by Carol Ross
“Hey!” she cried as one pecked at her toe. “Umm, hi.” A pretty gray-and-black one hopped right into her lap.
“Shoo, shoo.” Gen waved away the bird.
Abby grabbed one of the overturned buckets. She plunged her hand inside and tossed some grain toward the far side of the coop. The chickens scattered. Sweet relief.
“You should wear boots,” Gen said, staring down at her feet with a knowing expression.
Lydia found herself giggling. Nothing like the most obvious answer to a problem. Five-year-old logic was awesome.
“Thank you, Gen. That is wonderful advice. And I plan to just as soon as I can get some new ones. You’ve seen my boots. I don’t think they’d do too well out here in the chicken pen.”
“Nope. You’d get stuck for sure.” Gen held out a foot. “We get our boots at Brewster’s.”
Gingerly, Lydia climbed to her feet. She examined the scratches on the top of her foot from where it had slid under the wire fence. Thin lines of blood were forming. Not overly painful, but they’d need a good disinfecting.
“Brewster’s, huh?”
“Yep. Brewster Ranch Supply. It has lots of other stuff, too. It’s the greatest store there is.”
Abby helpfully offered, “You should always throw a handful of feed in the back of the coop before you open the gate.”
“That is also incredibly wise. I will do that from now on, thank you, Abby.”
Abby grinned and held up the basket in her hand. “Come on, we’ll show you how to gather the eggs.”
It was a chore Lydia knew involved more than scooping up a cardboard container from the refrigerated section. As it was a specific task her new boss had listed, Lydia nodded with much more confidence than she felt. “Let’s do it. Do we need gloves? Those beaks look pretty sharp.”
* * *
GATHERING THE EGGS had proven to be a relatively simple task. And chickens, she discovered that evening, were all over the internet. The pecking-order phenomenon was fascinating and a little brutal. She learned about their nutritional needs and what made their eggshells hard and how to properly store the eggs.
The goats were cute and docile. Their job was to eat the grass and brush that grew up around the house and barnyard during the spring and summer months. All Lydia had to do was feed and water them, let them out in the morning and put them in their stall in the evening. Jon often accomplished the latter on his way to or from the cattle.
Funny how dramatically footwear could impact a person’s life, though. Studying the calendar, she placed several orders online, which included teaching supplies, items for the girls and clothing and boots for herself. The rural address precluded the express shipping option and she could only hope they arrived quickly. In light of the chicken-coop incident, she knew she needed shoes with traction before she could tackle the gardening or venture out any farther than the chickens and goats. Flip-flops just didn’t cut it.
Each night, after getting the girls tucked in, she headed to her room and spent a few hours researching—goats, cows, chickens, cattle ranching, composting, gardening in Montana and especially child development and pre-K education.
Of all the things Jon had rattled off on his list of demands, it was the teaching one that caused uncertainty to gnaw at her insides. Working at the group home, she’d spent untold hours tutoring teens. Lydia felt confident she could shift to kindergarten, but she needed some knowledge and the right tools.
Lydia found construction paper, pencils and crayons as well as a bucket of craft items, glue sticks and kid-friendly scissors. As the girls drew, cut, colored and glued, Lydia quizzed them on everything from letters and numbers to shapes and colors. Both the girls were incredibly bright and so inquisitive Lydia suspected she was going to learn as much as them when she tried to answer all their questions. But Jon was right about Gen; she was behind when it came to her letters and numbers. She’d developed a habit of letting Abby take the lead and supply the answers for her.
Early one afternoon, a few days into her trial period, Lydia sketched out a couple of bunnies and left the girls to color them while she headed into the kitchen. She was making a large pan of macaroni and cheese when she heard the door open.
“Hey, anyone home? Lydia?” Sofie poked her head around the corner.
“Sofie, hi! Yes, we’re here. Come in. You look gorgeous. I love your dress.”
Bunching her skirt, she gave it a flutter. “Oh, this old tent.”
Lydia laughed. “It’s funny how so many of you pregnant women think you look fat but all I see is precious baby and glowing mommy.”
“You are sweet. But just wait. I used to think that, too. But it all changes when it happens to you. Pregnancy does ungodly things to your body. Zach, bless him, tells me I’m beautiful every fifteen minutes and he seems to mean it. Crazy cowboy that he is. And he talks to the baby every day.”
Lydia couldn’t help but smile at the dreamy expression on her face. A surprising jolt of longing flooded through her. Lydia had never been in love like that. She wanted kids, but tried not to think about it too much, because for her, love was a prerequisite. After her parents’ volatile marriage and nasty divorce, she’d never bring a child into this world without being certain that love would last.
“Hey, girls!” Sofie called out as she strolled into the dining room, where the twins were working on their projects. The girls greeted her, showing off their artwork. Sofie’s enthusiasm warmed Lydia’s feelings for her even more.
A few minutes later, she reappeared. Pointing to where she’d just been, she whispered, “How did you manage that?”
“Manage what?”
“Getting them to focus like that.”
“I don’t...know. They don’t normally focus?”
