Nivens? Brad Jeffers, here. You don’t know me, but I’m the one who wanted to book a trip to the ranch for one of out clients. I’m with the Last ...ish Foundation. I got the message you gave our receptionist, and wanted to talk to you a little more about this. I’d really like for you to reconsider.”Bob sighed, and repeated his concern that a sick young girl probably wouldn’t do well on a working ranch.“Mr. Nivens,” said Brad, “I’ve been over your brochure, and talked to one of your former. And wasn’t remotely surprised that the drive was empty, with no sign of Jill’s car there. Still absent, just like when I’d arrived home two days ago on Friday night and I’d patiently waited at home before heading out and watching her first try-out as a club manager.I smiled a wry smile to myself. Of course, she wasn’t back yet. Unlike Veronica, Jill had outgrown her motherly responsibilities and only had a husband to come home to now, our kids having all flown the nest. Why wouldn’t she make. More

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