The Bequest

My first thought, in terms of adding a real world angle, was to road trip from New York to this cattle ranch. However, when I put it into a map online, it said it would take about thirty-two hours. That's without figuring in detours and bathroom breaks, etc.

When I imagined what the rental car, not to mention my hips, would look like after thirty-two hours of gas station donuts and Pringles... I booked us tickets to Salt Lake City. It's not a place I thought I'd ever go. I'm not a big skier or hiker, so what's the point?

When Mr. Swift told me that my husband apparently spent every summer in Manila, Utah, population under 400, I almost didn't believe him. It's not like I could call his parents to ask-they passed away the year before I met Paul, when his younger brother Nate was just starting law school.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot see Paul on a ranch, tending cows, or whatever you do with them. Are they like sheep? Do you stand around watching them with a staff? The extent of my knowledge about ranching comes from a handful of Hallmark movies where a character goes to a ranch. Usually the person who travels there has to carry a heavy grain bag and ends up spilling it somewhere. Bucolic creatures come over to eat it, and there's always poop on the main character's shoe. Eventually a developer always shows up, sniffing around, trying to buy up the land to fill it with GAPS and Starbucks stores. (In the middle of nowhere, yes.) Wouldn't that be nice?

But we couldn't even sell it for a whole year, not if we want to keep the proceeds.

Ugh.

At least I pack smarter than the idiots on those Hallmark movies. I packed two pairs of boots, two pairs of sneakers, one of them quite old and worn out, and several pairs of my tiredest looking jeans. I even found a flannel shirt in the back of my closet. When I inevitably have to haul a heavy bag of pig food, I'll be sure to put it on.

I booked a nonstop flight, but thanks to some lousy weather over our planned flight path, or so they say, it takes two flights, with a miserable two-hour layover in Denver, before we reach Salt Lake. At least it's not hot or muggy when we deplane. And thank heavens for phones-my girls spent both flights doing who knows what on their tiny screens.

I came up with a whole list of possible promotional photo ideas with the images Heather sent me. It's hard to tell exactly how the product will look from a picture, of course, so they're subject to change. Heather assured me that the actual clothing pieces would arrive at the ranch in the next few days. In the meantime, I've got a half dozen things I had promised to push back until June, so I can start with them. It'll be a little bit hard to mention the newest dating app way out here, but maybe I can turn it into kind of a joke that highlights what a remote place I'm in.

"Are we close?" Maren asks. "Because my battery's almost dead."

"It's quite a drive from here," I admit. "But I have the rental car booked, and I'm sure you can charge it in the car."

Maren blinks. "Really?"

It's not her fault-we've never had a car. It's not as if the subway makes recharging simple.

"I bet it's a pretty drive," Emery says. "I'm excited."

Maren mutters something under her breath that makes Emery wilt. I wish she'd stop doing that. It's not a crime to be an optimist. "Let's go grab our bags."

We're only planning to stay for a few weeks, but you'd never know it from the volume of luggage. Part of that is my fault-I have no idea what to expect, and when I don't know, I over prepare. Even with one of the pay-for-use-carts, it's hard to pile all of our things up in a way that we can easily navigate. And by the time we reach the rental car kiosk, the line of people waiting is already quite long.

Maren's phone dies, and I really wish I'd thought to bring one of those power banks. If they weren't so heavy, I would have.

"We'll be headed back way before my cheer camp, right?" Maren spears me with one of her most obnoxious looks. "Because Greta's going to the Hamptons every weekend and I promised her that "

"Don't worry," I say. "We'll be back with plenty of time for you to do cheer camp and waste time with your friends."

"How long are we planning to stay?" Emery asks.

I can't imagine we'll last more than two weeks. "A week or two at most."

"Thank goodness." Maren looks up at the ceiling. "If Greta stops inviting me to things and becomes friends with Lark instead because we stay too long, I'll never talk to you again."

It might do Maren a little good to find some new friends, but I don't bother suggesting that. Finally it's our turn.

"How can you not have any SUVS left? I reserved one last week. I have the confirmation right here."

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"We had a mechanical issue with a Tahoe," the lady behind the counter says. "And then our Expedition wasn't returned on time."

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Well, we have a full-size van "

Maren groans.

"Or we can offer you a sedan."

"I paid a premium for the SUV," I say.

"Which we will absolutely refund you for." Her perky smile is not improving my mood.

I glance back at our monumentally large pile of suitcases and bags. "Do you think all of that will fit in a sedan?"

The woman's face tells me what I need to know.

"You don't have anything else, other than a full-size van?"

She shakes her head slowly.

A full-size van, like the mom from the Brady Bunch probably had to drive. I sigh. "Fine. I guess give me the van."

"Make sure it's not in any of the photos." Maren's cackle isn't very attractive.

"Look, girls, sometimes things don't go as you planned, and you just have to roll with it."

"Nice pun, Mom," Emery says.

"Oh my gosh," Maren says. "Are you kidding?"

But fifteen minutes later, I'm bouncing around in the driver seat of the van, my hands wrapped around the enormous steering wheel at ten and two, wondering if I'll really be alright, driving this for three hours. I should've arranged a shuttle or something.

"How long has it been since you drove something?" Maren's right eyebrow's hoisted almost to her hairline. "Because you don't look very... competent."

"It's fine." It takes me a few miles to settle in, but I only clip one curb, and the tire doesn't even go flat.

"We're going to die," Maren says. "And no one will even know where we are. They'll never find our bodies."

"Stop being such a drama queen," Emery says. "There's no one out here to hear you anyway."

I don't snort, but I want to. I love when Emery shows a little bit of fire.