“That’s a good idea.” Hannah looked over her sister’s shoulder at Holly’s wedding file. “What about the bagpipes?”
Holly’s family originally came from Scotland. After her parents divorced, her dad moved back to the Highlands. Instead of a traditional bridal march, she wanted to walk down the aisle with her dad to the sound of the bagpipes.
“All sorted. There’s a Scottish pipe band in Billings. I’ve booked one of their bagpipe players.”
“That’s awesome.” Hannah pointed to the next big item. “I talked to Annie about the catering. She can provide all the food and staff for the wedding. All she needs is the final list of what we want.”
Claire opened her spreadsheet. “Already done. Holly and Daniel signed this off earlier today.”
“That was quick.”
“They don’t have a lot of choice. Daniel’s in the middle of launching a new computer program and Holly is furiously painting.”
Hannah sipped her coffee as she quickly read the next few entries. “We’ve organized a lot in the last couple of days.”
Claire grinned. “We’re not called the dynamic duo for nothing. When are you going to the McConachies’ ranch?”
“Pat wants me to start as soon as possible. If it’s okay with him, I’ll go there after I’ve taken you to the airport.”
“Tomorrow?”
Hannah nodded. “As long as the road isn’t closed, I should be there by three o’clock.”
“It looks as though we’ll both be busy before Christmas.”
“When haven’t we been?” Hannah sighed. “Have you heard from mom?”
“No, but I didn’t expect her to call. You know what she’s like.”
“I know, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her to change.”
Claire gave her a hug. “It’s not going to happen. I don’t even know where she’s living.”
Neither did Hannah, and that worried her more than not hearing from her. Even at her worst, they always had their mom’s address and phone number. But something had happened a few months ago and she’d completely disappeared.
Claire gave her another hug. “Don’t be sad. We’ve still got each other.”
Hannah took a deep breath. Claire was right. For now, they had each other. And after a lifetime of watching their mother self-destruct, that was all that mattered.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hannah drove through the gates of the Double Circle Ranch. Claire’s plane, packed to capacity with people heading to San Diego, had left on time. It would be a long week without her. In more ways than one, the job at the McConachies’ ranch had come at the right time.
She drove slowly, enjoying the last of the afternoon sunlight. When she saw the main homestead, she smiled. With its high-pitched gable roof and lovely dormer windows, the McConachies’ home was story-book perfect.
She parked her truck and lifted a suitcase and a backpack out of the cab.
The front door of the house opened and Pat walked toward her.
She smiled at her new boss. “I made it.”
“I’m glad. I was worried the road might have been closed.”
Hannah swung her backpack over her shoulder and picked up her case. “It’s still okay, but I don’t know for how long. I like your home.”
He smiled and took her suitcase out of her hand. “It has been in my family for three generations. Over the years we’ve added more land, but this part of the ranch hasn’t changed. Come inside. It’s too cold to be out here for more than a few minutes.”
Claire followed Pat up the porch steps and into his warm home.
“You can leave your jacket and scarf on the coat stand. Mrs. Bennett has given you the bedroom at the top of the stairs. I’ll take you there before showing you everything else.”
The entranceway was just as impressive as the outside of the house. The tall, vaulted ceiling gave the area a sense of space. But it was the paintings that made Claire stop and stare.
Her mouth dropped open as she read the signature on one of the canvases. “Thomas Cole?”
Pat smiled. “That is one of our treasures. Ida always admired his work.”
Thomas Cole was a romantic landscape painter from the early nineteenth-century. With his gentle blend of color, his paintings brought the American wilderness to life.
“He inspired a whole generation of landscape artists,” Claire murmured. “They were known as the Hudson River School.”
“We have another of his paintings in the living room. At the time, I thought Ida paid far too much for them, but one of his oil paintings recently sold at auction for twenty-five thousand dollars. In my humble opinion, that painting wasn’t as good as the canvases we have here.”
Hannah held onto the banister as she slowly followed Pat upstairs. He told her about the other paintings on the wall, when they’d bought them, and why Ida liked them.
Her heart pounded when she saw the small canvas on the landing.
“Do you recognize this painting?” he asked.
“It’s called The Boat Builders. I wrote a whole paper about Winslow Homer when I was at college.” The watercolor showed two young boys sitting on rocks at the edge of the ocean. Hannah always imagined they were getting ready to launch their small boats in the rock pool, dreaming of sailing the full-sized ship on the horizon.
She moved closer, studying the painting in a way she’d never been able to before. “I saw some of Winslow Homer’s paintings at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. He’s an amazing artist.”
Pat nodded. “Ida enjoyed his paintings enormously. Before she had her stroke, we visited the Portland Museum of Art. They’ve restored Homer’s house and studio. It was one of the highlights of our vacation.”
Hannah looked down the staircase at the paintings. “I can’t believe you have so many amazing paintings. Do you ever worry that something will happen to them?”
