Once in a Blue Moon

by Diane Darcy

  Richard winked again, and she felt warm inside, which was ridiculous. It was bacon, not high fashion.

  “We’re back!” The kids walked in the open doorway, Jeremy juggling two tomatoes and Jessica holding a couple of cucumbers.

  “Oh,” Melissa groaned in ecstasy. “Real food.”

  She sliced the veggies and placed them beside the burnt potatoes in the center of the table. When the eggs were done to perfection, she slid them on a plate, then checked the bacon, but it didn’t look quite done. Undercooked meat was not a good idea in this century.

  Richard looked at her expectantly. “Ready?”

  “Yes, everyone sit down.”

  They sat and everyone dug in immediately as Melissa gazed at the fare, feeling pride, which in turn made her feel slightly ridiculous. Imagine feeling proud about such a lame meal. Eggs, potatoes, bread, butter and jam, and veggies. And bacon soon to come. “Is this the kind of food people here eat all the time? I mean, would they eat this in a restaurant?”

  Richard gave her an apologetic smile. “Well, we’re probably not going to be able to afford to eat out.”

  Jessica grinned. “Mom wants to know ‘cause she’s trying to get a job as a cook at the restaurant in town.”

  Richard’s brows rose. “What?”

  Jeremy reached for the jam. “Yeah, we went to town today. The only job opening in the whole place was for a cook. Mom’s going to try and learn so she can work there.”

  Richard stared at her in surprise. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She knew a job as a cook would be quite a step down for her. “It’s true. I’m going to get that job.”

  Richard shook his head. “I don’t want you getting a job. You’ll be busy enough with the kids, the cabin and the responsibilities you’ll have here on the ranch.”

  Surprise left her speechless for a moment. “I have to be employed. You know that.”

  “No.”

  Anger started to simmer. “You don’t make enough money. I’m getting a job.”

  Richard’s face heated and his eyes turned steely. “Learn to budget. This is too good an opportunity for you to pass up. Spend time with the kids while we’re here. You’re not getting a job.”

  Melissa leaned forward. “I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

  Richard glanced over at the stove and she followed his gaze. The bacon was smoking.

  She jumped up to find the meat burnt and crispy and turned to see Richard trying to hide a grin.

  The kids giggled.

  Richard shook his head at them and all three looked at her innocently.

  White hot anger made her hand tremble as she lifted the burnt meat onto a plate. “I will get that job.”

  “Sure, honey,” Richard said soothingly. “We know.”

  She slammed the bacon down in the center of the table, scraped out her chair and sat. She’d proved people wrong before. In fact, she’d been doing it her entire life. This would be child’s play.

  * * *

  Melissa woke feeling refreshed and optimistic. Despite the horrible mattress, she’d slept like the dead. Richard was already gone.

  She padded on bare feet across the cold linoleum to look into the loft. The kids were still sleeping.

  After getting dressed and running fingers through her thick, spiky hair and wishing for a bottle of gel, she opened the door and flung up an arm to protect her eyes from the bright morning sunlight.

  She made a quick trip to the outhouse, holding her breath as much as possible.

  On the way back to the cabin, she considered what to make for breakfast, but came up blank. The eggs were gone and they’d finished the bread at dinner. If breakfast was a natural for the evening meal around here, what did people eat in the morning? Stew?

  What she needed was to invent some Fruit Loops or something. The image of herself holding a bowl of cereal under a cow to get milk made her smile. It probably wasn’t yet time to introduce sugar cereal to the unsuspecting public, not when warm milk was the freshest option. Besides, once again, she’d need money to make money.

  She’d stick to her plan and ask for tips on cooking. She’d get a mentor of some kind. Someone who could teach her to cook from the ground up. Fast. If she didn’t hurry, the job would be gone.

  Up ahead, she noticed a woman, one of the welcoming committee, getting water at the pump. It was the chubby one who’d stomped off in a huff. Melissa took a few steps to the side and quickly hid behind her cabin.

