The Tick-Tock Between You and Me

by Kristy Tate

  “How do those two topics even go together?” Darby pulled out the container of soup from the fridge, found a bowl, and poured herself a generous serving before putting it in the microwave.

  Nora shook her head. “I didn’t even get a chance to really talk to Cole.”

  Darby patted Nora’s shoulder as she brushed past on her way to the bread box. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of one on one time with Cole.”

  Nora addressed the soapy water. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  “Me too,” Darby said with a sly smile as she cut herself a thick slice of bread.

  “Yeah?” Nora brightened.

  “Absolutely. This place is heaven.” The microwave dinged and Darby extracted her steaming bowl of soup. “I could stay here while you cooked for me. It would be great.” She settled down at the table.

  “You’re kidding, right? Because if you aren’t, I’d say let’s go right now to get your things so you can move in.”

  Darby put down her spoon and studied her friend. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  Nora dried her hands on a dish towel. “What if you were right? I know nothing about teaching…nothing about girls that age.”

  “You were a girl that age,” Darby said gently, as she picked up her spoon. The clam chowder smelled like heaven.

  Nora sat down at the table across from Darby. “But was I really? You know what they say about only children. I was an adult by the time I was seven. I was taller than most of my teachers by the time I was in sixth grade.”

  “Height has nothing to do with maturity.” Darby whistled. “That’s pretty deep coming from me.” She smiled before she took a spoonful of soup. “What filled you with self-doubt?”

  “Barry Sprog.”

  Darby spit out her soup with a snort. “What’s a Barry Sprog?”

  “It’s not an it…I mean he’s not an it, he’s a who and the science teacher.”

  “Oh yeah, the one with erectile dysfunction.”

  Nora laughed and cast a guilty look at the window, as if afraid her new neighbor would hear them and be offended. “We don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  “I guess you’re right. Why else would anyone spend their vacation in Brazil searching for poisonous spiders? Maybe this Mr. George will want to hire you full time? Or you can work remotely. You want to move out of your parent’s house, right?”

  “Sweetie,” Darby reached across the table and squeezed Nora’s hand. “I love that you want me to join you here, but it’s never going to happen. Stick to the plan. You’ll work at Canterbury for the school year, teaching by day and writing your next book by night. You’ll finish your book, sell it to Hollywood, and we’ll throw a lavish party and invite all the A-listers. Maybe Benji will have made it big by then and he’ll come.” Darby stirred her soup as if she were looking at her future in the bottom of the bowl. “If I stay here, I’ll only get in the way.”

  “Tomorrow is the first staff meeting.” Nora sounded as if she were predicting a tornado or some other uncontrollable disaster.

  “And you’ll be great.” Darby bit into the bread and hummed with pleasure as it melted in her mouth.

  “And the students start returning.” Nora drummed her fingers on the table, no longer making any effort to hide her nerves.

  “And they’ll love you.” Darby used the last bit of her bread to mop up the few remaining drops of soup in her bowl.

  “I’m not as worried about the girls as I should be. I’m more worried about Irena and Cole.”

  “They’ll love you, too.” Darby got up to wash her bowl and spoon.

  Nora breathed out a wistful sigh. “I hope so.”

  #

  The next morning, Darby pulled up in front of the hacienda, took a deep breath and a glance in the mirror. She chided herself for feeling nervous. I’ve done this a hundred times. Why was this client so different from any of the others? Because this time, there’s a handsome man involved, a snarky voice in the back of her mind whispered.

  A few weeks ago, she’d imagined herself in love with Benji. His betrayal had shaken her trust in her abilities to read people. Obviously, he had used her. She’d purchased his plane ticket to L.A. and then he’d mooched her car and hadn’t even bothered returning her phone calls until she’d reclaimed it. How could she have been so pathetic?

  Not every man is a Benji, the voice reminded her, sounding more sympathetic and much less snarky. Darby sucked in another deep breath, gathered her notebook, and after one more glance in the mirror, she stepped out of the car.

