“I brought some things I thought you might be able to use. Want to help me carry them in?”
Angela’s tentative smile was cut off by an epithet so explicit it made Abby gape. The girl exploded off the stoop like an Olympic sprinter. “Rufus,” she screeched, “if you ruined anything, I swear I will kick your skinny ass. Go home, you good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch. Ed’s gonna put a leash on you if you don’t stay home.”
Abby spun around, following the girl with her gaze. With athletic grace, Angela dived for the car door and reared back with a wriggling armful of puppy. The dog, a black Lab almost half her size, slithered out of her hold and dashed away.
Abby hurried to check the damage.
“They weren’t brownies, were they?” Angela asked, her voice low and tense, holding up an empty pan. “Chocolate ain’t good for dogs. I’d rather kill him myself.”
Abby stared at the pan, too surprised to quite make sense of what had happened. “No. Rice Krispie treats.”
“Goddamn it!” Angela swore. “I really like those. Why does everything have to get ruined?”
A quiver in her voice made Abby look up in time to see tears tumble over the rims of Angela’s eyes. Without thinking, Abby put her arms around the slim, shuddering shoulders and drew her close. It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to make more treats, but she knew the root of these tears couldn’t be fixed by a trip to the store.
How well she knew! A wraith, older than Angela but just as anguished, hovered peripherally, breathing life into memories too well hidden to be anything but ghosts.
TOM WAITED beside Abby’s Honda while she leaned inside to grab the clipboard she planned to use to make notes about everything that was wrong with his living accommodations. He’d jokingly suggested she’d need more than one pad, but Abby had smiled serenely and replied that her forte was getting more from less.
Tom could believe it, too. By the time he and Heather returned from a hasty fence repair, Abby and Angel were measuring the interior of the bunkhouse with a broken tape measure he kept in the kitchen drawer. Before he knew it, Abby had Heather holding one end and Angel the other, somehow turning the process into a game that had both girls laughing.
Now his daughters were happily ensconced in front of the nineteen-inch color television with built-in VCR—on loan from VOCAP, Abby told him—watching the movie Babe. She’d given the video to the girls claiming it was an old one she’d grown sick of, but Tom spotted the telltale cellophane wrapping on the floor of her car.
“Got it,” she said, returning to an upright position.
Tom liked her better that way. It took too much will-power to keep his gaze off her shapely rear end, which looked every bit as good in blue jeans as he thought it would.
“I make myself these detailed lists so I won’t forget anything, then I go off and forget my list,” she said, brushing her hair away from her face. “I must be getting old.”
“That’s my excuse,” Tom said, thinking he really liked her hair. The style fit her face and the color picked up highlights of copper he’d missed that day in the office.
Her smile wavered. “Thirty is not all that young, by today’s standards.”
“Lesley would have turned thirty-five in September,” he said without thinking.
He regretted his words when he saw a dark shadow pass across her face. She was much too gentle and caring to have to deal with all this horror. From the first moment he saw her stumble in front of her office, he’d felt a need to reach out and sweep her away to someplace safe. It was a foolish notion since she seemed perfectly happy in her job and able to juggle other people’s problems with a magician’s finesse.
“She was lovely,” Abby said, her tone somber. “Angela showed me her picture.”
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Tom felt the need to make her understand his feelings toward his ex-wife. “Les and I split up before Heather was born. She hated this life. Wanted action and went looking for it.
“People are like horses. Each one’s got a certain nature and there’s no changing that. I knew when I married her what she was like.” He sighed and looked across the irrigated pasture to the foothills muted by the afternoon haze. “I guess maybe she thought she could change my nature.”
“You were both very young,” Abby said softly.
“I guess. She was full of dreams. Her only mistake was thinking I could make them come true,” he said, unable to keep a smattering of bitterness out of his tone. “She tried hard when Angel was little, but it just got to the point where she wasn’t happy no matter what…” He left off the words “I did.” No use making it look like it was all Lesley’s fault. He’d played his part by being bullheaded and inflexible.