  This was a perfect opportunity. The woman had made those aromatic cookies. No doubt she was a wonderful cook and could train Melissa. But how could she get her cooperation?

  Melissa bit her bottom lip. Too bad she couldn’t simply pay for the information like she’d normally do. You always knew where you stood with a person when money was involved. Perhaps she could offer an exchange of some kind? Maybe she could offer to sew a dress?

  Melissa glanced down. The dress she wore today was the yellow one. It was even uglier than the orange of yesterday. The lady would laugh in her face, something Melissa wasn’t willing to go through again. Ever. She sighed. Besides, she had nothing to sew with anyway.

  She wasn’t used to feeling uncertain about anything, and it annoyed her. Yesterday’s experience in town had been quite a blow to her ego, but she needed to shrug it off. Winners never faltered, no matter the opposition.

  Perhaps she should act as if the lady were a rich client and flatter her a bit? Except, she acknowledged, she’d rarely brown-nosed a client. Her high-brow attitude usually had them coming back for more, feeling she was exclusive.

  That wouldn’t work in this situation. After yesterday she needed to be more careful. She’d offended without even trying, so obviously the woman was very touchy.

  She sucked in a deep breath and lifted her chin. No more indecision. “I can do this. I know I can do this.” She gripped her hands. “Casual, friendly, that seems to work for some people, right?”

  She glanced down and noticed an old filthy bucket with some dirt caked in the bottom. Before she could change her mind, she grabbed it up, rounded the corner and hurried over to the water pump. I’m just out for a stroll, getting my daily bucket of water. That’s me, always so casual.

  Oh, and charming. She needed to be charming. She straightened her shoulders confidently. Within minutes, the lady would be begging to teach her. She stopped by the pump. “Hi.” She smiled her best smile.

  The lady looked up. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Kendal.” Her tone was arctic.

  Melissa ignored it. She could get around her. She tried to remember the lady’s name. “It’s Emma, right?”

  The lady set down her full water bucket, tucked a wisp of blonde hair behind one ear, straightened her shoulders and faced Melissa. “Actually, it’s Sarah Mendelson. But only my friends call me Sarah. You may call me Mrs. Mendelson.”

  Melissa’s brows rose. Well, okay then. This might be a tiny bit harder than she’d thought. She kept the smile in place and nodded. “Uh, yes,” she nodded again. “Right.” Apparently the hen’s feathers were still ruffled. An apology might be in order if Melissa were to get what she wanted.

  She cleared her throat and looked down at the shorter woman. “Um, about that little bit of unpleasantness yesterday. You completely misunderstood. And perhaps I wasn’t at my best.” Melissa smiled widely again, looking for signs that her apology had been accepted.

  Nothing, no softening whatsoever. Sarah crossed her arms, pushing her generous chest up and didn’t say a word.

  Perhaps an ice breaker of some sort? Melissa cleared her throat again and looked up at the sky. “So, it looks like we’re going to have a pretty nice day today, doesn’t it?”

  Sarah stared at her stonily. “I believe so. I expect that I remarked on that very thing to my husband when I was making his breakfast. Three hours ago.”

  Melissa winced inwardly. Apparently getting up late was a black mark on her character, but Sara
h had given her the perfect opportunity, and she’d take it. “Speaking of cooking, I was wondering if you’d consider giving me some cooking lessons?”

  Sarah’s disbelief was obvious. She tilted her head back, raised both brows and shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of doing any extra work, or of subjecting you to my unhealthy ingredients.”

  Melissa stared at the ground for a moment, then looked Sarah in the eye. “Look, you have to admit, you really did misunderstand. And I have no problem with working. In fact, I’m a very hard worker and --”

  ”I’m glad to hear that. The west side of the garden needs weeding today. Good day to you.” Gathering up her bucket, Sarah walked away.

  Watching her go, Melissa ground her teeth. Who did that fresh-faced farm girl think she was talking to? Melissa had lowered herself to apologize for something she hadn’t even done! What more did the woman want?