  Built on a hill overlooking a large valley filled with pastures and farmland, the hacienda was a sprawling white stucco house with a Spanish tile roof, dark wooden beams encasing the windows, and a massive ornately carved double door. Mexican pavers led a path through cheery white and yellow daisies. Scarlett bougainvillea vines climbed the walls.

  Darby’s heels clicked on the Mexican tiles. She was used to the hustle and bustle of Shell Beach and L.A. and she found the quiet stillness eerie, yet soothing. She wondered if she could get used to the isolation.

  The door opened before she could knock.

  The gorgeous blonde Darby had met the previous day at Ralph’s stepped onto the porch. Tall, thin, tanned—she was everything Darby wasn’t but wanted to be. The woman gave her a wide smile. “Hi, you must be Darby. I’m Jessica, Chad’s girlfriend.”

  For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,

  With a blooming and beautiful bride;

  CHAPTER 6

  Of course, Chad would have a girlfriend. He was simply too perfect not to. And Jessica looked like she matched his perfection. But did she really? She had admitted to not liking kids. Nora’s words surfaced in Darby’s thoughts, only monsters don’t like kids. Did that make Jessica a monster?

  Chad rounded the corner, dropped a hand on Jessica’s shoulder, and gave Darby a welcoming smile. Together, they looked like they’d stepped out of a J. Crew advertisement.

  Darby hugged her portfolio a little tighter to her chest. “Is Mr. George in?” she asked, reminding not only them, but also herself of her purpose in being there.

  “He’s waiting for you in the study,” Chad told her.

  “He’s got his boots on,” Jessica said in a warning voice as she pulled the door open.

  What does that mean? Darby wondered as she stepped inside. Despite the early morning warmth, the house’s interior was cool and airy. Darby glanced around at the white plaster walls, cold tile floors, tall ceilings, sparse furnishings, all so unlike her own home.

  “That means he plans on showing you around the ranch,” Chad said in a low voice. “But he’ll probably wear himself out before he gets to the bunkhouse.”

  Jessica nodded. “He’ll take you first to the stables since that’s where his heart is.”

  Darby followed Jessica and Chad. Jessica wore New Occult jeans with a black blouse, and pair of high- heeled sandals that beat out a sharp staccato on the tile as she strutted down a long corridor. Darby’s own ballet flats made little noise. Even though she was coming to a ranch and suspected she’d be traipsing across the sizeable property, she’d chosen to wear what she considered to be her work uniform: a black knee-length pencil skirt, a white button-down blouse, and modest jewelry. Because she’d stayed the night at Nora’s, she had an overnight bag with jeans and a couple of T-shirts. Of course, since yesterday when she’d realized that Chad’s family owned the ranch, she’d hoped—but not really planned—on more one-on-one time with Chad. But she realized now that those hopes—like her expectations with Benji—were based on nothing more than flights of her imagination. Darby squared her shoulders and reminded herself that while she might not be good at reading people, she was very good at translating numbers and that was why she was here.

  The study lay on the other side of a pair of French doors. This room had obviously been last decorated in the late eighties or early nineties. The walls were a hunter
green, the rug a thick jewel-toned tapestry. Bookshelves flanked the large beveled glass window looking out over the arid brown hills.

  An older gray-haired gentleman sat behind a massive oak desk. A middle-aged man in a golf shirt and khakis stood on the other side of the desk while a silvery-haired woman in a red silk sheath dress lounged in a leather club chair. Cecelia, who had been sitting on the window bench, bounced up with a smile and came to give Darby a welcoming hug.

  “Thanks for coming,” Cecelia said in her ear.

  “Thanks for hiring me,” Darby whispered back.

  “You’re going to be fabulous.” Cecelia placed her hands on Darby’s shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “You are exactly what we need!”

  Mr. George senior, looked as if he agreed. Mr. George junior and his wife seemed much more skeptical.

