Читать книгу The Inherited Twins - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 7

Claire breathed in sharply, clearly thrown off guard by the twins’ innocent query. Briefly, a mixture of grief and shock crossed her face.

Just as quickly, she pulled herself together and approached the twins. Kneeling down in front of them, she wrapped her arms about their waists, and pulled them toward her. “Mommy and Daddy are in heaven,” she said very gently. “Remember? We talked about this.”

“Yeah,” Heidi said, pointing upward as if to demonstrate her comprehension. “But heaven’s up there in the sky.”

“And birds are, too,” Henry concurred.

“But birds come down. On the ground. So when are Mommy and Daddy going to come down on the ground, too, and come see us again?” Heidi asked plaintively.

“We miss ’em,” Henry said sadly.

“I know you do,” Claire said, her own voice thick with unshed tears. “I miss them, too. But they can’t come back and be with us, as much as we want them to.”

Heidi and Henry fell silent, their expressions both stoic and perplexed. Claire gave them another hug. “What do you say we go upstairs and I read you another story?”

“Can he come, too?” Henry pointed at Heath.

“Yeah. I bet he likes stories,” Heidi declared.

“We can’t ask Mr. McPherson to do that,” Claire said softly.

The twins both looked as if they were about to pitch a fit.

Figuring a change of mood was in order, Heath interjected, “Sure, I can. In fact, I’ve got to tell you, I am one fine story-reader. I can even do voices.”

Claire sent Heath a grateful look, making him glad he had intervened.

Heidi’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you do voices?”

“Ah!” Heath held out a hand to Henry, who looked the most ready to revolt. “I guess I’ll have to show you. What stories do you like best?”

“Ones about Bob the Builder,” Henry said, thrusting out his bottom lip.

“Ones about dolls,” Heidi declared. “And Sissy likes them, too.”

Together, they all headed through the hallway, past the formal rooms, reserved for ranch guests, and up the wide front staircase. Claire looked over their heads and mouthed, “Thank you,” to Heath.

He whispered back, “You’re welcome.”

Twenty minutes and four stories later, the twins were finally drowsy. “It’s bedtime now, for real,” Claire said. “You have preschool tomorrow morning, and you don’t want to be too tired to enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Henry stifled a yawn, holding out his arms for a hug. Claire obliged. When she released him, Henry turned to Heath, and held out his arms again.

Ignoring the sudden lump in his throat, Heath hugged the little boy. At times like this, he wished he had made better choices. If he had, he might have married a woman who wanted children as much as he did. Instead, he was still searching for a woman who wanted the same things out of life. A woman who yearned for more than a successful husband and a growing bank account.A woman who would put family first. A woman like Claire.And kids like the twins.

Heidi hugged both of them, too, then smothered a yawn with the back of her hand, too. Clasping her doll Sissy, she snuggled down into the covers. “Night,” she said, already closing her eyes.

Heath’s heart filled with tenderness.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Claire backed out of the room, Heath following suit. Soundlessly, the two of them crept down the stairs.

They walked back to the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee? I can’t drink regular this late in the evening, but I can handle decaf,” she told him.

“Sounds fine. Thanks.”

Claire released a breath. “You were great just now.”

Seeing how upset she still was, wanting to help in whatever way he could, Heath leaned in the doorway. “Does that happen often?”

“Once every couple of weeks now. Initially, it was all the time.” Claire’s hands trembled as she tried to fit the paper filter into the coffee maker. Eyes focused on her task, she continued, “The psychologist our pediatrician referred us to said that children under age eight don’t really grasp the concept of death. They don’t understand the finality of it. So it takes them a long time to really accept and adjust to the fact that their loved ones aren’t coming back, that they won’t see them again on this earth.” Claire raked her teeth across her lower lip, shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I’ve tried to explain about heaven, about how one day we’ll all be together again, but I don’t think they get that, either.”

Without warning, the tears she had been holding back splashed down her cheeks.

Heath didn’t have to think; he knew what he had to do. He crossed the kitchen in two long strides and took her into his arms. No sooner had he pulled her against his chest than the dam broke. Claire’s whole body shook with silent sobs. His shirt soaked up her tears, and still she cried, her face pressed against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms closer around her, not sure what to say, only knowing that she needed to be held as much as he needed to hold her. Finally, the shuddering stopped.

Claire wiped the heel of her hand beneath her eyes, then drew back. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“Don’t be.”