  Melissa threw the bucket down, but it landed in the soft grass, depriving her of a satisfying clatter. Why was nothing going her way lately? She was trying her hardest, but it felt like whatever she did and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to influence circumstances to go her way.

  Glancing around, she noticed another woman watching from the doorway of a cabin. The timid one. Melissa took a step toward her, but the woman quickly shut the door.

  Melissa felt a sting of hurt, which she quickly tried to shrug off. It was obvious she’d been excluded from the little Cowboy Wives Club. Big deal. That was fine. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been ostracized and it didn’t matter to her one whit. She still had options.

  Her eyes landed on the big ranch house. She’d just go and ask the housekeeper to teach her to cook. Hettie, wasn’t it? Or Hannah? Whatever her name, she was a mouse. Melissa could probably bully her into it within seconds.

  * * *

  Melissa knocked three times on the side door of the ranch house and the widow MacPherson answered, her tall, lithe frame filling the doorway. Decked out in a barely fashionable navy work dress, her thick salt-and-pepper hair upswept into a classical bun, she was an imposing figure.

  Melissa froze. Weren’t housekeepers supposed to answer the door? Especially the side door? Memories of her humiliation from the day before surfaced and her spine stiffened as her chin came up. “Good morning.”

  The widow studied Melissa’s yellow dress for a moment, her lips tightened, then she lifted her gaze. “What do you want?”Stung by the caustic tone and the rude delivery, Melissa was unwilling to let it go unchallenged. “What do you mean by that comment?”

  The widow’s wide-spaced blue eyes narrowed, causing her wrinkles to furrow. “Your kind always want something. You’re a taker.”

  Melissa’s mouth dropped open. She worked harder than anyone she knew. The injustice of the comment was too much to bear. “My kind? A taker?” Her own eyes narrowed. “I am so tired of the people in this community treating me like I’m poison,” Melissa shook her head. “You don’t even know me. How dare you presume to pass judgement on me like that?”

  The widow crossed her arms. “Did you enjoy the fresh vegetables from the garden last night? You didn’t work for them. You didn’t plant them. The least you could have done yesterday was help tend and water the garden since you’re enjoying the fruits of others’ labor. But did you? No. After insulting the good women who live here, you spent the day in town. You’re a taker and you reveal yourself with your every action.”

  “How dare you!” Melissa could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest. “You know nothing about me! I spent the entire day yesterday looking for a job to help support my family!”

  The widow raised a brow. “Not enough money in your pocket for your tastes? Your husband has a good job. Others make do on the same or less.”

  “But for how long is he employed? You gave no indication that this job was permanent,” Melissa was pleased to be able to throw that in the witch’s face.

  The widow paused, her expression showing some indecision. “Then I apologize. Your husband has proved himself capable and can have employment here for as long as he likes. Does that set your mind at rest?”

  The lady was trying to force Melissa into continued unemployment. It wasn’t going to happen. “If you’re implying that I should not seek a job, then you’re off your rocker. I need to work.”

  The widow let out a sound of derision. “As I said. I know your type well. Tell me. Who will watch your children while you work long hours elsewhere? Who will care for their clothes and cook their meals and teach them right from wrong?

  Who will tend the garden that you’re partially responsible for and that your family will eat from? Who will mother your children? You don’t care, do you? As long as you get what you want, everyone else can fend for themselves.”

  That stung, but Melissa didn’t let it show by so much as a tiny crack in her composure. Yes, she occasionally worried that her children were missing out because of her lack of parental skill, but she’d always more than lived up to her responsibilities by providing for them. Why did this woman care anyway? “Why do you hate me so much?”

  The widow’s features froze and her gaze dropped to Melissa’s dress. She hesitated, then sighed and met Melissa’s gaze once more. “To be fair, you simply remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. Someone I didn’t like very much.”

  She shook her head as if to dispel bad memories, and her laser-like gaze narrowed on Melissa once more. “Now, what do you want?”

