Jake studied the pictures along the fireplace mantle, waiting for Peony to come back. He flexed his hand out, still feeling tense, but remembering the firm grip Liz had as they shook hands. Her blue eyes had shocked him, the colour of sapphires and her voice was sexy and firm. He was sure the blood had drained from his head when she'd spoken, reminding him of a smooth, aged whisky.

Why he'd had that response, he wasn't sure, because she was nothing like anyone he would ever find himself attracted to. She wasn't citified, or polished, her flyaway wavy hair barely contained under her beaten up work hat. But there it was. He ran a hand down his face and chalked it up to a long drive and a strange situation.

Pictures of his father and a myriad of horses were the main focus in many of the frames. A wedding shot of Peony and Brett was there too, with a much younger Liz, all buckteeth and piled-up hair, wearing some lace concoction in front of them.

Another picture off to the other side, was a beautiful, auburn-haired woman with two boys, sitting on a log, all of them in very nicely knitted sweaters, the fall leaves surrounding them. They must be his brothers, he thought. He picked it up, studying their faces, looking for recognition in them.

"Her name was Veronica. She was my mother," a voice said from behind him.

Jake looked up and did a double-take, putting the picture back quickly. Standing in the door was a more weathered version of himself, dressed in worn-out jeans, a brimmed hat in his hands. Tall, like he was, dark-haired and dark-eyed.

"Jake West," Jake said, walking towards the man, hand outstretched.

"I know who you are," he clipped, and did not take Jake's hand. Jake dropped it, stopping short, sensing the uncomfortable tone that had entered the room with him.

They eyed one another, neither of them moving, and Jake knew he was being measured and found wanting. This guy was the real deal. Likely resenting the hell out of him for even existing right about now. Jake had faced down restaurant critics that had been less intimidating.

"Tanner West!" Peony admonished as she returned, breaking the silence, a tray in her hands. "I know you are upset, but don't you be rude to our guest."

Tanner's flinty gaze turned from Jake and softened slightly. "Sorry. I'm on edge. We didn't kn—"

"You must be Jake!" another male voice said, and Jake turned to see another man bound into the living room, a smile on his face. He was a bit shorter than Tanner, and had auburn hair, like his mother in the photo. "I'm Brady, the baby."

Jake smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you." And it was an honest statement. At least one of these men wasn't being an asshole. He was thankful for that.

"Frank's bringing his car around," Brady said as he flopped onto a chair, and put his hat on his knee. Peony handed him a glass of tea, and he poured it down his throat in one smooth motion. Jake put his hands in his pockets. He felt like an interloper. This family was obviously close, had lived here their whole life. He was...

Well, he didn't belong here. At all. Peony handed him a glass of tea, and he nodded his head in appreciation.

"Thank you."

"So, Jake, Frank tells me you are a chef in New York City?" Peony said, sitting herself on the sofa across from him, balancing her own glass, her eyes focused in on him. He nodded as he took a sip of his tea.

"Yes. Just sold my restaurant in Greenpoint."

"Oh, is that a nice area?" she asked politely. "Whereabouts is that in the city?"

"Brooklyn."

Silence followed. Neither of the other two men had said a thing, but were watching him like hawks. He shifted on his feet, and wondered where in hell the lawyer and Liz had gotten to. Anything to break up the tension in the room.

"How long have you lived there?" she continued, her eyes flitting to his brothers. She was uncomfortable too, but trying her best to be a good hostess. The strangeness of his presence intensified.

"Well, most of my life. My mother moved back there when I was three, I think? We lived in Washington Heights for awhile, then moved to Brooklyn when I was a teen."

"Yes, I think I remember Heather," Peony said quietly. "Red-hair, snapping green eyes, voice like cracked glass?"

"That would be her," he said, surprised. "How did you know her?"

"I grew up in Brightside. Your mother was quite a newsmaker back in the day," Peony said with a hint of humour in her voice, winking.

His mother was from here? Before he could ask Peony to explain that, Tanner let out a frustrated-sounding growl and peered out the closest window, flicking the curtain back with an irritated gesture. Jake got the distinct impression that he did not take kindly to waiting, or imposition of any kind, the way he was fussing.

"Where the hell is Frank?" Tanner added, and paced towards the front hallway. Jake watched his newfound brother's jaw flex, noticing the similarity to himself. He was brought right back to earth about why he was here, and how much of a shock it was for everyone concerned.

"Mrs. West—" Jake started, but Peony waved her hands and he stopped.

"Call me Peony, please, my dear. You're family now."

Another angry sigh from Tanner threw doubt on that, but Jake let it slide and smiled at the woman. He noticed now the exhaustion on her face, the slight tremor.

"Peony. I'm so sorry about all this. Truthfully, this is a shock to me." He moved over and sat on a large ottoman beside the sofa. Peony reached out, patted his leg, and shook her head.