“So she moved to the city,” Abby said. “Did that make her happy?”
“I guess. She made good money. Had a big house, nice things.” He chuckled wryly, looking over his shoulder at his home. “Heck, this place could fit in one of her bathrooms. She even had a TV in the master bathroom. Can you imagine watching television in the tub or on the—whatever?”
She smiled but didn’t say anything. Maybe she had one in her bathroom. He felt himself flush. Maybe everybody but Tom Butler had a television set in the toilet.
Consulting her notepad, she asked in a professional tone, “Do you own or rent?”
“Neither. Ed Hastings owns this place, and I’m his foreman. We have a sort of lease-option arrangement. His sons aren’t interested in the ranch, and he doesn’t want to see it broken up after he passes on.”
She nodded, which made the sunlight dance off the rich shiny texture of her hair. “How does he feel about remodeling?”
Tom recalled his conversation with Ed half an hour earlier at the mailboxes. Ed was returning to the hospital.
“I saw a car go by earlier,” Ed hollered over the drone of the diesel. “That the gal from VOCAP?”
“Yep,” Tom said, hating the despondency he heard in Ed’s voice. Ever since Janey’s diagnosis, Ed seemed tired and distracted.
“Good,” Ed said, mustering a little enthusiasm. “I talked to Ralph Miller this morning.” Tom recognized the name of the lawyer he and Miguel had used to set up their partnership agreement. Ralph was an old friend of the Hastingses. “He says we should set up a limited power of attorney so you can run things when I’m not around. I’ll be back Thursday to settle it.”
“Whatever you want, Ed. Just keep us posted on Janey.”
Ed nodded, his lips tight. “Tell that VOCAP lady to pull out the stoppers and get going on the addition. It’ll give Janey something to look forward to.”
To Abby, Tom said, “Actually, Ed would like to see us get started as soon as possible.”
“Great. I’ll send a contractor out next week. He’ll be able to come up with some plans and a dollar figure, then I’ll find the money.”
Tom cleared his throat. He hated talking money with her, but the subject always seemed to come up. “Ed plans to cover the building costs.”
Her eyes lit up with a smile. “That’s wonderful, but…” She hesitated, looking at the sheaf of forms on her clipboard as if searching for some hidden answers. “If you don’t need a low-interest loan, you don’t really need me, do you? I mean, I’d be happy to help, but—”
“Well…” It wasn’t in his nature to ask for help, but Tom didn’t know what else to do. “I’ve never done this before and I don’t even know where to begin.”
There was understanding in her sudden smile. “I have,” she said, leaning back against her car. She folded her clipboard against her chest, innocently enhancing the shapeliness of her breasts against her plain white shirt. “I completely remodeled my house four years ago. Talk about a learning experience!”
Her lips pursed thoughtfully. Tom couldn’t help noticing how full and attractive they were. Had he noticed that before?
“You said you’re going to be running the ranch alone while the Hastingses are at Stanford, right?” Tom had been forced to explain
about Janey’s cancer treatment when Heather blurted out earlier, “Janey’s real, real sick and her doctor lives in a big city so she had to go there. She might have to buy a wig.”
He nodded.
“Well, I doubt if that will leave you much time to oversee a project like this, will it?”
Before he could answer, Abby put out her hand and touched his arm. Her fingers barely skimmed his skin, but Tom felt the contact all the way to his toes. “I think this is where my famous ‘interceding on your behalf’ comes into play,” she said, her tone sounding faintly amused. “I’ll call a contractor friend of mine tomorrow. Okay?”
Tom nodded, more relieved than he could imagine. Until that moment, it hadn’t even crossed his mind how he was going to handle the myriad aspects of remodeling, from subcontractors to design. Thank God, Abby Davis had offered to take this on.
Impulsively, Tom asked the question that had been on his mind ever since she called him back to set up this meeting. “Do you do this for everybody? Make a home visit on a Sunday afternoon?”
