Six Months in Montana (Montana Sweet Western Romance Series)

by Kelley, Pamela M.

  Molly took that as her cue to leave. "No, I was just going."

  "Okay then." She watched as Molly rinsed out her cup, placed it in the dishwasher and then walked quickly down the hall. Molly wondered exactly what Christian had told her about their marriage, because this woman wasn't exactly welcoming.

  Molly got ready, and then went off to spend the day visiting with her mother and aunt. They were having their morning coffee when she arrived. She accepted another cup, joined them at the kitchen table and told them about her first meeting with Mrs. O'Brien.

  "So, I don't think she likes me."

  "Linda's a nice person," her mother said. "A little stiff until you get to know her, but don't forget, she's been taking care of that family for over twenty years. She's not used to having another woman around."

  "I didn't think of that." Molly hoped Mrs. O'Brien would warm up to her; it would be a bit rocky if she didn't.

  She spent the rest of the day with her mom and Aunt Betty in Bozeman. They drove out there and had a great lunch at a local café, and spent the afternoon roaming around the shops, mostly window-shopping, but Molly did pick up a few cute tops and a new pair of cowboy boots. She'd noticed that people dressed more casually out here compared to New York, and just about everyone liked to wear boots. Molly found a buttery-soft caramel- colored pair that were the most comfortable she'd ever owned.

  She returned to the ranch at a few minutes past four, and called out hello to Mrs. O'Brien who was vacuuming the front hallway when she walked in. Mrs. O’Brien turned the vacuum off for a moment, muttered hello back and then raised an eyebrow at the armful of bags Molly was carrying.

  "Bargain shopping in Bozeman." Molly said apologetically, and then slunk upstairs to put her things away. Why did she feel guilty about enjoying an afternoon and doing a little shopping? Probably because it was something she so rarely did. She glanced at the clock in her room: Christian had said he'd be home around five. She had just under an hour and she needed to keep busy. She decided to venture down to the kitchen to make something delicious. Puttering around the kitchen always relaxed her.

  Mrs. O'Brien was nowhere to be found when Molly entered the kitchen, and then she heard footsteps directly above her. Good, she was on a different floor entirely, so she'd have the kitchen to herself for a bit. So, what to make? She opened the refrigerator and just stared inside it for a solid minute, contemplating her options. There was a package of ground beef, some eggs, parmesan cheese. She checked the cabinets in the pantry and found a large can of crushed tomatoes, onions, garlic, plenty of pasta and a loaf of bread. Perfect, she'd make her famous meatballs and sauce. It was one of her favorite meals and something that always came out great.

  She got the sauce started first, finding a large saucepan and a sharp knife and cutting board, and quickly peeled and chopped a large onion and a few cloves of garlic, then added them into the saucepan with a bit of olive oil, just enough to coat the bottom of the pan. She turned the heat on medium and then found a large mixing bowl to make the meatballs in.

  For the meatballs, she just dumped in the ground beef, cracked in an egg, tore up a few slices of bread and added a few shakes of Italian seasoning, and salt and pepper. She formed the meat into balls and baked them on a cookie sheet in the oven for twenty minutes, and then plopped them all into the saucepan to simmer for another twenty. She cooked up a box of spaghetti and was just pouring the pasta into a colander to drain, when Mrs. O'Brien and Christian walked into the kitchen together at the same time.

  "What are you doing?" Mrs. O'Brien's voice was oddly calm, and Molly suddenly felt nervous.

  "Just making dinner."

  "That's my job." She flung open the refrigerator and then turned back to Molly. "You used the ground beef," she accused.

  "I made meatballs."

  "I was going to make American Chop Suey. I was just about to start it so it would be ready for when Christian wants dinner." She glared at Molly and then glanced at Christian.

  "That's my fault. I don't think I told Molly that you usually do the cooking for me."

  "I always do the cooking," Mrs. O’Brien corrected.

  "I'm sorry," Molly apologized, then added, "so maybe today you get to go home early?"

