”
His voice is soft… filled with dread. I know something bad is going on, and my insides start to cramp with worry over Zoey. I step around Tenn and rest a hand lightly on his stomach to let him know I’m here if he needs me, which I think he does.
The muscles in his abdomen bunch in reflex, but then he relaxes as he shoots an apprehensive look at me while he listens.
I don’t know who is on the other line but whatever they’re saying produces an effect on Tenn. The foreboding leaves his eyes and is immediately replaced with a hot flash of shock. That quickly melts away and his skin pales, then I’m staring at full-blown grief within those blue irises. His lips draw down, a soft rush of breath blows through his lips, and then everything drains out of his eyes until they’re devoid of anything.
Flat.
Dead.
Just… nothing.
My fingers curl into the soft material of his t-shirt, and I bunch it hard with anxiety.
“I’ll get the quickest flight out I can,” Tenn says, his voice thick and hoarse. “I’ll text you the details.”
He listens a minute more and then he pulls the phone away from his ear, not having bothered to say goodbye to whoever was on the other end. His gaze shifts away from me, staring blankly at the house next door.
“What’s happened?” I ask, my own voice scratchy with distress.
Tenn’s shoulders sag as if fifty-pound weights are on each side, and then his head slowly turns back my way. “It’s my dad… he’s dead.”
“What?” I exclaim as my entire body receives a sizzle of shock and my fingers tighten harder into his shirt.
“He got thrown from a horse, and then um… trampled. Took a hoof right to his chest. Ruptured something in his heart apparently.”
His words are flat and monotone. I launch myself at him, burying my face in his chest and bringing my arms around his back to hug him as tight as I can. His arms immediately come around me, clinging hard, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head.
“I’m so sorry, Tenn,” I murmur as I turn my face to rest my cheek against him, my arms clutching at him in a desperate attempt to convey my feelings. “So, so sorry.”
He hugs me back, silently accepting my sympathy. My brain tries to process everything I know about Tenn’s father. He’s been notoriously tight lipped about him, and I assume it’s because they weren’t overly close. Tenn has told me that his father has pestered him repetitively to come into the family business of ranching, and Tenn has told me that he has no intention of doing that. I know he’s just been waiting for his younger brother, Woolf, to sort of step up to the plate and fill his shoes, and now I have to imagine that in addition to the grief of losing their father, the two brothers will need to come to some sort of understanding.
And shit… it hits me all at once. Maybe this is really Tenn’s destiny. Maybe he has to take over the ranch now that both his parents are gone. And that means he’ll be living thousands of miles away, and even as this fills me with a weird feeling of abandonment, I also feel tremendous guilt for even worrying about this because it’s a selfish thought to have at this point.
“I need to get back to your house and get packed… make some plane reservations,” he says absently, looking utterly lost and vulnerable.
“Of course,” I say suddenly, pulling away and springing in to action. “I’m going to go grab my purse.”
“Apologize to your family,” he says softly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say quickly, and then fly back into the house.
I give a quick explanation of what’s happened, and my mom immediately jumps up wanting to assist. She offers to pack food and get online for plane reservations, making a move toward the front door to step out onto the porch and console Tenn.
With a gentle hand on her shoulder, I say, “I’ve got this, Mom.”
She nods and smiles sadly, sitting back down at the table.
“I’ll call you and let you know what’s going on,” I say as I turn away from my family.
“Call us if you need us, honey,” my dad says to my retreating back.
“I’ll cover you at The Last Call if you need to go with him,” Brody also says, and I have to smile at his offer. He hates bartending, so this gesture really touches my heart.
And I’m going to take him up on that because there’s no way in hell that Tenn is going without me.
He needs me but more importantly… I really need to be there for him. It’s something I feel compelled to do, not out of obligation, but out of a sense of connection I have with him. His hurt has become my hurt.
I manage to get Tenn loaded into my Jeep, and I know by the fact he doesn’t insist on driving that he’s out of it. Probably consumed with grief and even guilt, he does nothing but stare silently out the passenger window as I make the drive back to Nags Head. I rest my hand on his thigh and he places his hand on top of mine, then clutches my fingers gently.
By the time we walk into my house, I have a game plan in effect.
