Wyoming Cinderella (Silhouette Desire)

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Wyoming Cinderella (Silhouette Desire) Page 12

by Cathleen Galitz


  Thinking of this woman as a long-lost relative did little to quash Ella’s desire to throttle her. She had changed out of her Paris peignoir into what Ella assumed could only be categorized as “lounging around with nothing better to do wear.” The woman clearly had a penchant for silk. The soft yellow material reminded Ella of butterfly wings. She longed to reach out and touch it herself, but worried her rough fingers would snag the fine cloth. Her own wardrobe was shameful in comparison. In addition to the shorts, T-shirts and sweats she had worn every day in place of the white maid’s uniform their houseguest seemed to expect, Ella owned only two dresses for social occasions. Her pajamas consisted of an oversize T-shirt, and in the winter, she staved off the cold with a pair of long johns.

  Frannie abandoned her breakfast and picked up the book Ella had set down. “If you wouldn’t mind hanging up my things, I’ll just take up reading where you left off,” she told her with a dismissive wave of her jeweled hand.

  Ella did mind. Very much, in fact, but she said nothing that would indicate how much it hurt her to see the children clamber into their aunt’s silken lap. Having never had the benefit of close relatives, she understood the sanctity of maintaining that special bond. Whatever else one could say about Frannie, it was clear that the affection she felt for her nephew and niece was real. Ella could not begrudge them that.

  It took over an hour to hang up and fold all the lovely clothes that Frannie had packed. Wherever she thought she was going to wear a silver-sequined evening gown in Backwater, Wyoming, was beyond Ella, but she indulged some of her own fantasies by holding the shimmering masterpiece up to herself in the mirror. Certain that such a gown looked better on Frannie’s more angular, model-like figure than her own, she relegated it to a hanger with a sigh. The price tag indicated not only that it had yet to be worn but also that the cost was more than Ella could even imagine spending on an entire wardrobe, let alone one unpractical dress, no matter who designed it.

  Later in the day she packed the children their usual picnic lunch in hopes of leaving their aunt behind with something more palatable than bologna sandwiches. Looking forward to some time away from their houseguest’s demands, Ella was dismayed when Frannie volunteered to “give her some time alone” thereby neatly substituting herself in Ella’s place. Apparently serious about getting down and dirty with the children, she had changed out of her silken concoction into a pair of twill pants and a matching angora sweater that Ella knew cost more than a month of waitressing wages could buy. Hawk joined them at the creek as Ella took her own sandwich to her room where she proceeded to add a wicked queen to a painting she was working on. That she was blonde with a figure like a cigarette was no coincidence.

  Dinner proved to be a strained affair. Frannie insisted that Ella set the big dining table rather than eating at the kitchen table as was their custom. She also firmly requested the use of the good china, which had grown “shamefully” dusty in the antique buffet cabinet.

  “What’s the use of saving it for a rainy day?” she asked, waving her arms about as if she were throwing confetti. Clearly every day was a party day wherever Frannie went. “Where we come from, presentation is just as important as the preparation of the food itself,” she told Ella.

  “Umm,” Ella responded, assuming by the plural “we” that Frannie meant Hawk and herself. She didn’t much appreciate feeling like she was being tutored in Snobbery 101. “Where I come from, it’s just about having enough to eat period.”

  Frannie looked startled by the very idea. Throughout dinner she had Ella jumping up every other mouthful to retrieve something or another from the kitchen. Every time Ella tried to sit down, it seemed Frannie would remember something else vital to the presentation of the meal.

  “You know, darling,” she said to Hawk over the clink of her cut glass wine goblet. “If you’re not careful Billy and Sarah will turn into barbarians out here in the wilds of Wyoming.”