“Ida bought these paintings to enjoy. If we worried about them, we wouldn’t enjoy them.” Pat led Hannah toward a room further along the landing. “This is the bedroom Mrs. Bennett thought you’d like.”
Hannah walked into the room and sighed. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” The pale pink walls and floral curtains were soft and feminine and very pretty.
“Where would you like me to leave your suitcase?” Pat asked.
Hannah patted the quilted bedspread. “On here will be fine.” She carefully placed her backpack beside the dresser and looked through the window.
“Big Sky Resort is straight ahead of you,” Pat said as he stood beside her. “My ranch runs up to the edge of the resort and heads west and east for as far as you can see.”
“You live in a beautiful part of Montana.”
“It’s even better in the fall,” Pat said as he walked toward another door. “This is your bathroom. If you need extra towels, they’re in the closet in the hallway.”
Hannah stared at the huge bath and shower. “You’re spoiling me. Claire and I own a little three-bedroom cottage with one tiny bathroom.”
“I’m glad you’re happy. Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“That would be wonderful. I’m looking forward to cataloging your paintings.”
Pat waved her through the bedroom door. “We never thought our collection would fill our home. We started with one small painting and only stopped when Ida moved into the retirement village.”
He looked so sad that Hannah reached out and touched his arm. “I borrowed a digital camera from a friend. It takes the most amazing photos. I’m sure Mrs. McConachie will enjoy seeing her paintings again.”
“I hope so, too,” Pat said as he patted her hand. “Let me show you the study. It’s one of my favorite places in the house. Are you still planning on painting in the afternoons?”
Hannah nodded. “I brought one of my unfinished canvases with me.”
“While we’re looking around the house, if you think any of the rooms will make a good studio, let me know. I want you to be
comfortable while you’re here.”
As they passed another painting, Hannah smiled. Being on Mr. McConachie’s ranch was like opening an early Christmas present. She didn’t know what was inside, but she knew it would be special.
***
Brett sat on the bench seat in Pat’s mudroom. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Today had been one of those long, hard days that seemed to drag into forever.
A cold nor’wester was kicking up a storm, sending most of their cattle straight into the windbreaks they’d built through the summer.
During winter, they were down to a skeleton staff. That meant a lot of early mornings and, if this storm built into what was predicted, long days of fixing fences and rounding up stray cattle.
He pulled off his boots and sighed. For the first time in a long while, the restlessness that had driven him around the world had resurfaced. Figuring out what was causing the bone-deep unease had kept him awake for most of the night. He’d woken tired and grumpy. The last thing he needed was a roving herd of cattle heading into the mountains.
Taking a deep breath, he smelled the casserole Mrs. Bennett had cooked. He’d speak to Pat, then take his dinner home. A hot shower and an early night would put his life into perspective and give him one less thing to worry about.
“Is that you, Brett?”
He walked into the kitchen and smiled at Mrs. Bennett. “It is. I thought you were finishing early today.”
“So did I until I heard about our guest. I wanted to make sure Pat didn’t burn dinner, so I thought I’d supervise his cooking skills.”
“I’m not that bad,” Pat grumbled as he took four glasses out of a cupboard. “I haven’t set fire to anything.”
Brett didn’t think it was a good time to point out that they’d come close a couple of times. “Who’s staying here?”
Pat cleared his throat. “I was going to say something sooner, but I thought I’d wait until the time was right.”
Brett smiled. “Is Ida’s sister staying with you again?”
Pat ran his hand around the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”
The front door burst open and a woman rushed into the kitchen. “You’re not going to believe what I just saw.” She glanced at Brett and smiled. “Hi, Brett. There’s a bald eagle circling above the barn.”
“That will be Oscar,” Mrs. Bennett said. “He visits us a couple of times a week.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “You’ve given him a name?”
“He’s here so often that he’s almost part of the family.”
Brett stared at Hannah. He couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d been blown over by a tornado. She was standing in Pat’s kitchen, looking for all the world like she belonged there.
Hannah rubbed her hands together. “It’s lovely and warm in here. It’s really cold outside.”
He frowned as she took off her jacket. Hannah had looked gorgeous in her Christmas elf and caroler costumes but, in her blue jeans and sweater, she looked even better. She was cute, and cuddly, and everything that would keep him awake tonight.
Hannah looked at him, then at Pat. “Is everything okay?”
Pat glanced at Mrs. Bennett.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Mrs. Bennett growled. “Sometimes I wonder if the Good Lord was short of common sense when you two men stood in line.”
A blush snuck up Pat’s neck. “Hannah is staying with us for a few days, Brett. She’s cataloging our art collection.”
Brett knew exactly why Pat looked uncomfortable, but he wasn’t ready to let him off the hook that easily. “Why Hannah?”