A rosy color flashed across her features and she lowered her head to scribble something in her notebook. “I had the time and it seemed like a good idea to get the ball rolling.”
“Why?”
She looked up, confused. “Why is it good to get going?”
“Why do you have the time? Why aren’t you spending it with your family?”
She shrugged. “My parents live in Palm Desert and my brothers and their families live—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Why aren’t you married?”
She looked stunned for a second then threw back her head and laughed. The sound made the horses scatter edgily. “Wow, you cowboys don’t pull any punches. My father asks me the same thing all the time, but you kind of expect that from a dad.”
Tom waited.
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I’ve lived with two men.” She grinned wickedly. “Sounds scandalous, doesn’t it? But one was too sick to marry and the other too flaky.” She sighed and looked toward the field beyond the barn. “Donna says one was darkness, the other light. Too much of either isn’t healthy. I guess I just haven’t found that perfect balance.”
Tom knew all about balancing acts. At times, he felt like a man juggling land mines on a tightrope.
Abby made a few more notes then opened the door of her car. “I’ll call you as soon as I have a meeting set up with the contractor.” She cocked her head as if listening for something. Tom heard the sound of a movie sound track. Abby seemed pleased. “Tell the girls goodbye for me. I always hate being interrupted when I’m watching a movie.”
“Thanks,” Tom said seriously. “For everything—the movie, the TV—”
She waved off his gratitude. “No problem. I’m glad to help. And I’m excited about the addition. Remodeling gets in your blood, you know.”
Tom watched her drive away. It wasn’t his nature to take to people right off—his mother called him a watchful owl, but he liked Abby Davis. He liked her cheerful candor, even if he sensed a somber undertone.
Humming under his breath, he went inside, intending to start supper. Sunday was his night to cook. So far the girls hadn’t complained, but he’d stretched his culinary repertoire about as far it went—quesadillas, egg sandwiches and macaroni and cheese. Tonight, he planned to make chili. From a can.
As he headed for the kitchen, Heather sat up from her sprawled position on the couch and motioned for him to come over.
“What is it, baby-love?”
“Sit with me.”
Grinning, he plopped down beside Angel and hauled Heather into his arms. She giggled and squirmed for a few seconds before quieting.
“How’s the movie?”
“Okay,” Angel said, her tone filled with ennui. “We saw it at the Cineplex near our house.”
“I like Ferdinand,” Heather said. “He’s a duck.”
Despite himself, Tom found his gaze drawn to the bright, clear picture. He was curious about the movie Abby had selected.
Angel passed him a bowl of popcorn.
“She’s pretty cool, you know,” Angel said.
“Ms. Davis?” Tom asked, his voice neutral.
Angel rolled her eyes. “You’re so old-fashioned, Daddy. She said to call her Abby.”
“Oh.”
Angel kept her eyes on the screen. “She said her mother is an interior decorator, I mean, designer. That’s what they call them now. She’s going to get us some magazines and books so we can design our bedroom. Cool, huh?”
Tom didn’t want to burst her bubble, but, despite Ed’s largesse, there were finances to consider. “We’ll see. It’s a ways off, sweetheart.”
“I know,” she said with a petulant frown. “But Mom always said it doesn’t hurt to dream.”
Tom closed his eyes. Lesley was dead, and he had a ranch to run and two children to raise. He didn’t have time to sleep, much less dream.
MONDAY MORNING Abby raised the cup of aromatic herbal tea to her nose and inhaled, hoping the cinnamon-apple scent could soothe her jangled nerves. She’d spent the last several hours on edge, worrying about what to say to Daniel if he suddenly called or, worse, showed up.
He was an attractive man, but Abby knew the risks of getting involved with a boss, not to mention someone going through an emotional upheaval. Daniel was neither light like Landon nor dark like Billy, but he was stuck in a gray area that he wouldn’t be clear of for months, maybe years.