  That well placed darling cut sharper than the knife with which Hawk used to carve the roast Ella had cooked. Never before had she felt the desire to plunge an eating utensil into another woman’s heart. She had originally planned on fixing a casserole for dinner, but Frannie had looked so truly aghast at the thought of actually being asked to consume such peasant food that Ella gave in to her request for a more suitable cuisine. She had never known anyone to turn up his nose at homemade roast, potatoes, carrots and fresh peach cobbler, but then she’d never been around anyone like Aunt Frannie before. As usual their houseguest’s compliments were saccharine, but her body language indicated that she may as well have been asked to sit down to dinner in the company of lumberjacks hunkered down around a stump with nary a napkin between them.

  “Mind you,” she began, “it’s not that I find it boring out here. Your home is utterly charming, Hawk, really it is. Now that I’ve seen it for myself, I can honestly see why you would choose to uproot your family and move them to such an idyllic setting. I just worry that the children are going to become so isolated here that they might lose those crucial social skills Lauren worked so hard to instill in them.”

  Ella gritted her teeth. It wasn’t up to her to point out that in a short while they would be enrolled in school and would have many opportunities to mix with other children of all social spheres. She was grateful when Hawk made the same observation.

  “Public school?” Frannie gasped, almost spilling her wine upon the recently starched tablecloth. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

  Hawk arched an eyebrow at his sister-in-law. “Does it help to know that I’m the product of a public school education?” he asked.

  In light of the delicate cough that was her only response, he did his best to allay her fears. “Will it make you feel better if I promise to look into private schooling?” Hawk asked her.

  Ella had a feeling the only thing that would suffice for Frannie was some exclusive boarding school far, far away. One with a pretentious curriculum and administrators forced to cater to parents who had a problem saying no to their children. She beat back the sense of outrage that thought evoked by reminding herself that she was only planning on staying long enough to pay her way through college. Certainly no one had ever implied this was going to be a permanent gig. If the thought of Billy and Sarah being shipped away to some snooty boarding school left a gaping hole in her heart, she would do well to remember that as an outsider she had no say in their upbringing.

  “Need I remind you, Hawk, that you could very well sell your company, enjoy the fruits of your labor and live very comfortably without the headaches of running a company from the boonies?” Frannie asked.

  As Hawk started to shake his head, she held up her hands to stop him from offering his standard explanation. “I know, I know,” she said, nonplused at his insistence that work gave life purpose. “If you’re bound and determined to make a go of it here, I’ve got a suggestion. I really would like to make myself useful around here and earn my keep in some small way or another.”

  Ella held her breath. It was hard enough trying to work around this woman when she was reveling in the role of pampered houseguest. She could only imagine what it would be like to assist her in some outside project. Exhausted from a long day of cooking and cleaning and waiting on Frannie, not to mention taking care of the children in her spare time, Ella wanted nothing more than to clear the dishes and fall into bed.

  “I’d like to throw you all a housewarming party. From what Billy and Sarah tell me, they are virtual strangers with their neighbors—their young nanny being the one notable exception.”

  She turned to Ella with what appeared to be genuine interest. “The children tell me your home is charming. You’ll have to give me a tour some day.”

  Ella doubted Frannie would allow her registered pets to board in such a humble abode. The thought of actually entertaining her there was enough to conjure up images of the Mad Hatter’s tea party. She tried to suppress a laugh at the thought.

  “In any case, as I said, if yo
u insist in living in such a remote place, Hawk, I think it would behoove you to meet some of the more influential people in the area. I’m sure there have to be some prominent ranchers and businessmen around who have children of their own with whom Billy and Sarah can associate. Surely you’re not the only eccentric millionaire running his company out here via modern technology. I understand the tax structure in this state is most advantageous. Perhaps we could even find a potential client or two hidden in the woodwork. Maybe I can honestly contribute something while I’m here.”

  Hawk looked bored with her suggestion that he mingle more. He had never struck Ella as a social climber, but then again she was sure he hadn’t achieved such incredible success by being shy and introverted either.

  “Maybe I could rustle you up a rodeo star or two,” Ella offered dryly.

  “Could you, dear?” Frannie gushed, completely unaware that the offer had been tongue in cheek. “That would be certain to provide some fascinating conversation. And maybe you could ask a couple of your more well-known artist friends to join us.”