  Mr. George senior placed his hands on his desk and pushed himself to his feet. “Young lady,” he said in a rasping voice. “I’m not sure what you did to bewitch our Cecelia, but if you’re as good with numbers as everyone says you are, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Everyone looked at Darby as if she were the answer to their problems. Sadly, though Darby didn’t want to be the one to tell them the heartbreaking news, from her earlier calculations, a real estate broker or a magician would better serve them.

  Mr. George junior gave Darby a limp and squishy handshake. “Call me Bernie,” he said.

  His wife nodded at Darby from her chair and gave a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “And I’m Elaine.”

  “Let me show my latest acquisition before we do anything else.” George senior pulled open a desk drawer and took out a large black cowboy hat.

  His son rolled his eyes. “Now Dad—”

  Elaine nudged her husband’s leg with the heel of her shoe.

  “I was just going to say, it’s getting hot outside,” Bernie complained.

  “Then we’ll just have to ask Maria to make us some ice-tea,” Elaine said. “I’m sure Bern wants to show Miss Elliot his new pony.”

  Bern snorted and positioned his sizable hat on his head, making his white hair puff out like a fur trim. “A pony is small breed whose withers are below fourteen hands. Torpedo is not a pony. He’s going to make a fine stallion. And for Miss Elliot to truly understand the importance of preserving the ranch, she needs to see this little investment gem in action.”

  “But Grandpa,” Cecelia put in, “don’t you want to wait until later in the afternoon when it’s not quite so hot?” She glanced outside at the bright sun glinting off a shimmery pool.

  “Nonsense,” Bern said, grabbing his cane. “Who’s with me?”

  “Good thing you wore sensible shoes,” Jessica said to Darby with a lift of her eyebrows. And from that moment, Darby began to think of herself as Miss Sensible Shoes.

  #

  It was always a strange sensation—that out-of-body experience of seeing a familiar place through a stranger’s eyes. What would Darby think of Rancho de Rio? Of his family? And of him? What would she think of Jessica?

  Chad had been only a kid when he started dating Jessica. Now she was so much a part of him that he couldn’t imagine his life without her. But sometimes she’d say or do something that would make him stop and look at her as if he didn’t really know her. And often he wondered if they were to meet now if they’d even be attracted to each other.

  Jessica’s sandals were almost as ridiculous as his stepmother’s dress. He stopped himself. He couldn’t compare Jessica to Elaine. That line of thinking led to a scary place. A place he had no intention of entering. Ever. He detested his stepmother, and it sometimes rankled that Jessica and Elaine shared a mutual—what? Fangirl attraction for each other? Sometimes he wondered if Jessica liked Elaine more than she liked him.

  He matched his pace with his grandfather’s ambling down the hall, passing through the kitchen and mudroom to the Dutch door that led to a stone patio.

  “The original house had been built in 1865,” Grandpa told Darby, “and a separate building that had long since been converted into a casita had been the original kitchen.”

  The current day kitchen had last been updated when Chad’s grandmother was still alive, and since she had died nearly ten years ago, the kitchen and most of its appliances had to be older than that. They didn’t have a dishwasher or even a garbage disposal, but the stove and refrigerator had to be almost as old as himself. Chad had never thought about this before, but he now wondered if Maria minded and if he were to marry a woman who liked to cook, what would she think of the outdated kitchen?

  Jessica didn’t cook, so of course, she didn’t give two figs about the kitchen since she rarely went in it. But what if he married someone other than Jessica—someone who did like to cook? Chad’s gaze flitted from Darby to Jessica as he considered marrying someone other than Jessica.

  “All this land belonged to my father and to his father before him,” Grandpa informed Darby, pointing his cane at the valley.

  Chad watched Darby, wondering what she was thinking. What had her research pulled up? Did she know about the county’s regulation on water rights? How about the taxes? Did she realize that a good portion of the land was zoned for agriculture use only?

  Grandpa hobbled toward the stables and Chad hovered close enough that should his grandfather stumble, Chad would be there to catch him. The truth was, ranching was a young man’s game, and no one had played harder than Bern. In the ranch’s glory days, the pastures had been ripe with studs, mares, and foals, but now most of the horses, like Bern, were aging and no one had the heart to let them go. And neither Chad nor his dad was interested in breeding horses.

