by Jennie Marts
“No, it was great. I just expected you to be older.”
“Well, I’ll be fourteen come the middle of the summer. I can fix up anything you were unhappy with.”
“No, really,” Charlie reassured her. “Everything looked wonderful. The bed was amazing, and I loved the lasagna. It was nice having something to eat when I got here, instead of being something to eat.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, nothing. I just had a little run-in with Tommy Lee when I arrived yesterday.”
“Well, I know you’re new to the country and all,” Sophie explained, “but you don’t have to worry. Cows eat grain and grass; they don’t eat people. Even crabby old bulls like Tommy Lee.”
She laughed. “Of course, I knew that.”
Sophie shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, and gave her full concentration to the spot on the floor she’d been studying. “So, do all the women in the city sleep in the nude?”
Charlie laughed again. She was beginning to like this girl who cleaned house, brought her food, and who wasn’t afraid of goats, but was still embarrassed to say “nude”. “No, not that I know of. I don’t usually, either. I was just too tired last night to bring in my suitcases and find some pajamas.”
“I can get you one of Gigi’s robes.” Sophie hopped up and crossed to the armoire adjacent to the bed. She opened the door and pulled a pink chenille robe from inside and laid it on the bed. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready. I made breakfast.”
A loud clatter came from the next room, and Sophie took off running. “Clyde, you better not be in that bacon.”
Still not ready to go out to the car and get her bags, Charlie slid from the bed and stuck her arm into the robe. Expecting it to be a little creepy and possibly old lady smelling, she was surprised at the feeling of comfort she got from wrapping it around her, and she breathed in the distinct scent of peaches.
Cinching the belt around her, she headed to the kitchen to see if the goat had left her any bacon.
…
“Oh my gosh, this is delicious.” Charlie spoke around the last bite of scrambled egg casserole she’d just forked into her mouth.
“It’s the country.” Sophie turned to put the pan into the sink, but not before Charlie caught her shy smile. “Being in the country makes everything taste better. Fresh air and all that. You’ll see.”
“Well, city or country, that was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time. Those eggs were superb.” She swiped the last piece of bacon from the platter and marveled at its crispy perfection. “Where did you learn to cook like that? I can barely boil water.”
“Mostly from Gigi. She had a monthly subscription to Taste of Home magazine, and we’d get so excited when it came. We would try out every recipe.”
Charlie made a mental note to make sure to renew the subscription to whatever Tasty Home magazine this was. “So, did you spend a lot of time with Geraldine—I mean Gigi?” she asked, still getting used to the nickname of her grandmother.
“Oh yes, all the time. She was like my very own grandmother.” Sophie’s grin dropped, and she wrung the dishtowel she was holding between her hands. “I’m sorry. Is that okay? I mean, I know she really was your grandmother. I just liked to pretend she was my grandma, too.”
“Sophie, it’s fine.” Charlie got up from the table and set her plate in the sink. She looked down at the girl with a gentle smile. “I am happy to share my grandmother, I mean Gigi, with you.”
“I knew you would say that.” Sophie threw her arms around Charlie’s waist. “If she’s both of our grandmas, then that makes us like sisters, or cousins at least, and I’ve never had either one.”
“Oh my.” She tried to extract herself from the young girl’s grip. “Okay, we can be like cousins. I’ve never had either of those, either.”
“Yay.” Sophie clapped her hands together, unfazed by Charlie’s backward step in an attempt to create a hug-free zone.
“So, what do cousins do together?”
“Oh my gosh. Well, they talk on the phone, like all the time. And they do each other’s nails and they tell each other all their secrets.” Sophie gushed, barely stopping to take a breath.
Hmm, I don’t think she’s ready to hear all my secrets, but I am pretty good with a bottle of nail polish. “Okay—talks, nails, secrets. Check. What else?”
“Ummm, well I think we should eat junk food in the middle of the afternoon or late at night, then talk about how worried we are that we might get fat. And we should definitely go shopping together.”