“Why don’t you start getting packed,” I tell Tenn firmly, giving him a push on his lower back. “I’m going to jump online and start checking out flight options. Do you want to fly out quickest or go through Raleigh and pick up Zoey?”
More pain flashes through Tenn’s face. “Fuck… I need to call Zoey.”
He looks lost as his eyes flutter around the living room, almost as if he can’t even decide how to pick up the phone to dial his daughter.
“She was really close to my dad,” Tenn mutters.
I know it’s a stupid offer but I go ahead and make it anyway, knowing there is no way in hell that Tenn would ever take me up on it. He’s not the type of man that would ever shirk away from his fatherly duty.
“Do you want me to call her?” I ask tentatively.
His eyes slide to mine, and I see the real Tenn underneath the grief. His lips quirk a tiny bit as he shakes his head. “Nice offer, Goldie… but you know I need to do this. Let me go ahead and do that now, and then we can figure out plane reservations.”
I walk up to him, press my body in close, and stand up on tiptoes, grazing a soft, gentle kiss on the side of his neck. “Okay. I’m actually going to go get you packed up and give you some privacy. Then I’ll make our reservations once you figure Zoey out.”
“Our reservations?” he asks with surprise.
“I’m going with you,” I tell him firmly, leveling him a look that almost dares him to fight me on it.
But he doesn’t, which is good, because there’s no way in hell I’m staying here. Not after I found out he loves me. Granted, he said it to my dad and not me, but I heard the words.
He knows I heard the words.
He knows I didn’t run, and it should tell him something that not only am I not running, but I’m pinning myself to his side in his time of need.
So, he might not have said the words directly to me yet, and I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to say them to him any time soon, but I suspect that we both know what’s going on here. It’s just right now… with this tragedy unfolding for Tenn, there are more important things to do than worry about mere words.
I need to show him how I feel.
Reaching out, I lay my hand in the middle of his chest and rub my thumb over his breastbone. Then I give a soft pat and turn to head back into the bedroom to get his meager supply of clothing together, and get me packed as well.
It doesn’t take long for me to get organized. I can hear Tenn’s soft voice in the other room as he speaks to Zoey, but I can’t hear the details of that conversation. I’m thinking this is good, because I honestly don’t know if I could handle listening to Tenn console a grief-stricken Zoey right now. I know what it’s like to experience loss at a tender age and it’s not pretty. Brody may not have died, and I may have been a few years older than Zoey, but it was a terrible loss all the same. It was as if Brody had died, and I felt my world had been turned upside down.
As soon as I’m done packing, I place a quick call to Hunter. He had already heard what happened from Brody and told me not to worry about my shifts and that they’d cover for me as long as I needed to be in Wyoming with Tenn. That was so sweet, and the perfect example of why I love my brothers, but I didn’t think I’d be there long. I wanted to help Tenn get through the funeral, but then I knew I’d have to return to my life. I just wasn’t sure if Tenn would be returning with me.
After I hang up with Hunter, I pull the large suitcase I have filled with mine and Tenn’s clothing off the bed and roll it over to the wall so it’s out of the way. I cautiously walk back into my living room, and I don’t hear Tenn talking anymore. I find him at my table, with my laptop open, leaning forward to peer at the screen.
He doesn’t look up to acknowledge my presence but says, “I’m looking at flights. You sure you want to go with me?”
I walk up behind him, curl my arms around his chest, lean in, and give him a tight hug. “Totally sure.”
“Well, it looks like there’s actually an early flight out of New Bern that heads to Detroit, and then in to Jackson. It’s the fastest,” he says as he continues to scroll through the choices.
“What about Zoey?” I ask tentatively.
“Brianna wants to bring her,” Tenn says, his words flat but accepting. “And that’s fine… I mean… she loved my dad too in her own weird way. She can get compassionate time off from her job.”
“How is Zoey taking this?”
Tenn takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his hand falling away from the laptop. He places his palms over my forearms that are crossed over his chest and grips tightly as he eases his head back to rest against me. “She’s devastated,” he says, and his voice cracks.
I squeeze on to him hard, trying to suck the pain away from him that I know he’s suffering not only because his own father is dead, but also because he’s a father to a child who is suffering. I know Tenn… he’ll put aside his own misery to take on every bit of Zoey’s.