As soon as Hannah’s eyebrows rose, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. She thought he was questioning her ability to do the job, but that wasn’t what he meant. The McConachies knew almost everything about him and they were an important part of his life. But some things, like any current or future relationships, were off limits—even to Pat.
Hannah crossed her arms. “I’m more than qualified for the job. I majored in art history at MSU, I write a monthly arts column for the Bozeman Chronicle, and I enjoy painting.”
Mrs. Bennett handed Brett a dishtowel. “After you’ve taken your foot out of your mouth, you can take the casserole out of the oven. Then I suggest you have a shower. You’re eating here tonight.”
Brett took the dishtowel and opened the oven door. He knew better than to argue with Mrs. Bennett.
“And you,” She pointed at Pat, “will make sure Hannah has everything she needs to catalog the paintings. I know how meddlesome you can get. Don’t interrupt what she’s doing or the poor girl will be here until next Christmas.”
Pat opened a cupboard and pulled out four placemats. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
Mrs. Bennett pursed her lips. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” She smiled at Hannah and handed her some napkins. “While Brett has a shower you can tell me about your business. Pat said you co-own an event staging company?”
Hannah glanced at Brett.
His heart sank when he saw the disappointment in her eyes. She thought he didn’t want her here, but that was the last thing on his mind. He folded the dishtowel in half and left it on the counter.
In a last-ditch attempt to right his wrongs, he cleared his throat, interrupting whatever Hannah was about to say. “I’m glad you’re here. Pat should have had his collection revalued a long time ago. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”
Pat coughed and turned a little too quickly toward the living room. “I’ll be back soon.”
Mrs. Bennett bustled past them with a bowl of bread rolls in her hands. “Hannah will do an amazing job. Brett, you’ve got ten minutes until dinner’s ready.”
He sighed. Hannah deserved more of an explanation, but that would have to wait until later. “I’ll be back soon.”
The twinkle in Mrs. Bennett’s eyes made him feel a little better. “You do that. Now, shoo. Hannah and I have things to discuss.”
He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but as long as he wasn’t included in their conversation, he was happy.
***
After they’d finished dinner and the dishes were done, Hannah sat in the living room, listening to Brett and Pat talk about the ranch. Mrs. Bennett had gone to bed half an hour ago.
“You must be tired of hearing about cattle numbers and feed supplies,” Pat said to her.
“Not at all. It’s interesting. I don’t know how you manage to keep all of your cattle fed and in one place when the weather is like this. It must be difficult.”
Brett picked up his coffee mug. “The herd generally sticks together. It’s only when a fence is down that we have problems.”
“Like today,” Pat added. “If this snow keeps falling, we’ll have to shovel our way out of the house.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Brett murmured.
Pat nodded. “We’ve talked about the ranch for long enough. Tell me about cataloging Ida’s paintings, Hannah. Is there anything you need to get started?”
“I brought most things with me, including my laptop. The only thing I might need is a ladder. Some of the paintings are too high for me to measure easily.”
“I’ll get one out of the barn in the morning,” Brett said. “Do you need someone to help you?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Pat yawned. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m off to bed. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Hannah stood as well. “I’ll go to bed, too. Thank you for a wonderful dinner.”
Pat smiled. “It was Mrs. Bennett who made the casserole. All I did was reheat it.”
“You did a great job.” She picked up her coffee mug. “Goodnight, Brett.”
He pulled himself out of the sofa and she sighed. He hadn’t said much to her all night. If he still didn’t think she had the ability or intelligence to catalog the paintings, it should have been his problem and not hers. But for some reason, his opinion was important.
“Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?”
She almost didn’t hear Brett’s softly spoken question. Pat was already in the kitchen, rinsing his mug. It was late. She wanted to start work early in the morning. And there were probably a lot of other reasons why talking to him wasn’t a good idea.
“I want to apologize.”
Hannah turned around.
Brett stood with his hands in his pockets, looking as uncomfortable as she was. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I wasn’t questioning your ability to catalog Ida’s paintings.”
“What did you mean?”
Brett took a deep breath. “Pat was trying to play matchmaker at the carol competition on Sunday. He thought I should have asked you on a date. I was worried that he wanted you to work here so that we could get to know each other.”
Hannah didn’t know what to say. “I asked Pat why he wanted me to help him. He knew about my art history degree from when I was looking after Ida. He said he wanted someone he could trust to compile the spreadsheet. Are you sure he had an ulterior motive?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but it’s extremely likely.”
“Oh.” It would have been funny if she wasn’t the person Pat had decided would be a good match for Brett.
“I hope you still want to stay here. From what you’ve said, it sounds as though you would enjoy cataloging the paintings.”
Hannah nodded. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s not often you see paintings like Ida’s hanging in someone’s home. Most of the time they’re in galleries and museums.” While they were being honest with each other, Hannah wanted to tell Brett something, too. “I told Pat that I wouldn’t accept any payment for helping him.”
The Gift (The Protectors Book 6) Page 4