  “This isn’t exactly Greenwich Village,” Ella told her without malice, “but I can always find a handful of starving artists who would love a free meal.” Phoebe immediately came to mind. Not only was she dying to meet the mysterious man for whom Ella was working, she was also sure to prove the life of the party. Not that the hostess was likely to surrender that title easily herself.

  “This really is not necessary, Fran,” Hawk interrupted, noting the look of horror on her face at Ella’s suggestion that she include a ragamuffin group of hippies on her guest list. “As much as I appreciate your intentions, I don’t think that—”

  He didn’t finish his thought. The disappointment shimmering in his sister-in-law’s blue eyes was enough to make him reconsider. “I don’t think that you’re going to find too many takers. This country is notoriously short on pretentiousness and long on independent thinkers.”

  “Just the kind of men I prefer,” Frannie cooed. “Quite frankly, I’ve grown bored with the boy toys in our set back home.”

  Hawk gave her an inquisitive look. “Are you actually thinking of settling down then?”

  Frannie snapped her manicured fingers in front of his face. “In a heartbeat—if I were to find the right man.”

  Ella thought she might heave what little of her dinner she had eaten. One would have to be completely thick-skulled to miss Frannie’s meaning. Clearly she wanted nothing more than to slip into her departed sister’s bed slippers. The only one present unaware of her not so subtle meaning was Hawk himself.

  “In that case, I’d be more than happy to have you plan as elaborate a party as you want. I bet Ella wouldn’t mind helping you either.” He smiled as benevolently as a king granting the court permission to plan a ball.

  I’ll bet you’re wrong, she longed to say. Of course, this was neither the time nor the place to act as the fly in the proverbial ointment which was likely why Frannie had made the suggestion at the dinner table with everyone present. Ella determined to make her feelings known to Hawk in a more private setting. Still, if there was any possibility that this shindig would hasten Frannie’s departure or preoccupy her time so that she had little inclination to continue pestering Ella, she was all for it.

  After doing a mountain of dishes, Ella announced that she was going to turn in early. No one tried to stop her. Frannie looked positively delighted by the prospect of tucking in her nephew and niece herself not to mention spending the remainder of the evening with Hawk. Ella was sorely disappointed that he didn’t bother stopping in to kiss her good-night, leaving her to wonder whether she had only imagined what they had shared just a few days ago.

  Had she been able to keep her eyelids open, she would have discovered him standing in her doorway observing her sleeping form with a look of undisguised tenderness on his face. Frannie caught it quite by accident herself.

  It had taken all her womanly wiles to entertain Hawk throughout the evening and stop him from assisting the hired help. Part of the reason she was so drawn to the man was the unmanicured edges that remained from his middle class roots. Unable to recognize a diamond in the rough, Lauren had struggled to make Hawk into something he wasn’t—a social dandy. If given half a chance, Frannie vowed not to make the same mistake. Her sister had been a fool running around on her husband with simpering Romeos who couldn’t compare to a real man like Hawk. After all, self-made millionaires with bodies to die for didn’t come along every day. That Hawk was more concerned about providing for his family and maintaining living wages for everyone on his staff meant far more to her than which fork he used at dinner.

  And so it was when she rounded the corner on some trumped up excuse to run into Hawk wearing her most elegant lingerie and saw him standing in Ella’s doorway like some moonstruck adolescent, Frannie knew she had to act fast. She’d be damned if she was going to be bested by an ill-educated servant with the social connections of a gnat. Once upon a time in his life, Hawk married her beautiful but shallow older sister not only because he loved her but also in hopes of advancing himself socially. Having accomplished all that he had with a woman who hadn’t believed in him, Frannie couldn’t imagine what he could do with a supportive, well-connected wife at his side. But she had every intention of finding out.