He lets me hold him for a few moments, even sighs when I lean to the side and press my lips to his cheek. I nuzzle against his skin and feel him melt just a tiny bit as he accepts my sympathy.
But then he’s pushing out of my hold and reaching into his back pocket. As he pulls his wallet out, he says, “Are you sure you can take the time to go with me?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him as I turn to grab my own purse so I can get my credit card out. “Hunter told me to take all the time I need.”
“That means a lot, Goldie,” Tenn says quietly, and shivers race up my spine over the gratitude I hear in his voice. It feels good… knowing I’m doing something that he really needs right now.
I turn and hold out my credit card to find Tenn already filling in information on the computer screen to book the flights. “Here… to purchase my ticket.”
He just shakes his head. “I got it.”
“No way,” I insist. “You are not paying for my plane ticket.”
“Back off, Goldie,” he says in a low warning. “I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”
I heed his voice, dropping my outstretched hand. He needs to be in charge now, and this is not the time to try to assert my independence with him. For the time being, I’ll let Tenn do the things he needs to do, and I just need to be there to support him.
Because we didn’t eat, I head into the kitchen and find a few cans of soup I can heat up. I work on getting them opened and started on a low simmer on the stove while Tenn finishes booking our flights. When he’s done, he pulls out his phone and sends a text to his brother with our arrival time, waits for his response, and then texts something back.
“Woolf will pick us up at the airport,” Tenn says absently as he pushes out of the chair.
I turn the stove off and open the cupboard to the right to get some bowls. “Let’s get some food in you and then we’ll get a good night’s sleep since we—”
My words are cut off as Tenn steps up behind me, taking my wrist that is extended toward the cupboard. He pulls it away, drags it back toward my body, and then presses into my back. Wrapping both arms around me, he envelopes me in a warm hug that is full of thanks and then morphs into need. I know it’s need because I can feel him start to grow hard against my lower back.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask softly, holding my body still to see what he really wants.
“Yes,” he breathes in my ear, and then drops his hands down to my thighs where he skims his fingers over my skin, just under the hem of my sundress.
His unspoken words? I’m hungry for you.
Immediately turning in his arms, I press my breasts into his chest and dip my fingers into his waistband. I look up at him and my heart hurts over the pain I see there, but know that based on the need I see there too, that I can make him feel marginally better.
My hands work at his belt buckle and I quickly undo it, his button and zipper following quickly. He stares down at me with quiet interest, but when my hands start to push down at his jeans, he stills them with just one word. “Don’t,” he says quietly.
I press a quick kiss against his breastbone, and then tilt my head back to look at him. “But I want to take care of you.”
Tenn’s fingers drag upward, taking my skirt with his hands. He curls them around to the back, squeezing my ass gently, leveling me with a heated stare. He shakes his head. “I need to drive.”
“Be in charge?” I ask gently, knowing damn well that’s what he means.
“Yeah… I need a bit of normalcy right now,” he admits as he slips his fingers under the back edge of my panties. “I honestly don’t think I can handle you taking care of me tonight.”
His words are rough and strained but rather than respond… to potentially cause him to break on me, I simply nod and lift my mouth to his. He takes it… gladly, and kisses me deep.
While his mouth moves against mine, causing me to start to fall into that deep abyss of pleasure, his hands grip hard on my ass and lift me up. My legs naturally wrap around his waist and our kiss never breaks. Deepens in fact.
When my core settles against him and I give a little grind, deep gratification rumbles in his chest and he turns to carry me to the bedroom. In just moments, he has me on the bed and stripped naked. He proceeds to remove his own clothing, not rushing and keeping his eyes pinned on my face while I in turn let my own eyes rove all over his body. I take in the planes and contours of his muscles, the vibrant ink on his arms and shoulders, the patch of hair just below his belly button that dives down into those pants and points me to my favorite part of his body.
My nerves hum and my blood sizzles.
It’s what always happens when I know that Tenn is going to touch me.
Taste me.
Fuck me.
I wait with nervous anticipation to see what he’ll do. Will it be an onslaught of lust? Or sweet touches to slowly build me up? He’s a master at both, and I don’t have a preference.