  “This is where the magic happens,” Grandpa told Darby as they rounded a small hill and the stables came into view.

  Chad wrinkled his nose, wondering if Darby would mind the stench. While there used to be a team of field hands, now days they had one man—Paco—who looked after the horses and the grounds. But Paco spent most of his days following Bern and listening to his stories—which was great for Bern, but not so great for the horses and or the grounds. Chad did what he could, but he kept long hours at the school with his teaching and coaching.

  His gaze sought out Jessica, unsure of where his heart actually was and why it had disappeared. The heels of Jessica’s shoes sunk into the dirt as she walked to the stables making her hobble. He felt embarrassed for her and her ridiculous footwear.

  “How long can you stay?” Cecelia asked Darby.

  Darby opened her mouth and indecision flitted across her face. “I have to be back in the office tomorrow.”

  “Seriously?” Cecelia asked. “Don’t you think you need more time than that?”

  Darby shot Bernard a quick glance. “Of course, I do, but I can work from my office as well as here. My boss—”

  Cecelia cut her off and addressed her grandfather. “Wouldn’t it be better for Darby to work from here?”

  “Why don’t I call and arrange things with your boss?” Bern said.

  “I, um, guess that could work.” Darby cut a glance at Chad.

  “If you need to borrow any clothes or anything,” Cecelia said, “I’d be happy to lend you whatever you need.”

  “You’re a lot taller than me,” Darby said.

  “Oh, I know!” Cecelia’s voice rose in excitement, “You could borrow some of Grandma Rose’s clothes. We have closets and closets of those!” She took Darby’s arm and squeezed.

  “Oh, I don’t know…I mean, I can’t stay that long,” Darby said.

  “It wouldn’t be a problem, would it Grandpa?” Cecelia pressed, “if we lent Darby some of grandma’s old clothes?”

  His grandfather said it would be no problem, but the expression on Jessica’s face told Chad that she disagreed. But Chad’s heart—the one he worried had disappeared—lifted.

  #

  Darby stared out at the pool from the living room window. It looked tempting, but she had misgivings about sitting at the pool while she was su
pposed to be working. Although, Bern had assured her that everyone on the ranch needed a siesta.

  “It’s a time-honored tradition,” he’d told her after their tour of the stables. And since he’d looked much too tired to work, she couldn’t press him. She’d thought that maybe after lunch he’d be ready to hunker down to the books, but if anything, he’d looked even more in need of a nap.

  Chad looked at his watch. “I’ve got a staff meeting at the school,” he announced. “I should be back in a couple of hours.” He gave Darby an assessing glance. “You going to be all right here?”

  “Of course, she’ll be great,” Cecelia said. “I can’t wait to show you my Grandma Rose’s wardrobe. You’re going to love it.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Her stuff is way better than that blouse Chad tried to give you.”

  Jessica’s ears pricked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” Cecelia said airily.

  Darby’s attention flashed between the two. A wariness told her that she was missing something. It was like they were speaking a silent yet hostile secret language Darby couldn’t understand.

  “Come on.” Cecelia took Darby’s arm and propelled her down the hall. She opened a door that led to a steep stairway. “We moved all of Grandma Rose’s things up here after she died ten years ago. Not only are you about her size, but you also look a lot like her. I think that’s why Grandpa took to you right away.” She threw Darby a smile over her shoulder. “That’s a good thing.”

  Bern had been the one to call and convince Mr. Hopper that Darby needed to stay a few days. Of course, Darby had been all too happy to have an excuse to avoid going home, but she wished she could have been around to see Mr. Hopper’s face. He liked to keep his accountants under his thumb and scrutiny.

  “What is all this stuff?” Darby asked as she took in the attic. Dust mites, as light and graceful as fairies, floated in the slats of sunshine streaming through the window blinds. Boxes, trunks, and aged suitcases stacked in piles like giant Jenga pieces filled the shadowy space beneath the eaves.