  Mrs. O'Brien just grunted at that, then stomped off and, moments later, they heard the front door slam behind her.

  "I really don't think she likes me." Molly said again.

  "She just doesn't know you. She'll come around." Christian looked exhausted. Molly knew she would be too, if she'd started as early as he did.

  "Are you hungry?"

  "Not yet. I'm sure I will be by the time I change out of these clothes and finish up some paperwork in my den. Say, fifteen minutes or so? It smells great."

  Christian was back as predicted in about fifteen minutes, and looked much more comfortable in a pair of old sweats and a long-sleeved tee-shirt. Molly found a couple of shallow bowls and put some pasta and a few meatballs in each, and then they sat at the island bar.

  Christian inhaled his food and went back for more, before Molly was even half-done with hers. He hadn't mentioned if he liked the meatballs, but since he'd gone back for more they must have been okay. People usually raved about them. After they finished, Molly went to clear the dishes but Christian stopped her.

  "I'll do it. You don't have to wait on me," he snapped, and Molly sat back in surprise. She hadn't yet seen this grouchy, moody side of him. Molly had already put the rest of the meatballs and pasta in the refrigerator and cleaned the serving dishes, so all Christian had to do was to rinse their plates and put them in the dishwasher. She wondered if the stress of their arrangement was catching up to him.

  "Do you want to watch some TV?" he asked in a more friendly tone, and she nodded. She was starting to feel a bit awkward again—that sense of being displaced when you're a guest in someone else's house and you'd so much rather be home in your own bed, your own apartment. She sighed. There was still a good six months to go, she'd better settle in and make the best of it.

  She followed Christian into the family room and settled into one corner of the oversized leather sofa. Christian sat on the opposite far side and clicked on the TV. It automatically landed on a sports channel and a basketball game, and Christian watched for a minute before turning to Molly. "You probably don't really want to watch this though, do you?"

  Molly hesitated for a second; watching basketball on TV would probably be at the bottom of her list, but she wanted to be polite. "This is fine."

  Christian waited a second and then flicked the channel to see what else was on, before finally settling on Showtime and a new episode of Homeland. Molly smiled to herself. Christian must have remembered that she'd told him it was one of her favorite shows.

  A half-hour later, totally lost in the show, she happened to glance Christian's way and saw that he was sound asleep.

  ***

  After about a week, they settled into a routine of sorts. Molly had always been an early riser, but Christian gave that word new meaning. He was up before five most mornings and out the door a half hour later, off to meet his men on the ranch. He'd pop back by around seven or so, would grab a bite to eat, then head out again, stopping first at the Ford Builders office on Main Street, just a block down the road from Travis' law firm. Tricia, his office manager, would arrive by eight and they'd meet briefly to go over his schedule and any pending business from the day before. By eight-thirty, Christian was back on the road again and heading to one of their many development sites.

  Molly usually rose around six-thirty and joined Christian for coffee and breakfast around seven. After that, she often sat in the study for a bit, curled up in one of the soft club chairs and read the paper, while Toby slept at her feet. It was her favorite time of day, when the house was quiet and she had the whole day ahead of her to dream and plan for what Rose Cottage could become. She also tried to stay out of the way of Mrs. O'Brien, though after that first awkward day, they had settled into a truce
of sorts. Molly let her do all the cooking and raved about it each time. Molly could sense that Mrs. O’Brien was starting to thaw a bit; she'd even cracked a smile the day before. That was something.

  Sometimes Christian came home for lunch, but more often than not, she was on her own and just grabbed a quick sandwich or light salad, before heading to Rose Cottage for the afternoon

  In the past week, Christian's team of men had already started on the remodeling. They were tackling the upstairs rooms first, then would be converting the room over the garage and the family room on the first floor, turning each area into a small suite, everyone with its own bathroom.

  Molly was excited for today, because she was meeting with Travis's twin sister, Traci, to go over ideas for redecorating. Traci had stopped by Rose Cottage earlier in the week to see the space, and taken a bunch of pictures and measurements of all the rooms and windows. She'd suggested that they meet at the Morning Muffin around ten today to review what she'd come up with.