But he does neither.
Instead, he kneels on the bed between my legs and proceeds to run his hands over my skin. Everywhere. All over my entire body except my breasts and the money spot between my legs. He curves his hands around my ankles, digging his thumb deliciously into my instep. Spreads his fingers wide and palms my calves, squeezing them gently before smoothing upward to my thighs. Everywhere… hips, stomach, the inside of my elbows. He strokes my collarbone and my neck, running his fingers over my jawline.
After he has his fill, he finally brings his body down on top of mine, nestling his hard cock against me and kisses me. Leisurely and deep, not in a rush to do anything but savor.
He laces his fingers with mine, pulling our hands above our heads. He kisses me so sensually that I become immersed in a deep pool of feeling. I become so captivated by what his tongue does to mine that I really don’t even notice as he starts to shift his hips so his cock presses against my warm opening.
When he pushes in a fraction, I can’t control the gasp that comes out of my mouth. He sucks it down and keeps kissing me, all while slowly pushing his way inside.
And when he’s fully seated… when we are pelvis to pelvis and he can’t go any deeper, he just rocks against me. Presses deeply.
Over and over again.
He takes me slowly and drags out every bit of pleasure between us. Our breathing matches pace with one another, our hands grasp tightly. We build all the way up and when it’s time, we take the plunge together.
Pushing in deep, he starts coming at the same time I do.
It’s magnificent, and I’ve never felt closer to him than I do at this moment.
Knowing that he needed me and based on the low moan of pleasure and relief I hear in his voice, I know that for even just a moment, I was able to give him some peace.
When he finally collapses on top of me, I hear him whisper in my ear a direct admission. “I love you, Casey.”
Chapter 24
Tenn
As our flight turns parallel to the Teton Mountain range to line up with the runway at the Jackson Airport, I feel a moderate amount of turbulence that is typical of the high crosswinds. Casey jerks awake in her seat, and I immediately take her hand.
She didn’t tell me that this was only her second time on an airplane, or that she had a slight fear of flying until we were barreling down the runway in New Bern. She clutched my hand in a death grip, imprinting little half-moon divets into the back of my hand with her nails. I only managed to get her to release her hold after plying her with two Jack and Cokes so she could relax marginally. Just before our flight left Detroit after our layover, I also had her down a few drinks before we boarded, and that takeoff was much smoother. And she’s been sleeping ever since.
I still can’t believe she came with me.
Fuck, I can’t believe my father is dead.
Grief and guilt have been a constant companion since I got the news last night. Grief that a vibrant and beloved man is dead and guilt that perhaps I was an utter disappointment to him and he died with that on my conscience. He died without me ever having the ability to just make that final decision about what I wanted to do with my life. He died with me not knowing if he even forgave me for not wanting to continue with the family’s legacy.
Casey’s hand clutches at mine again, and I can feel how sweaty her palms are. I squeeze her with reassurance, and she lays her head on my shoulder.
It’s a beautiful feeling.
I like her dependence on me for comfort.
I really like the fact she didn’t go running after I told her I loved her last night.
Granted, she didn’t say it back, but I could tell by the way her arms wrapped around me and she squeezed me so gently to her, that she was touched by my words. I know she was touched, and probably intrigued, maybe still a bit scared, but honestly… she’s open to it. I know this because she fell asleep wrapped in my embrace, and that’s how I found her this morning. Still glued to me… and it chased a little of my sadness away.
We make it through the process of deplaning and walking through the small, rustic airport to the baggage claim. After a short wait, our bags arrive… a large one that holds both of our clothes and a smaller one that holds Casey’s toiletries. I grab the big suitcase while she takes the smaller one, and lead her out the door, where I know Woolf will be waiting.
I immediately see him… leaning up against the side of a silver pickup truck with the Double J Ranch logo on the side. He’s dressed exactly as I would be if I were working the ranch. Plaid western shirt, pair of worn jeans, dusty cowboy boots, and his brown-colored Stetson pulled low over his face, the ends of his dark hair curling out from the bottom against his neck. Even with the hat pulled low, his light blue eyes, the exact duplicate of mine, shine brightly.