  Melissa lifted her chin. She certainly wasn’t going to admit she was there for a cooking lesson. No doubt the witch would protest to helping Melissa in any way. “I met Mrs. Mendelson and she informed me that the west side of the garden needs tending. I was simply coming to ask the housekeeper the best way to water the garden since she seems to be the only person I’ve met here who doesn’t want to jump down my throat the minute I show my face.”

  The widow arched a brow, in obviously disbelief. “If you’ll wait by the garden, I’ll send someone to help you.”

  “Thank you.” Melissa smiled tightly and, as the door shut in her face, anger roared through her. Why did she feel she’d just been tricked into working in the garden? She turned and walked away from the ranch house, more determined than ever to get a job. No one was going to stop her.

  Her resolve to get information she could hold over the widow solidified. They’d soon see who would lord over whom. She needed to find time to go out to Sully’s and question him.

  Reminded of Sully, she realized that she knew at least one person who could cook. Stew and biscuits anyway. And he didn’t hate her either, which was suddenly a major plus in his favor despite his overall disgust factor.

  She’d go out to his place later that afternoon. In the meantime she resigned herself to working in the garden for a few hours.

  * * *

  Melissa knocked on the door to Sully’s cabin, but no one was home. Various animals roamed about the place as usual, but the dog was missing. Thank heaven for small favors.

  Feeling dejected, she sat on the stump beside the cabin door and looked down at her weed-stained hands, green etched into each line of every finger. No amount of time at the water pump had made any difference. They were disgusting.

  A holler had her looking up in time to see Jessica and Jeremy run across the yard at full speed toward the horse corral.

  Jessica wore a new dress. A brown-flowered calico that reached mid-calf, and sported a ruffle, as well as a pair of stockings. Her punk sneakers completed the outfit. Apparently one of the Cowboy Wives had supplied her with the clothes, and she looked like a cast member for Little House on the Prairie. Jeremy wore a hand-me-down shirt, worn at the elbows, and the jeans left by their unknown benefactor.

  Depressed that she couldn’t even clothe her own children, she watched as the kids jumped on the fence to pet the nasty, dirty animal. She didn’t even tell them to stop. By the time they left this horrible place, they’d all be so filthy they’d have to be
decontaminated anyway.

  Their laughter soothed her. She was a good parent. Look at how her children were playing. Heck, they were practically frolicking, they were so happy. What did that stupid cow know anyway? Nothing, that’s what.

  She’d totally discounted Melissa’s ability to work hard. Wasn’t she setting a good example for her children? Of course she was. She rubbed her forehead. So why, hours later, was she still upset? Was she selfish? A taker? Could she be a better parent?

  A goat wandered over and nibbled on Melissa’s sleeve, bleating its bad breath into her face. She pushed it away.

  Granted she needed to work, but most people didn’t see that as a sign of selfishness. If anything, it was a sign of independence. Independence that her children would do well to emulate.

  They were twelve. The widow had been talking like they were two. Care for them? Wash their clothes? Feed them? Heck, when she’d been twelve, no one had even bought her new clothes, let alone washed them. And any food she’d eaten had been purchased with welfare money. At least her children had never suffered that brand of humiliation.

  So what if they had to take care of themselves a bit. At least she didn’t make them wish for more.

  Melissa sighed. The problem was, it wasn’t just the widow. Nobody seemed to like her here. Back in her real life, at her real job, people liked her well enough. Didn’t they? Of course they did.

  Take her boss, for instance. Xavier liked her. Her brow furrowed. Well, while he certainly liked what her talent could do for his firm, he didn’t really like her.

  Her secretary? No, Stacy didn’t even pretend to like Melissa.

  But her co-workers, they liked her, didn’t they?

  Bernie? Bernie came into her office all the time. Melissa shook her head and forced herself to be honest. She’d always known Bernie was trolling for information. He used her, pumped her for the latest news, as she did him, but she couldn’t say he really liked her.

  She shivered in the warm afternoon air, wrapped her arms around herself, took a deep breath and held it. Could all the conflict she’d been facing these last few days somehow be her own fault? Didn’t anyone like her?