  Eleven

  From the cold reception Ella received from Frannie the following day, she could only assume that Hawk had spoken to her about laying off the orders. She could only assume because Frannie seemed even more intent than before to keep Hawk to herself. Ella considered it a mixed blessing. Their houseguest was so into planning her gala that she left Ella and the children alone for great blocks of time. On the down side, she was glued to Hawk’s side needing his constant attention. Ella couldn’t remember the last time they had been able to steal a moment alone.

  She caught sight of him on her way out the door after breakfast dishes were cleared and put away. He shot her a look of dismay over his morning paper as if to say “Don’t leave me!” as Frannie shoved a sheaf of ideas at him. Ella suppressed a giggle. Apparently she wasn’t alone in not understanding the importance of presentation regarding the food, theme and invitations of a party.

  “I’m taking the kids down to the creek to fish,” she told Hawk, hoping to make a fleet-footed exit before Frannie had a chance to detain her with a long list of chores. “Would either of you like to come along?”

  Frannie shuddered.

  “I’d love to,” Hawk rejoined.

  His eyes held her gaze across the space of the room. Without another word exchanged, he conveyed a sense of longing that left Ella breathless. I miss you! echoed in the clash of their eyes. Ella felt her heart trip over her silent tongue. How she longed to tempt him with a blanket spread out beneath the branches of a cottonwood and a sky as blue as cornflowers.

  Frannie intercepted the look which passed between them with one that narrowed her own eyes.

  “He can’t possibly,” she told Ella, sounding rather like his mother. “Not with everything we have to plan, but you go on and run along. I’m sure you and the children will all have a great time.”

  There was no mistaking the way in which she deliberately chose to lump Ella into the same category of a teenage baby-sitter just a few years older than her charges. Ella resisted the urge to stick her thumb in her mouth and play the farcical comment to the hilt. Perhaps it would be more fitting if she merely stuck her tongue out in a fitting juvenile protest. Instead she chose to punish her acerbic guest with a smile and a promise.

  “Hopefully we’ll catch enough to make a nice mess for dinner.”

  Hawk laughed at the horrified expression on Frannie’s face and explained that the term mess was a colloquialism that had nothing to do with dirty messes whatsoever.

  Ella caught a final snatch of their conversation as she headed outside to where Billy was struggling with a shovel to unearth enough worms to keep the fish jumping for hours.

  “And don’t
you forget gold diggers come in all ages and shapes,” Frannie said a little too loudly.

  Ella was tempted to point out that most gold diggers didn’t use actual shovels to dig up night crawlers but decided it wasn’t worth her energy. If Hawk didn’t know her any better than that, chances were he never would. Instead she decided to focus her attention on the excited faces of the two children she had promised to take fishing. Tucking her sketch pad under her arm, she led them across the meadow to a beaver pond that looked promising.

  A cover of clouds and a gentle breeze kept the day from being too hot. Having caught many a meal this way herself, Ella was not in the least squeamish about baiting a hook. She positioned the children on either side of her. They enjoyed each other’s company in the shade of a rocky inlet. Ella opened her sketchbook and immersed herself in drawing a bottle-blue dragonfly competing with a pair of butterflies for a branch of honeysuckle.

  The sight of a beautiful young woman helping his children catch their first fish caused Hawk’s eyes to cloud up. He thought about offering to let them use his heart as bait since Ella had single-handedly reeled that fighter in herself. She was presently engaged in shinnying up an ill-fated elm to release Sarah’s hook from an overhanging limb. With the sunlight spilling around her shoulders turning her hair the color of burnished copper, she seemed to him an angel. Why God would send a man as world-weary as Hawk a divine intercessor he’d never know. Right now it was enough to simply appreciate heaven-sent gifts.

  “I caught one! I caught one!” cried Billy, reeling for all he was worth.

  A minute later he was holding up an eight-inch brook trout that most grown anglers would have tossed back. Hawk suspected, however, that it would take a brave man indeed to wrestle that trophy from his son’s little hands.

  “Nice job, son,” he called from behind them, startling Ella so that she almost fell out of her tree.

 

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