I step off the curb to the rear of the truck and heft the large suitcase over the back and into the bed. Woolf pushes off from the truck and walks up to me, his eyes sad with grief and the same guilt that I know is reflected in mine.
My arms open up naturally to him, and we give each other a short hug with hard slaps on the back. When I release him, he nudges the front of his hat back on his head so I can see his face more clearly. “Can’t fucking believe it, bro,” he mutters. “Fucking talking to him one minute, the next he’s on the ground and Lucky is giving him CPR.”
I wince over that grim description, hating that Woolf even had to witness our dad’s death. I’d seen a lot of death when I served in Afghanistan, but I suppose it’s quite different when you watch a family member die before your eyes.
“Sorry you had to see that, man. Wish I’d been here with you,” I say quietly… absolutely lying through my teeth. No one would want to see that.
“Fucking liar,” Woolf says with a pained grin on his face, and I can’t help give him a return smile that’s more sheepish than anything.
Turning to Casey, I reach my arm out and beckon her forward. She comes to me with sure steps, looking at Woolf with a sympathetic smile.
I introduce her simply, so there’s no question as to her status in my life. “This is my girlfriend, Casey.”
Slipping an arm around her waist to pull her in toward me, I tell her, “Goldie… this is my brother, Woolf.”
Casey sticks her hand out and Woolf shakes it, surprise on his face. I didn’t tell him I was bringing anyone because I didn’t feel like making explanations. I also didn’t feel like listening to Woolf try to talk me out of bringing someone, so it’s another reason why I kept my lips zipped about her.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Woolf says guardedly as he shakes her hand. “But welcome, Casey.”
“I’m so sorry about your father,” she says, her eyes warm and soft as she regards my little brother.
Woolf gives her an accommodating smile, continuing to look at her with a slight degree of suspicion, but at least his tone is friendly when he says, “Well… let’s get you two out to the ranch.”
After I put Casey’s carry-on into the back of the truck, I lead her to the passenger door where I climb into the back of the extended cab and offer her the front seat so she can get a better view of my old world. I may not want a place in my family’s ranching history but there is absolutely no denying… this area of Wyoming is the most beautiful place in the world. Casey’s world is gorgeous with soft, pale sand and blue-green waters that sparkle with the sun, but it just can’t compare to this area with the majestic Teton mountain range with snowcapped peaks even in the summer, wide valleys filled with fragrant sagebrush, and sparkling rivers that wind through filled with cutthroat trout. While I certainly believe I can come to love living on the coast of North Carolina, there is nothing that will ever replace my love of this part of the country.
The ranch is a good forty-five minute drive from the airport. Wyoming is land rich and people poor. You can drive over half an hour before seeing your closest neighbor, so if you are an overly social person, this isn’t necessarily the place for you.
Casey stares with her face practically pressed against the passenger window, making small noises of wonder in the back of her throat as she watches the miles melt away and yet the Teton Mountains never seem to end. She asks a few questions but for the most part, the ride is silent, filled with an awkward tension since Woolf wasn’t expecting company on this ride and no one wants to talk about how my father died.
When we get to the main entrance to the Double J, my shoulders start to stiffen. I haven’t told Casey any more details about my family and the ranch. She has no clue what she’s walking in to, and while I’d like to say that I simply didn’t have the time to bring her up to speed, the fact of the matter is I just didn’t feel up to it. I have no clue how she’s going to react, but I figure it will be one of two ways. She’ll either be pissed or she won’t, and I figured that was going to happen whether I filled her in before or filled her in now.
The road that turns off the main highway is nondescript, paved with black asphalt for at least the first half mile. But it soon turns into a well-maintained dirt and gravel road that is fairly wide and lined on both sides by wildflowers. Another quarter mile down the road and the actual entrance to the ranch is revealed with a huge, red-stained sign that hangs over the road with carved and burned lettering that says “Double J Ranch” in large, chunky letters and below that “Teton Division”.
Woolf drives under the arched entrance and casually asks Casey, “Have you ever been to Wyoming before?”
“No,” she says, her voice almost reverent as she continues to look out at the amazing scenery. “But you can damn well rest assured I’ll be coming back. This may be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
Woolf chuckles, and I know that scored major points with him. He loves his home with a passion.