“I can’t ever get them to sit down long enough to try.”
“Huh.” Lydia lowered her voice and said, “Jon told me they can be a handful. They’re energetic but I haven’t seen the rest.”
“I guess that’s why you’re the professional. And you can cook.” Sofie drew out a sigh. “I’m so envious. That looks delicious. It’s obvious that you have years of experience, just like Jon was hoping for.”
Lydia felt a twist of guilt. She wasn’t a professional anything. She was competent at a lot of things and what she’d told Jon about being trainable was accurate. Meredith always said she had job-lust, like wanderlust but with jobs. She never stayed at any job long enough to claim years of experience at any one of them. At a year and three months, her longest stint of employment had combined with her longest relationship and equaled her biggest mistake. The group home was an exception, although it was volunteer work.
Sofie gestured toward the dining room again. “That must mitigate some of his disappointment in your lack of ranching experience, huh? The look on his face when he realized you were from the city.” She gave her head a little shake. “I thought he was going to send you away on the spot. Ava did such a number on him.”
Ava? Lydia slipped the casserole into the oven and realized that not only was Sofie a potential friend, but she could also undoubtedly provide some insight into her new employer. Stuffing down another bout of conscience at the notion of prying into his personal business, she told herself she needed to use any means available to keep this job. Jon Blackwell had given her this opportunity and Lydia needed to succeed. Besides, she could use a friend. Or as much of one as she could have under the circumstances.
“You’re welcome to stay for lunch.”
The woman’s eyes lit with delight. “I’d love that.”
“I should warn you, though. We’re going to have a lesson in table manners and you won’t be exempt.”
“Great,” Sofie said with relief. “It’s about time someone tackled that. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
* * *
“NEW NANNY WORKING out all right?” Zach
asked Jon when he’d finished tamping in the last fence post. Zach was giving him a hand after he’d gotten behind from spending part of the last few days at the Blackwell Ranch helping Katie. They were repairing a stretch of fence in the east field, where a herd of elk had busted it up the night before. Trout was busy sniffing their tracks.
Stepping back, he eyed the plumb of the post. “Mmm. So far.”
“What do you mean ‘so far’? Sofie says she’s wonderful. Has the girls under control, cooks like a celebrity chef. Sofie couldn’t stop talking about her mac and cheese. And she sent home a loaf of the best pumpkin bread I’ve ever eaten. Pretty sure there was something addictive in that frosting.”
Jon kneeled and snipped a length from the coil of barbed wire they’d retrieved from where they were kept hanging at intervals along the fence line. “Honeymoon phase.”
“Honeymoon? Don’t tell me you pulled a Big E and married her already?” Zach quipped as he grabbed one end of the wire and began splicing it to a broken strand.
Jon rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe your wife thinks you’re funny. No, I mean it’s only been a few days. I’m reserving judgment.”
“A few days?” Zach repeated flatly. “That’s a lifetime in your world. Do I need to remind you, buddy, that the longest babysitter you’ve had since Annie died was one week? And she threatened to quit after two days. Only reason she stayed is because you paid her an exorbitant amount of cash.”
This was true. He’d been desperate. Beavers had dammed the creek and the lower fields flooded with water. It wasn’t safe for the girls to be with them while they were trapping beavers and dismantling the dam.
Annie had been a friend of his grandmother’s—his actual grandmother, Dorothy, Big E’s first wife. Annie had been like having a tiny piece of his grandmother looking after the twins. She’d suffered a stroke and passed away a year and a half ago. It still hurt to think about it, but he was grateful they’d had her that long. Since then, Jon had hired babysitters on and off. Mostly, he carted the girls around the ranch with him. Tom helped. Sometimes Dusty would keep an eye on them in the bunkhouse. Occasionally Zach’s mom, Willa, would take them for an afternoon or even a sleepover. As much as Jon enjoyed having the girls with him, they’d gotten increasingly out of control. Willa said they needed a schedule, regular meals, a bedtime and such. Jon agreed, but it just wasn’t feasible. It had been Sofie who’d encouraged him to give the nanny thing a try.
“Tell Sofie not to get too attached. She’s only going to be here a couple of weeks.”
Zach paused where he was splicing another strand of wire. “What do you mean? You spent a lot of time trying to find a good, qualified person. I thought it was supposed to be a long-term gig.”
“It was but she’s not qualified.”
“Sofie said the girls made it through the entire meal without playing with their food.”
“She’s good with them.” Jon snipped some barbs from the section he was working. “It’s not that.”
“Is it because she’s from the city and didn’t grow up on a ranch or whatever you were harping on about before?”
“Don’t start.” He didn’t like the way his feathers were feeling all ruffled. “I know what I’m doing. Her city-girl ways will catch up with her and I’ll be the one to suffer. The girls will suffer.”
“Sofie didn’t—”
“Sofie is an isolated case. An anomaly. And I know you don’t like to be reminded of it, but it almost didn’t work out for you guys.” Zach and Sofie might be a sticky-sweet example of true love now, but their relationship didn’t start out that way.
“Way I see it—” Zach squinted at him “—the only relevant point you’re making is that it did.”
