Already Home by Vicki Lewis Thompson

1
    L ANGFORD H UTCHINSON HAD been known as Hutch ever since he’d turned five and demanded a better handle from his parents, Ronald and Susan. They’d named him Langford after a long-dead ancestor who’d been the first Hutchinson to settle in Shoshone, a little town in the Jackson Hole area of Wyoming.
    But that bit of history hadn’t carried any weight with their only son. Even at five he’d known that a name like Langford would get his ass kicked once he started school and he’d wanted to avoid that.
    Other than objecting to the unfortunate name choice, Hutch hadn’t quibbled much with his parents over the years. But as he stood behind the counter of the Shoshone Feed Store trying to make sense of the day’s receipts collected by his father, his frustration escalated into the red zone. No wonder his mother had handled all the transactions.
    But she’d been gone for more than a year, a year in which Hutch had put his career as a California-based videographer on hold. He’d come home to help his grief-stricken dad with the store. Truthfully he’d needed some time off to grieve, as well, so it had been a logical move, and his dad loved having him there.
    Unfortunately Ronald also insisted on being in charge of the cash register, a job for which he had no talent. Consequently Hutch had spent countless afternoons tearing his hair out trying to reconcile the receipts. They had the same goal—for Ronald to learn how to run the store properly so Hutch could go back to his career. But Ronald wasn’t a numbers guy and should probably sell the business.
    He didn’t want to for many reasons, and Hutch understood that. Losing his wife of forty years was tough enough without losing the store, too. It gave his dad a sense of identity and social contact, both of which he needed right now.
    But honest to God, some days Hutch felt like heading back to California and letting his dad sink or swim. He couldn’t make himself do it, but something had to change.
    For the first few months he’d been helping out, his dad had been there at the end of the day to answer questions about the mess he’d created. Recently, though, Ronald had developed the habit of strolling around town an hour or so before closing time, probably to avoid having to explain his screwups to his son.
    Yesterday Hutch had bought walkie-talkies and handed one to his father with instructions to carry it during his afternoon ramble. Time to test that program. Picking up his unit, Hutch paged his dad. When a cheerful beep sounded from under a stack of papers beneath the counter, Hutch used up most of the swear words he knew as he crouched down and pulled out the useless walkie-talkie his dad had left there.
    “Got a problem?”
    He recognized that voice. Glancing up, he met a familiar brown-eyed gaze. He hadn’t seen Katrina Bledsoe in years, but she still had the power to set his pulse racing. He’d always had a thing for her, but she was the little sis of Nash Bledsoe, his good buddy, so he’d restrained himself.
    He stumbled a little in his haste to stand up. “Hey, there, Trina! I didn’t know you were back in town.” She’d cut her hair, and he missed the long ripple of it, but the color was still a glossy brown and the short bob looked good on her. He automatically checked her left hand. No ring. Nice to know.
    She blessed him with one of her wide, happy smiles. “Just got in today. It was past time for a Mom visit. She comes to New York a fair bit, but I haven’t been back here in way too long.”
    “Still training those thoroughbreds for the racing circuit?”
    “Yep. Exciting stuff. Livingston Stables had a horse finish third in the Derby this year.”
    “That’s awesome, Trina.”
    “Yeah, it was quite a thrill for all of us. We have a tight-knit bunch of trainers. They’re covering for me now, but I have to go back at the end of the week. So what’s up with you? I just talked to your dad, and he told me that you—”
    “You talked to my