Wow. This was a kid after her own heart. Junk food and shopping. She couldn’t help but fall a little in love with this girl who’d been more genuine and eager for her friendship than any of the so-called friends she’d left behind in New York.
She’d left the city four days ago. Not one of her “friends” had bothered to call or text her to see if she’d arrived or to ask what Big Sky country was like. If it hadn’t been for her mother’s missed calls, she wouldn’t have known if her phone was even working.
“Well, I do need to get some things,” she told Sophie.
She wasn’t sure if her first day on the farm should be spent shopping, but she couldn’t very well explore her new surroundings in the clothing she’d brought along. And, if she had the right clothes, maybe she would feel more like she fit in, and a little less like an imposter.
Sophie would know the town and could show her around a little. Hopefully, she could help her find some clothes that looked like Montana and not Elly May Clampett. “But Cash told me there isn’t a mall within two hours of here.”
“Oh, he’s right, there isn’t.” Sophie ran the sink full of water and squirted a stream of dish soap over the pile of dishes.
Charlie felt guilty that she’d left her dishes in the sink the night before. “Here, let me help you with those. You cooked this nice breakfast for me and Clyde. The least I can do is wash the dishes.”
“It’s okay. I like doing dishes.” Sophie waved her away and made quick work of cleaning up, barely stopping to take a breath as she planned their day. “We can go shopping here in town. We have a dress shop called The Lady Bug, and we could maybe get some lunch at Loretta’s Café. And we have to go to Tate’s Western Shop to get you some cowboy boots. Or do you already have cowboy boots?”
“No, I definitely do not have any cowboy boots.” She thought of the black calf-skin leather high-heeled boots she’d bought at a sample sale the week before she’d left the city and tried to imagine herself wearing them out to the barn. Just thinking about going out to a barn itself was frightening enough. She didn’t need to make a fool of herself in the process.
“I could probably use an extra pair of jeans.” She tried to envision what kind of designer labels Tate’s Western Shop carried. Would it be Duds R Us or Cowgirl Klein?
More importantly, she tried to envision her dwindling bank account and hoped she had enough to cover the new clothes she needed, brand name label or not.
Her wardrobe was just one of the things that would have to change in Charlie’s Brave New World. She knew nothing about running a farm or taking care of animals. She knew that Tucked Away had at least one goat, a gigolo bull, and a fat gray cat.
She assumed there were more, but who paid to feed all of these animals? Was there a farm account or bills she was now responsible for paying? She wasn’t sure she had enough cash to feed herself, let alone a farmyard full of animals.
“Clyde, get away from those.” Sophie dripped soapy water across the kitchen floor as she took a run at the goat, who was chewing on the luggage tag of her one remaining Louis Vuitton bag.
Wait, how did her luggage get inside the house? Evidently, Clyde was the more observant one and took advantage of her inattentiveness to make a snack out of the small leather tag that used to detail her place of residence. From what she’d seen so far, the goat may actually prove to be the cheapest one to feed.
Not immune to the irony of a goat chewi
ng up the evidence of her old life, she laughed and waved Sophie away. “It’s all right, he can eat it. I’m not going back to that address anyway.” Charlie thought possibly Clyde would be more welcome at that apartment than she, especially after she’d lit the dining room table on fire, but she didn’t need to tell Sophie about that.
“Thanks for bringing my luggage in, though. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, I didn’t,” Sophie said, returning her hands to the soapy dishwater. “Cash brought them in this morning.”
Oh, great. She imagined the medley of gum wrappers, lip gloss, and tampons he must have had to wade through in her purse to find the rental car keys.
“He said something about putting some gas in your car, too.” Sophie rinsed the last pan and set it in the dish drainer. “Why don’t you go get ready, and I’m gonna run home and tell my Dad we’re going into town. I’ll be back in about an hour. Is that okay? Or do you want me to stay and help you unpack?”