  Molly arrived a few minutes early and even though she'd already eaten breakfast with Christian, it was almost four hours ago so she didn't feel too guilty about having a snack. The lemon poppy seed scones looked amazing, so she ordered one along with a half decaf-half hazelnut coffee, and then settled at a roomy round table near the door.

  Traci walked in a few minutes later, carrying an oversized sketch book and a pretty Vera Bradley quilted briefcase. Molly waved her over and Traci quickly set her stuff down, then went off to the counter to place her order. She returned a few minutes later with a latte and a toasted sesame bagel with cream cheese.

  "I'm so glad we missed the breakfast rush, I'm starving!" Traci took a quick bite of her bagel, then opened her sketchbook and pulled a skinny Mac Air laptop out of her briefcase. Molly was entranced as Traci walked her through her designs and ideas for Rose Cottage. She alternated between showing her delicate drawings of each room, with the overall shape and feel that she had in mind, and actual pictures on the laptop of the colors, fabrics and tiles that she envisioned.

  "So, what do you think?" Traci asked nervously, as she closed the sketchbook. Molly hadn't yet said a word, and even realized she'd held her breath once or twice, paying close attention as Traci flipped the pages.

  "I'm in love! I'm just so impressed and in awe of what you do. I know what I like when I see it, but I couldn't begin to put it together like this. It's almost as if you read my mind, it's just perfect." The words poured out in a rush, as Molly was just so excited by what Traci had come up with. The colors were soft and welcoming and a bit luxurious. Exactly the feeling you'd want to have when you stayed in an upscale inn.

  "I'm so glad," Traci said, and then they discussed prices and timelines, and agreed to get started right away. They chatted a bit longer, had just made arrangements to meet the following Monday to head to the fabric shop Traci favored, when suddenly Traci stopped talking mid-sentence, then leaned in and spoke softly, "Christian's ex just walked in, and it looks like she's heading this way. Have you met her?"

  Molly nodded yes, and glanced up as Isabella approached the table. She smiled and spoke first, "Hello Isabella, so nice to see you again." Isabella stopped for a moment, perhaps a bit surprised that Molly had spoken first, but she quickly recovered.

  "I understand congratulations are in order," she said smoothly. "It seems like you've made yourself right at home here. Married life must agree with you?" The words were friendly enough, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Molly sympathized though. It couldn't have been easy having your boyfriend ending things so abruptly, and then marrying someone else in a matter of weeks. Molly suspected that although Christian had said it was never serious between them, Isabella might have had a different idea about that.

  "So far so good," Molly said, with a polite smile.

  "Glad to hear it, and we'll be seeing both of you soon at Daddy's annual barbeque next weekend? I'm sure Christian told you what a big deal it is?" That threw Molly, because it was actually the first she'd heard of it.

  "Of course he did," she lied smoothly. "We're both looking forward to it." Traci kicked her under the table, and Molly couldn't look at her until Isabella had safely walked out the door.

  "Christian hasn't even mentioned it yet, has he?" Traci commented.

  "Was it that obvious?" Molly asked, wondering if Isabella had picked up on her hesitation, as well.

  "No, I don't think so. You covered well."

  "So what is this barbeque all about? Is it really that big a deal?" And why hadn't Christian mentioned it?

  "It is kind of a big deal. Just about everyone in town will be there."

  "Are you going?"

  "I wouldn't miss it. There's always some kind of drama going on there and it's great for networking."

  "Well, at least if you're going, I'll know one person there."

  "I'm sure your mother and aunt will be there too."

  "Really? Funny that they haven't mentioned it, either."

  "I wouldn't be concerned about it. They probably just assume you know about it and are planning to go."

  "Right, that must be it." Molly agreed, acting like it was no big deal that her family and husband had failed to mention a huge party thrown by his ex-girlfriend.

