Dutton Ranch
After finishing his duties in the greenhouse, Dante headed to his father's house, which wasn't far from where he lived with Susie, and brought the vegetables that were good to eat today.
When he opened the main house door, Dante was greeted by the smell of wood and food coming from the kitchen, mixed with a hint of fried eggs.
He casually placed his things on the counter and greeted his father in the living room, who was reading the newspaper: "Hey, Dad."
There was no sign of Jamie in the room. Only Lee was standing by the stove, his back turned, stirring something with a spatula in hand.
"What's up?" John replied lazily, his tone as indifferent as his slumped shoulders.
Dante looked at him and felt something was off.
He walked over to the fridge and took out a bottle of milk. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip. At the same time, he glanced at what Lee was cooking and asked casually, "Are you making scrambled eggs?"
Lee's spatula struck the pan vigorously, the sound sharp and clear, with a hint of repressed anger. "Well, I was going to make a Spanish omelet…"
"Did your girlfriend teach you?"
"Something like that…" said Lee, doing his best not to mess it up.
"Well, good luck with that, little brother." Dante raised his eyebrows, leaned on the counter, and asked his father, "Are you going to eat that?"
"Whatever, it doesn't bother me." John wasn't picky with food, especially since he knew how hard it was to get it on the table.
Lee paused, took a deep breath, turned off the stove, and came over with the pot. He leaned on the counter, looking like he had a lot of resentment built up and was finally ready to talk about it.
"I don't think things are going to work out with her. I think she's too attached to Montana…" Lee suddenly spoke about the things that were troubling him in his relationship.
"Are you going to give up that easily?" Dante crossed his arms and looked at him. "Tell me, little brother, do you really think she doesn't deserve a life here on the ranch?"
Lee put his hands to his chin, thought for a moment, and looked at Dante with a serious expression: "You know I suck at relationships…"
Dante grew a bit concerned about his brother's attitude and nearly set aside the things he'd planned to discuss with the family. He sighed in frustration and said, "Do you know how many zeros are in the bank account I put in your name? Have you seen all the properties and businesses listed under your name? Brother, there's no better path for your girlfriend than you—and you should feel that."
John sighed from the living room. Everything Dante was telling his older brother was something he no longer had to say himself.
"Finish that Spanish omelet, I want to taste the disaster you're about to make," Dante said as he returned to the living room.
"Wait, I'm not done yet!" Lee rolled his eyes and kept going.
He kept talking for over a minute before raising an eyebrow and muttering, "Money doesn't matter in love."
"But power does, Lee. If I didn't have power, I wouldn't have been able to claim Susie in front of her father. And believe me when I say I have power—not the kind from money, but real power, the kind that can move mountains and rivers."
After saying that, Dante softened. "If she's not the right one, I'll find a girl who'll devote herself to you through a solid business deal."
"Are we doing this again?" Lee put the pan back on the stove and grabbed the spatula to keep chopping up the eggs.
"Haven't we already talked about this?"
"Alright, alright. The eggs didn't offend you, so treat them gently—you're about to ruin Dad's breakfast." Dante shook his head, looked at the horribly chopped eggs, and couldn't help but complain:
"Is this even edible?"
Lee shrugged, poured the contents of the pot onto a plate, and slid it toward Dante. "Eat it. This is a rancher's weekend life: there's no romance in it."
Dante quickly waved his hands and stepped back. "No, no, no, this 'masterpiece' is all yours—or Dad's."
Without meaning to, Lee's eyes landed on the plate of red radishes on the counter, and an idea crossed his mind.
"Make a salad."
Dante looked at the vegetables and said, "He's a cowboy, do you think Dad's going to eat veggies like a rabbit?"
"It's his diet."
John, who'd overheard the word "vegetables," grabbed his hat and walked out the door. "Now I can't eat meat in my own house… damn it…"