Page 11 of More Than This Land

“Yes, you are.” Mom descended the steps with short, clipped strides, stopping next to the post where they hitched their horses. “I didn’t raise you to show guests around without feeding them.”

Claire’s expression shifted from amusement to worry, her gaze bouncing between him and Mom. “Mrs. Calloway, I don’t want to impose⁠—”

“You’re not, honey. You’re accepting hospitality.” Mom held out both arms and hugged Claire like they were the best of friends. “Even if my son didn’t offer it like I taught him. Besides,” she squeezed Claire’s shoulders, “I want to hear all about your time here since coming back.”

“Mom—”

“Inside. Both of you.” She turned toward the house, clearly expecting obedience.

Luke rubbed his forehead. They didn’t have much choice. “My mother doesn’t take no for an answer, and my brothers will probably show up because they have a sixth sense for when embarrassment is imminent.”

Claire’s laugh was soft and surprised. “Then I guess we’re having lunch.”

The Calloway kitchen was warm and lived in, with worn countertops and a long, wooden table that had hosted generations of family meals. Mom bustled around adding plates and glasses while Luke washed his hands at the sink, trying not to pay attention to Claire standing in his mother’s kitchen looking simultaneously comfortable and out of place.

Graham appeared first, followed by Caleb who’d been checking fence lines in the north pasture. Noah was apparently in town picking up supplies, which meant Luke was spared the full quartet of brotherly torment.

Small mercies.

They settled around the table as Dad strolled in, set his hat on the shelf, and joined them with a hearty welcome to Claire.

Bowing their heads, Dad prayed thanking the Lord for the food and for all those around the table.

Graham helped himself to a heaping portion of pot roast. “So, Claire. What’s your verdict on our operation? Luke running this place like a Fortune 500 or what?”

“Graham.” Mom’s warning didn’t stop his impertinent brother.

He smiled and passed Claire the potatoes. “What? I’m just curious.” Graham’s grin stretched wider as he glanced between Luke and Claire. “Besides, it’s not every day Luke brings someone to the ranch who isn’t here to sign a contract or fix equipment. This is practically a social call.”

Heat crawled up the back of Luke’s neck. “It’s not a social call.” The words came out clipped. “This is a business consultation.”

“Right. Business.” Graham loaded his fork, eyes dancing with mischief. “That’s why Mom set out the good napkins, and you’ve checked your shirt for stains three times since we sat down.”

Luke’s hand stilled halfway to his collar. He hadn’t realized he’d been doing that.

Across the table, Claire’s cheeks flushed pink, the color spreading down her neck to disappear beneath her blouse collar. She picked up her water glass, holding it with both hands. “This is strictly professional.” Claire took a careful sip of water. “Luke’s operation is impressive. Very efficient, well-organized, strategically sound.”

“But?” Caleb spoke for the first time, his quiet voice cutting through Graham’s noise.

Claire’s eyes flicked to Luke, then back to Caleb. “There might be opportunities to balance efficiency with community engagement in ways that strengthen both.”

“Diplomatic.” Graham loaded his fork with a grin. “I like her.”

“Claire’s been helping several families from church with their finances.” Mom passed the rolls to Claire. “She’s been a great help to people in town. I’ve heard your name a dozen times this week from Mrs. Patterson and a few others.”

“I want to help as much as I can while I’m here.” Claire’s gaze shot to him, then slid away.

Was she planning on leaving? He hadn’t given it much thought. Most people who moved here stayed.

“How long have you been doing financial consulting?” Caleb asked.

“About eight years.” Claire set down her water glass, her fingers leaving small prints on the condensation. “Started with agricultural businesses after I sold my father’s shop.”

“What kind of shop?” Dad paused with a forkful of meat halfway to his mouth.

Claire poked at her food, her stiffening posture showing her discomfort with the change in conversation. “Auto repair. He ran it for twenty years before he passed.”

The table went quiet for a beat.