Page 41 of Old Money, Deadly Secrets

“We’re going to Monterey,” Dog said. “I have a clinic to run. And I have a hell of a lot of groveling to do.”

28 - MARGARET

The kitchen at Mountain View Farm was a high-performance engine, and by late January, Margaret had learned exactly how to keep pace with its gears. In her old life, a “large breakfast” was a curated affair handled by a silent catering staff. Here, it was a beautiful, rowdy symphony of sizzling cast iron, the rhythmic thud of Moose’s knife as he diced potatoes for a massive skillet of hash, and the constant, bright laughter of children.

The air was thick with the scent of maple-cured bacon, rising yeast, and fresh coffee. Despite the date on the calendar, the Virginia mountains were enjoying a suspiciously mild winter. The morning air was crisp and invigorating rather than biting, making it a perfect day for the expedition the men had planned.

“Bear, if you put one more piece of bacon on that plate, there won’t be enough for the kids,” Flora warned, though she was smiling as she swatted her husband’s hand away from the cooling rack.

“I’m fueling for the mission, Flo,” Bear rumbled, snatching the piece anyway and winking at Charlie, who was sitting at the counter watching the exchange with wide, fascinated eyes.

Today was a milestone for Margaret’s children. The men: Bear, Moose, Link, Jax, and Shadow were taking the entire younger generation out for a day of hiking, survival training, and fishing. It was a diverse group: Sammy and Rhys, who had been training with their fathers for years, were the tactical leads. Kenzi and Amelia were the seasoned middle-graders.

And then there were Charlie and Emily.

Margaret watched as Moose knelt beside Charlie, adjusting the straps on the boy’s small rucksack. Her son looked like a different child than the one she had known in Richmond. Gone were the tailored suits and the fear of a grass stain. Instead, he sported rugged canvas pants, a flannel shirt, and hiking boots caked with real mud. He wasn’t a “prop” anymore, he was a boy embracing the world around him.

“You ready, Charlie?” Moose asked with a grin. “We’re going to see if we can pull some trout out of the creek for lunch. Just remember to be quiet. Fish have ears.”

Charlie nodded, his brows furrowing in concentration as if he were preparing for a competition. “I’ll be as quiet as a ninja,” he declared with a fierce determination, a gleam of excitement shining in his eyes. Beside him, Emily clutched Kenzi’s hand, glancing around at the dense woods surrounding the farmhouse. “What if the fish are too smart for us?” she asked in a whisper, eyeing the tangled greenery.

“Then we’ll outsmart them!” Charlie replied, puffing out his chest. For two kids who had never been allowed to step off a paved path without a nanny’s watchful eye, the thought of getting dirty and catching their own food was a thrilling, terrifying frontier.

As the group gathered, Mike pulled Elena into a quick hug. Margaret stood close enough to catch his low whisper, “Take care with the cleaning and stay away from the harsh chemicals, okay?”

Elena’s quick glare was unmistakable, her voice sharp as she replied, “I am fine.” Yet even as the words left her mouth, a faint flush touched her cheeks. Margaret exchanged a curious glance with Flora; neither said a word, but the question hung in the air.

“Alright, move out!” Bear called, and the kitchen erupted into a flurry of discarded napkins and heavy boots.

Margaret stood on the porch with Flora, Elena, and Noor, waving until the last of the camouflage-clad figures disappeared into the treeline. The sudden silence that settled over the Farm was jarring, but it was quickly broken by giggling from the kitchen.

Link and Noor’s three-year-old twins, Yasmin and Amina, had stayed behind to help the ladies with the big house-prep. They were busy unloading pots and pans from the dishwasher while chattering away in a lively mix of Arabic and English. No one else could understand a word, but their animated conversation filled the kitchen as they carefully, if not always efficiently, put everything back in the cabinets.

“Peace at last,” Noor sighed, watching her daughters. “Now, we have work to do.”

Blast and Nova had finally completed their long-term rehab following the helicopter crash. After receiving their medical discharges from the Navy, they had spent time with their respective families. Now, they were ready to return to work. They were due to arrive in just a few days to join the Blue Ridge Protectors full-time, and the big farmhouse needed to be scrubbed, aired out, and restocked.

Armed with cleaning supplies, the ladies moved through the house while Eloise tackled the grocery list in the kitchen. Their conversation flowed with the easy intimacy of family as they divided the work, turning the big farmhouse back into a home.

While they were in the dining room, Elena paused mid-motion, dust cloth still in hand. Her eyes lit up as she gazed at a framed photo on the sideboard and exclaimed, “I love that you framed the picture from Mike’s mother’s wedding!”

Still staring at the picture, Elena said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “She has come a long ways in the two years since I first met her.”

Flora nodded, adding, “Her life has really opened up. I’m still amazed that she is married now.”

“She was so radiant standing there in her favorite meadow with all friends and family there,” Elena sighed softly.

Margaret turned her attention to Elena and Flora. “Who’s Nancy?”

Elena glanced at her, her face aglow. “She’s Mike’s mom. Nancy has non-verbal autism that her family and the town she grew up in didn’t understand. But now, with some new technology, she is able to communicate and has fallen in love and gotten married.””

Flora chimed in, “Yeah, she really showed her hometown that just because you’re quiet doesn’t mean you don’t have something to say. Nancy is the heart of Banner, Tennessee now.

Margaret nodded, absorbing the information. “Wow, that’s inspiring.”

Elena wiped a stray tear, giving a small, bashful laugh. “I think I’m just extra emotional lately. Everything makes me want to cry or grab a pint of ice cream.”

Flora stopped mid-stride, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Elena’s face. “Really?”