  Chapter 6

  Molly drove straight to her mother and aunt's house after she left the Muffin. She was going to wait to talk to Christian at dinner later. But, until then, she had nothing else pressing to do and the empty hours ahead made her feel antsy and restless. Even if she didn't get answers, at least she could kill time catching up with her mother and aunt.

  They were just sitting down to lunch when Molly walked through the door. Her mother looked startled. "Well this is a nice surprise!"

  "Perfect timing! We were just about to eat,” Aunt Betty chimed in. “Your mother made a big batch of clam chowder; your favorite, if I remember?"

  Molly was about to say she wasn't hungry, but then as her stomach rumbled realized she was a bit. Though she'd nibbled on a scone, she and Traci had spent the better part of two hours going over designs. The time had flown.

  "I was just in the area, at the Muffin, meeting with Traci about the Rose Cottage decoration," she explained, as her aunt filled a soup bowl generously with creamy chowder, put a dollop of softened butter on top, a shake of paprika and pinch of chopped fresh parsley. Her mother's gift was cooking, and her aunt was all about the show, how the dish was presented. They were quite a team.

  Between bites of chowder, she filled them in on the plans for Rose Cottage. After they’d finished and had moved on to tea and slices of Aunt Betty's famous coffee cake, Molly waited until they were happily full and chatting comfortably about what all their friends were up to. Aunt Betty knew everything about everyone it seemed, so it was really all the more curious why neither of them had mentioned Isabella's party.

  "So, I hear you're both likely to be going to Isabella's big bash next weekend? Is that true?"

  Her mother shot her aunt a look that Molly knew well. Though she didn't say a word, her accusatory glance was crystal clear.

  "I didn't say a thing," her aunt protested.

  "But why keep it a secret?" Molly asked her mother.

  "It's not a secret, as you've probably heard by now; just about everyone we know in town will be likely be there."

  "My point exactly," Aunt Betty interjected. "Your mother made me promise not to say anything to you about it, and as you can imagine that hasn't been easy," she said with a chuckle.

  "I just didn't want her to say anything until you mentioned it to us. Christian hasn't told you about it yet, has he?"

  "No," Molly admitted.

  "I figured as much. Honey, he probably just hasn't decided whether or not it's worth the aggravation of going, and wants to spare you any possible awkwardness. Isabella can be a bit unpredictable."

  "Not to mention dramatic," Aunt Betty agreed.

  "You're probably right," Molly said.

  "So, now that she kn
ows, let's discuss what we're going to wear." Aunt Betty and her mother debated their options, while Molly let her mind drift, wondering if her mother was right about Christian's reason for not mentioning the party.

  Mrs. O'Brien had the day off, so Molly spent the late afternoon puttering around the kitchen, making a meat sauce and putting a lasagna together. She had just pulled it out of the oven when Christian walked through the door.

  His usual routine was to head straight upstairs to change when he was done working for the day, and then join her for dinner in the kitchen. Today, however, he didn't even step into the kitchen, just poked his head in the door and asked, "Want to see something amazing? Mandy's in hard labor. The foal will be here soon, so we need to go quickly."

  Molly grabbed a light jacket and followed Christian out the door. The barn where the ranch horses were kept was about a half mile down the road, so they hopped into his Jeep.

  "Have you ever seen a live birth before?" Christian asked. His excitement was contagious.

  "No, never." Years ago, Molly’s family had a cat that gave birth to a litter of kittens, but she'd taken care of it herself, clearing a space in the closet and only making a sound after all six babies were born.

  "Mandy's been with us for three years now. She's one of our best work horses. Dr. Jones is on his way, just in case we run into any issues."

  They parked and went into the stable, where Mandy was surrounded by several of Christian's men who were keeping her calm, as she seemed agitated.

  "How's she doing?" Molly picked up a note of nervousness in Christian's voice.

  "About the same," his foreman, Kevin Anderson answered. "Doc coming?"

  "He's on his way." Christian walked up to the pretty golden-colored horse, who nuzzled his arm when she saw him and let out a sad whimper.

  "I know, baby. It'll be better soon, I promise," he murmured to the horse, as he gently stroked her back and rubbed her neck.