"I know," she said quietly, then leaned in. "Brett told me about you about a year ago. I didn't believe him at first. But—"

She had stopped and pursed her lips together, looking down at her hands and taking a breath. When she looked up, Jake blinked. Gone was the humour, replaced by something he couldn't place. Grief? Maybe regret? It was hard to tell, but it was obviously sad.

"He never once told either of those boys about you. They found out about you today."

Brady, who had been listening in, nodded his head.

"I gotta say, you are quite a surprise, New York. Dad never once spoke about you, or Heather."

"I didn't know about you either," Jake said honestly, looking over at the younger man, raising an eyebrow at Brady's automatic assignment of a nickname. "I don't remember my father, and my mother never talked about him other than to say, well, not nice things."

Brady looked up then, and levered out of the chair. Jake stood, hearing feet on the floor, and an older man, whom he assumed was the lawyer, came in, Liz behind him. Liz was attempting to hide her tension, her gloves in her hand clenched in a death grip the only giveaway. He watched her eyes flit over her brothers, and then make her way to her mother, gently sitting down beside her. She was protective of them. For good reason, right now.

"Ah Jake. You made it," Frank said, and stepped quickly to him, pumping his hand as they shook. "Good flight?"

"Yes, thanks," he replied, and Frank smiled.

"Good, good. Okay. I won't take up much more of your time. Let's get to it, shall we?"

Everyone but Tanner settled in chairs and on the sofa. Liz was holding her mother's hand, Brady sunk back into his armchair, and Frank sat down on another tall-backed chair, setting his briefcase on the coffee table in front of him.

Tanner leaned on the fireplace, arms folded, eyes glittering with animosity. Jake pulled up another chair on the side of the room from him, and sat, his glass of tea in his hands, holding it for something to do with them. He sensed the awkward, strange tension again. It was as if he was watching a movie unfold around him, a mere spectator.

"Okay. Brett, I guess without any of you knowing, contacted me about a year ago to give me his will, and set up all his funeral costs."

Jake glanced at Peony, who had closed her eyes, and he felt his heart lurch for her. She must have gone through hell with all this. All of them, really, but it seemed to have taken a toll on her. He looked back as Frank cleared his throat.

"Brett had cancer. He didn't want to burden any of you with it, so he asked me not to say anything. We talked about this already, but Jake here, he's not aware of many details."

"Get to it, Frank. We've got a ranch to run," Tanner clipped, and shifted his stance at the fireplace. "You can fill City Boy in later."

Frank nodded. "Fine, fine. So, Brett also asked me to reach out to Jake, but only after he had passed away. I didn't ask why. I honestly thought he'd told you boys, and Liz here, about him, but I guess not, and now here we are."

An irritated noise from Tanner made them all look his way, but he was staring into the hearth, not at them, so Frank pulled out some papers and continued.

"I was instructed to only read the will once Jake was back on West Line Ranch soil. So, thank you, Jake for making the trip on such short notice for the sake of a formality."

Jake nodded silently, noting the raised eyebrows on Brady, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Jake watched as Frank broke the seal on the will envelope, looking around at each of the other people in the room. It must be a thing in Canada that wills were sealed. He waited, the uncomfortable anticipation sneaking up his back and roiling his stomach. He wasn't entitled to one thing here, and he wouldn't have wanted to take away from anyone else.

He'd already resolved that if he was left money, or some sort of belongings, he would give it back. He'd never known his father, and his father had never tried to find them. Even during the lean years, when they had little to no money, he'd never been there. As a young man, that had hurt.

He'd long ago given up the bitterness that came with the hurt, mostly so he could move on, and make something for himself. It was what it was. So in that vein, he'd also given up any right to have a piece of what his father had left behind.

"Alright. I was instructed that another lawyer, other than me, had vetted the legality of this will, and I was not to open the envelope, as executor, until now. I followed instructions, but I did contact the other lawyer. He verified it for me last week that this is all above board. So, let me scan this quickly, folks, before I read it out, so I can explain it if you have questions."

Nods all around, and Jake watched Frank settle his glasses on his nose, scanning the document quickly, his hands moving down the page. But then, Frank stopped, his face turning white, and he took his glasses off again, rubbing his eyes.

"Holy shit, Brett," he muttered, and looked up, directly at Tanner, who was now watching the lawyer with the same scrutiny he had offered Jake earlier.

"Frank..." Tanner stated ominously.

"I'm so sorry Tanner. So truly sorry," Frank said, laying the papers down on top of his briefcase.

Brady stood up, and Peony took in a breath. Liz looked at her mother, then at Tanner, and then at Jake. He looked back at her, catching the concern and worry in her eyes, the stiffness she was holding herself in. You could cut the stress in the room with a knife.

"Tell us," Peony said quietly. "What has that fool old man gone and done, Frank?"

Frank cleared his throat twice before he could speak. He looked directly at Peony, put his hands on the papers. They were shaking slightly.

"He's left the entire operation to Jake."