She smiled at the girl’s unbridled enthusiasm. “No, I’m good. I’ll probably just shower and get dressed and worry about unpacking later this afternoon.” She walked to the front door and looked out the glass. “Are you really going to run home? Do you live near here?”
“Yeah, our farm is around the corner from Tucked Away. It’s about a mile away if you go by the road, but it just takes a few minutes to walk over if you cut across the pasture,” she explained.
“I’m not exactly sure what or how big a pasture is,” Charlie said. “I guess I’d better get out and explore this place. Maybe you can give me a tour later.”
“Sure. I’ve been all over this farm. I know it almost as well as my own.” Sophie headed for the front door. “See ya in an hour.”
“Okay, that sounds good. And, Sophie, can you take the goat with you?”
“Yeah, he makes kind of a funny pet.”
Charlie had a sudden thought. “Hey, how did you get in here today? I thought the door was locked.”
“Oh, yeah, it was. That was weird. Nobody locks doors in Broken Falls. I just used the key under the mat.”
“Of course you did. See you in an hour.” She shook her head at one more thing she would have to get used to about living in the country. She reached for her suitcase, thinking that still didn’t explain how the goat got in.
Chapter Three
The Montana summer heat hit Zack Cooper the minute he stepped out of the hardware store. It was a little after eleven, and the morning was already heating up to be a scorcher. His boots kicked up little flurries of dust on the sidewalk as he made his way down Main Street and back to the vet clinic.
Since taking over the clinic less than a year ago, he’d become everything from the chief-cook to the bottle washer, which meant he did it all, from cleaning toilets to ordering supplies. The latter of which he’d failed to do last week, hence the last minute run to the store.
Any pride at having his own clinic while still in his early thirties was undone as he hurried down Main Street carrying a toilet bowl brush in one hand and hefting a forty-pound bag of dog food on his hip.
He tipped his hat as he passed three old ladies sitting on a bench in front of The Lady Bug Dress Shoppe. “Ladies.”
Etta James and twin sisters, Millie and Willie May sat sentinel over the town square, their ample rumps barely squeezed into the bench where they had a perfect view of all the comings and goings in the town’s center. “Hello, Doc,” they said in perfect chorus.
“Forget to order supplies again?” Willie asked.
Zack grinned. He actually had a soft spot for the women, who often dropped off pies or homemade goods at the clinic. “You know me too well.”
“We know you, but we sure as heck don’t know her,” Millie said, pointing to a woman standing on the curb in front of the next shop down. “Look at those fancy clothes. You can tell she’s not from around here. And the plates on that little red car are from out of state.”
Zack turned, and his pulse did a quick little skip. The woman had long, blond hair and curves in all the right places. She also looked about as out of place as they come. “She must be lost. I’ll see if I can help.”
He waved to the ladies before heading toward the woman. He was just being neighborly, right? Right.
Everything about her screamed city-girl, from her high-heeled boots to her silk blouse, to the ridiculously huge handbag hanging from her shoulder. He didn’t know a lot about purses, but he knew real leather and guessed that the price of that handbag could cover the next six months of his dog food orders.
“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, as he watched her look up one side of the street and down the other.
“Um, hi.” She pulled a pair of expensive sunglasses from her face and blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “Wow. Another cowboy. Is this place for real?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, I’m not from around here.”
“Yeah, I can tell. Is there something I can help you find?” Why did he suddenly feel nervous? And why was he sweating? He wished he weren’t holding a toilet brush, and he stuck it behind his back.
“My mind, maybe. I seem to have lost it.” She waved her sunglasses toward the storefront. “I’m in town shopping with a friend, and I thought I would grab us a couple of Starbucks, but I don’t seem to see one.”
“No, you won’t. You’re not gonna find a fancy coffee shop around these parts. But you can get a cup of plain old coffee over at Cherry’s Diner.” He turned to point to the café, and she leaned forward to follow the direction of the toilet bowl brush.