“Wow!” Melina exclaimed, popping her head around Abby’s door. “Did you hear the latest? Marilyn booted Daniel out. She’s keeping the house and the Mercedes. God, he loved that car.”
Abby flinched. Gossip was one of the least attractive parts of working in a small office.
Melina’s perfectly waxed eyebrows shot up like parentheses turned sideways. “You knew this, didn’t you? He told you Friday, and you didn’t tell me.” Her tone was hurt and accusing.
“No. He didn’t say a word,” Abby said honestly.
“Then how’d you know?”
Abby stifled a sigh. “He called me Saturday and asked me to meet him in his office. I guess he wanted me to know before the gossip hit the fan, so to speak.”
It sounded plausible to her ears, but apparently Melina heard something different. She stepped into Abby’s office and closed the door. Taking the seat across from Abby, she said, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“He has the hots for you.”
Abby smiled at Melina’s dire tone. “Don’t be silly. He’s at a vulnerable point in his life, and I’m a reliable associate. Everybody cries on my shoulder, why should Daniel be any different?”
Melina shook her head, making her thick, wavy hair dance across the black suede lapels of her red-and-white checkered suit jacket. “No, Abby, it’s more than that. Otherwise, why didn’t he meet you at a coffee shop or someplace public? He wants more than your shoulder for comfort.”
Abby took a deep breath. “Forget it, Mel. Even if that were the case, I’m not getting involved. I know a dangerous proposition when I see one. I’m sticking to my original plan.”
“You’re leaving.” Her friend’s tone was so downcast, Abby reached across the desk and squeezed her hand. They’d hit if off the minute Melina interviewed for the job of associate counselor. Daniel had lobbied for a man with a bachelor’s degree in human resources. Abby had insisted they needed someone bilingual, as Melina was, but secretly she wanted another woman on staff and she liked Melina’s bubbly personality.
“Eventually. Not right away,” Abby reassured her friend.
Melina pursed her lips—theatrically red today. “I wanted to ask you about that. Roy told me about your new case—a cowboy and his kids. He said you’re handling him personally.”
Melina’s choice of words made Abby blush, so she took a swig of tea to hide her face. “You and Roy both have full loads, and your cruise is coming up pretty soon, right? I figured I was the logical choic
e since the Marshall case just closed.”
Abby gazed at the pale liquid in her cup. If she was serious about changing her life, now would have been the perfect time to start downsizing her caseload instead of volunteering to oversee a three-to-four-month-long remodeling project. But the look of desperation she’d seen in Tom Butler’s eyes had robbed her of the ability to think straight.
Melina frowned. “Does this have anything to do with the fact that he’s a hunk?”
Abby laughed. “Tom Butler is many things, Mel, but I don’t think he considers himself a hunk. He’s good-looking…in a country kind of way, but plain. No frills. No vanity or pretensions.”
Abby watched Melina’s facial expressions as she weighed Abby’s reply. The young Hispanic woman was prone to drama, always seeking deeper motives for someone’s actions. “Would you say he’s the exact opposite of Daniel?” she asked.
“Pretty much. No suit and tie in Tom Butler’s closet.”
“And he’s nothing at all like Landon.”
Abby frowned. She didn’t like where this was leading. “You could say that.”
Melina took a deep breath. “Abby, my friend, my mentor, my mother’s idea of a role model, I know I don’t have to remind you of this. You are the consummate professional, the standard-bearer for all advocates, the Saint Joan of—”
Abby snorted. “What are you getting at?”
Melina sat forward. “Abby, you can’t get involved with this guy. It’s unethical.”
Abby jerked her hands free. “Who said anything about getting involved?”
Melina rose and put one hand on Abby’s shoulder. “You did.” Her tone held a Mother Superior quality.
Abby gaped. “I did not.” Her own tone sounded just like Angela Butler arguing with her sister.
Melina sighed. Although four years younger than Abby, she was vastly more experienced in the ways of romance. “Abby, I know you. I can tell you like him.”
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