As we get closer to the main house, my insides start clenching with apprehension. In just a few minutes, Casey is going to understand that my family’s ranch is a bit more than just a small-time operation.
The curving road finally straightens, crosses over a small bridge that traverses the Gros Ventre River, and then breaks free of a copse of cottonwood trees to reveal my family home sitting atop a butte.
Casey gasps audibly and I wince, lowering my gaze to my hands clenched on my lap.
“That’s your house?” Casey asks Woolf in disbelief as she looks at the low, sprawling home that seems to cover the entire top of the hill.
“It is,” he says matter-of-factly, and he cuts his eyes in the rearview mirror to me. I can see his question clearly, “Doesn’t she know anything at all about you?”
The Jennings homestead is a little ostentatious, and Casey can’t even see the entire house from this vantage point. While my great-grandfather, Jared Jennings, started out in a modest three-bedroom log cabin when he started the ranch, my grandfather, Louis Jennings, decided that it didn’t necessarily convey the right message to the other cattle ranchers. He wanted to be the largest, most powerful cattleman, not only in the state of Wyoming, but also in the entire United States. Fueled on—no pun intended—by rich oil wells on our vast property, he built a home that rivaled that of the Vanderbilts.
Over fifteen thousand square feet of pine logs, slate stone, and three-story walls of glass make up the monstrosity that I grew up in with my parents and only sibling, Woolf. Fuck… the house is so large that Woolf and I had our own separate wings and would sometimes go days without seeing each other. From where we approach, Casey can only really see the top floor, which looks like it lays across the top of the butte in a lazy-like fashion. What she doesn’t know is that it actually spills down the back of the hill, cut partially into the earth and dribbling down three stories.
“That may be the biggest house I’ve ever seen in my life,” Casey practically chokes out.
Woolf chuckles while I wince again. He has no clue what’s running through Casey’s mind right now, although I have a pretty damned good idea. He thinks she’s just really impressed, but I know different.
“Yeah… the house is pretty monstrous,” Woolf says with a grin toward Casey as she leans forward to peer out the front windshield. “But it’s a blip really when you consider the size of the property.”
“And just how big would that be?” Casey asks quietly.
“Close to two-hundred thousand acres here in Wyoming, which encompasses both the cattle land and the oil wells,” Woolf says with a good deal of pride in his voice. “But we have another hundred thousand or so acres in Montana and Idaho.”
I’m sitting directly behind Casey, so I can’t really see the front of her face. Just the outline of her jaw, which seems to be popping back and forth. I don’t miss the fact that she becomes noticeably quiet after that.
Woolf doesn’t seem to notice either but follows the drive, which now turns into flagstone pavers that leads into a giant semi-circle in front of the house. Casey’s head turns slightly to the right as she takes in the detached eight-car garage constructed in the same pine logs and slate stone. It’s climate controlled and holds my dad’s toys… a loaded Silverado pickup truck that he used for ranch work, a vintage Hummer, a Mercedes G550, and a Corvette. The fifth spot is taken up by Woolf’s Land Rover, the sixth by my mother’s Jaguar that my dad refused to get rid of even though she passed away almost two years ago, and the remainder of the space is filled with Gators and ATVs that my dad would use to drive the property. What Casey can’t see is the long cookhouse and three bunkhouses that hold the resident ranch hands, which sit about five hundred yards past the garage.
The truck comes to a stop in front of the house, and we all exit. When I step down behind Casey, I resist the urge to reach out and try to massage the stiffness from her shoulders. I know her well enough to know she’s angry and confused right now, and she won’t accept any measure of physical touch from me.
But I also can’t let this fester further so I bluntly tell her, “Double J is the largest cattle ranch in United States.”
Her head turns to look at me, and the flash of heat and condemnation in her eyes smacks into me. “That’s kind of a surprise,” she says just as bluntly.
I scratch at the back of my head, trying to figure some way to diffuse her, but I’m distracted as Woolf pulls our suitcases out of the back of the truck and casually says, “After you get settled in, we need to talk about the funeral arrangements. We have some decisions to make and we need to choose a date. Governor Hayes will be attending, so we’re going to have to get that information to him so his security detail can get set up.”