The corner of the heavy dog food bag caught the strap of her purse, and she stumbled forward, falling off the curb and waving her arms to catch her balance. The loud snap of her heel breaking was followed by a curse word worthy of a sailor, and her purse went flying.
The dog food slid from his grasp. He reached to grab her as she pitched forward and fell into his arms.
The heady scent of her perfume surrounded him as she looked up at him, her chest pressed against his. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” His mouth went dry, and he tried not to look down at the front of her shirt where her blouse gaped open and the lace edge of her bra peeked through.
He held onto her a beat too long, then let go as she steadied herself. “You were just looking for some coffee, and I almost knocked you over with a bag of puppy chow.”
She laughed. A light, easy sound. “I think breaking my heel and being mauled by a giant bag of dog food is right on par with the way the last couple of days have been going for me. I’m just glad you didn’t impale me with the toilet bowl brush.” She reached down to pick up the brush that had fallen near her feet. It lay amongst the scattered articles that had fallen from her purse.
“Here, let me help you.” Embarrassed, he knelt to the ground and began collecting the oddest assortment of items: a fat wallet with receipts sticking out the sides, three tubes of lip gloss, a pink makeup bag, a collection of fancy bottles with French names printed on their shiny labels, more lip gloss, and a variety of feminine hygiene products. “What is all this stuff?”
She was busy cramming things back into the enormous bag but stopped to give him a skeptical look. “Really?”
“Well, I mean, I know what this stuff is.” He awkwardly handed her the items filling his hands. “But why do you have all this stuff in your purse?”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “It’s just stuff I need.”
He handed her a balled up pair of gym shorts and a hot pink sports bra. “What could you possibly need this for?”
“Those are my workout clothes.” She grabbed the garments from him and stuffed them in her purse. “In case I want to stop at the gym.”
“What gym? The only 24-hour fitness you’re going to find around here is chores on a farm. They go from sun-up to sun-down.” He watched in awe as she stuffed more things into the leather bag. He couldn’t believe how much she f
it in there. It was like an endless cavern of space.
He heard her mumble something about one more thing she would have to get used to before she looked up at him and sighed. “I’m thinking about moving here. But this place is quite a change from where I’m from.”
“I can imagine.” More stuff had fallen onto the curb, and he collected another five tubes of lip gloss. Geez, how much lip care could one woman need? He caught himself glancing at her lips, wondering if they were as soft as they looked.
Get ahold of yourself, man. Fifteen lip glosses spelled out high maintenance and a woman who couldn’t make up her mind. Did she change shades every hour? He knew other girls from the city who changed their mood and personality that often. Maybe she needed a different shade for each of her moods—if so, that was one moody broad.
Except she didn’t seem moody. She seemed pleasant and able to laugh at herself. Kind of nice even, if not a little befuddled. He liked the way she laughed at herself as she grabbed a tube of hand cream that had rolled away. She seemed like someone he might like to get to know.
But why bother? He could tell her type just by looking at her. She might seem pleasant enough, but that snug skirt and elegant top she was wearing told him she had expensive tastes and nothing in this town would live up to her standards. She was wearing pantyhose, for goodness sakes. In the summer in Montana.
He knew she also wore fancy underthings from that slight glimpse he got of her lacy bra as she fell against him. And nobody sold fancy underthings in this town. She looked like she needed trendy shopping malls and twenty-four hour gyms and frou-frou coffee shops. She needed the city, and he knew she’d be going back soon.
He picked up the last of her things and handed her a compact and a small canister on a key ring. “What’s this? Perfume?”
She held open her purse for him to drop the last few items in. “Hardly. That’s Mace. In case I get mugged or attacked.”
“Attacked?” She really was out of her element. “The only thing that might attack you in Montana is a grizzly bear. And that spray won’t do much to stop him if that happened.”