“Which isn’t relevant at all in my case, is it? I need a nanny, not a wife.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with keeping your options open,” Zach muttered.
Jon ignored him and hooked up the fence stretcher.
* * *
LYDIA STARED OUT the window. Tapping a finger on the sill, she thought it through. The chances of Clive bugging the phones of the multimillion-dollar computer-tech company where Meredith worked were slim. Meredith always talked about how the company’s security was top-notch, grumbling that she was constantly being forced to change her passwords.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Lydia dialed the phone. After pressing the number for her friend’s extension, Meredith’s unmistakable voice came on the line. “Meredith Blumen.”
“Hey, Meredith.”
“Omigosh! Lydia?” Lydia squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of her friend’s tone, which was happy, frantic and hushed all at the same time. “Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. Can you go somewhere where you can talk? And not on your cell.”
“Um, I can borrow Dillon’s cell phone and go outside.” Dillon was Meredith’s coworker who had a monster-sized crush on her.
“Perfect.”
“I’ll call you back in three minutes.”
Two minutes later, the phone buzzed in her clenched hand.
“Clive is looking for you, that fatheaded jerk-face. But, of course, you know that. As if I would tell him where you are even if I knew.”
“I’m sorry, Meredith. I hoped to keep you out of this.”
“This? What this? What is going on?”
“I can’t tell you that, either. At least, not now.” Probably never, Lydia realized, and felt a painful stab of grief at the thought that she’d never see her friend again. No more lunch dates, or nights listening to music and eating ice cream straight out of the container. No more going out dancing, or perusing the employment section looking for Lydia’s latest career venture and then giving up and doing the crossword puzzle together instead. She’d miss the Blumen family gatherings, too, where they all made Lydia feel like a sister, daughter, aunt.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with Clive.”
“Oh, sweetie, I know. It’s okay. Tanner warned me. I was prepared. I threw a plate at him and accused him of murdering you. I demanded that he tell me what he did with you. You should have seen his face when I threatened to call the cops.”
Lydia couldn’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness of the ordeal. It gave her a measure of peace knowing her best friend had this protection.
“It was comical. It was like it never occurred to him that anyone would suspect that he’d done something to you. I wish I would have thought to film it. Guaranteed five million hits online. When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words that she might never see her again. New feelings for Clive swirled inside her. Hatred and contempt, she realized, were mixing with the fear that had been dominant for so long.
Lydia expected an argument, but Meredith remained quiet for so long Lydia almost asked if she was still on the line. “Yeah, I got that impression from Tanner. I want to ask you what happened, but I know I shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, don’t.”
“Can I just say that I knew he was trouble from the moment we met him.”
“That you can say. In fact, you’ve already said it. Many times.”
“Well, you broke our cardinal rule.”
“Not technically. I didn’t go home with him.”
Years ago, she and Meredith made a pact—they would keep their nightlife separate from their real life. Going out was strictly about their shared love of music and dancing. It had nothing to do with meeting men. Neither of them could ever leave a club with a guy or leave the other alone under any circumstances.
They’d met Clive at a club. Without introducing himself, he’d bought drinks for “you and your friend,” the server had told her. He’d continued to do so all night. Near the end of the evening, Lydia had asked the server if he owned the place, or
if he was buying drinks for any other women. “Nope,” she’d said. “He comes in here all the time and I’ve never seen him buy anyone else a drink. Not until you.” Lydia was intrigued. When they were ready to depart, she’d gone over to his table to thank him. He’d stood and guided her away from his friends. Unable to resist, she’d asked him why he’d done it.
He’d answered, “You and your friend were having such a good time. I wanted to be a part of it without spoiling it. The way you dance... It’s... I don’t even know...” He’d shrugged helplessly and said, “Sublime. Thank you for making me believe that people can be happy.”
That had done it. She’d asked for his number. All the way home she and Meredith had argued about it. Meredith maintained it was nothing but a clever pickup line, but Lydia had felt something...different. Between them, they’d heard a lot of lines over the years. None of them had ever gotten to her like that.
Unable to stop thinking about it, she’d called him. Clive had been charming at first, generous, attentive and thoughtful. She’d just quit yet another job and he’d begged her to work for him. It had taken her too long to realize the “different” she’d felt was actually danger.
“Ugh. I want to hurt him for doing this to you because whatever happened, I know it’s his fault...”
She let her friend vent. Even though Lydia felt like it was a lot her fault, too, for not being stronger, for not leaving Clive sooner. By the time she discovered who he was, and that what he was doing with an investment fund was cheating people while not technically committing a crime, it was too late to simply leave. He knew that she knew. And the longer she stayed, the more he pulled her in, until she had reached a point where she couldn’t not curtail his plans without feeling culpable herself.
But her options were limited. She could wait for him to do something actually illegal, and then report him. But Clive was clever when it came to technicalities and skirting the rules. What if there wasn’t enough evidence to pin anything on him? Removing the money from the equation seemed like her only answer. Without knowing how much and to whom the funds should be returned, she did the only other thing she could think of. She gave the money away.