She shook her head, looking aggrieved. “I shouldn’t be behaving this way. Especially not with you…”

Heath stroked a hand through her hair. “You’ve got every right to be sad,” he soothed. But even as he spoke, he could see she didn’t want to feel that way. She wanted the mourning to be over. She wanted to be able to move on.

And he wanted to help her do that.

CLAIRE SAW THE KISS coming. Realized she could stop it. All it would take was a look, a sigh, a shake of her head. Instead, she lifted her face to his and stepped back into his embrace. Her lips parted as his touched hers, and then everything in her life that was painful and wrong, everything that should never have happened, faded away.

She reveled in the taste and smell of him, in the tenderness of his touch and the reckless abandon of his kiss. He held her as if she were the most fragile possession on earth. He kissed her as if she were the strongest. And in truth she felt both.

Like she could handle anything.

She just didn’t want to handle it alone.

Not anymore.

And that, more than anything, was why she broke off the kiss and stepped back.

They faced each other, their breathing erratic.

But the apology she half expected from Heath never came.

And it was easy to see why.

Judging from his expression, he wasn’t sorry he kissed her. Any more than she was that he had. And what was up with that? She knew better than to mix business with pleasure, to get involved with a paying guest. And she especially shouldn’t be kissing the man in charge of the twins’ trust fund. Which was why she had to get him out of here before they got any closer.

She flashed an officious smile and glided away from him. “Let me get you a cup of coffee for the walk back to your cottage.”

“Thanks.”

She filled a mug, turned and handed it to him. Their hands brushed once again as the transfer was made, and Claire felt another whisper of desire float through her, stronger than before.

Until now, she hadn’t realized how lonely she was.

Now, she knew.

And so did he.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

“Eight-thirty,” she confirmed, her heart still pounding, all her senses in overdrive.

But, as it happened, she saw him sooner than that. Heath was in the front parlor, helping himself at the breakfast buffet, when she shepherded the kids toward the front door, to wait for their preschool car pool. He was clad in a navy and—white pin-striped shirt and navy suit that made the most of his tall, muscled frame and brought out the blue of his eyes. One look at his ruggedly handsome face and enticing smile and she knew he was thinking about the kiss they’d shared, as much as she was.

Deliberately, Claire turned away. “Now, remember,” she told the twins, as she stopped at the front hall closet and took a gift-wrapped package off the shelf. “You’re going to a birthday party this afternoon. Buddy Nesbitt’s mommy and daddy are going to drive everybody to Buddy’s house, and you’re going to have pizza and birthday cake, and play games. And then when the party is over, I’m going to come and get you and drive you home.”

“Are they going to have candles?” Henry asked, standing patiently as Claire helped him into his light jacket.

“Yes. I’m sure they’ll have candles on Buddy’s cake.”

“Is he going to do that wish thing and blow them out?” Heidi asked.

“Yes, he gets to make a wish, and then he blows the candles out.”

“But he can’t tell anybody or it won’t come true,” Heidi recollected solemnly.

“Right. Birthday wishes are secret,” Claire said.

“I want a birthday,” Henry declared.

“Your birthdays are coming up next week.”

Heidi perked up. “Do we get a party?”

“You do,” Claire said. “It’s going to be at the park and you can invite all your friends. It should be a lot of fun.”

“Yes!” Henry clapped his hands together.

Hearing a car rumbling up the drive, Claire opened the door and herded the kids out to the nine-passenger vehicle. She handed the present to the mom driving the car, for safekeeping, made sure the twins were both buckled in, then stood waving as the van disappeared again.

Heath came out to stand beside her. “The twins seem okay this morning,” he noted.

Remembering how much help he had been to her the night before, she turned to him with a wry smile. “That’s the way it is. One minute they’re confused and grieving, the next it’s like nothing ever happened.”

Heath searched her eyes. “I gather you have a harder time bouncing back?”

“Unfortunately, I understand the finality of our loss.” As an image of her late sister came to mind, Claire swallowed. She focused her attention on the horizon as she confessed, “I think the holidays are going to be tough.”

Sympathy radiated in his low voice. “Your first…”

She nodded. “Without Liz-Beth and Sven, yes.” She swallowed again, then knotted her hands into determined fists at her sides. “But we’ll get through it, because we still have a lot to be thankful for.” She paused, drew a bolstering breath. “Speaking of which, you ready to go over to the ranch office and talk about how we can make the numbers work?”

He nodded, all business once again. “Lead the way.”

HEATH SETTLED IN A CHAIR on the other side of Claire’s desk, aware this wasn’t an ordinary business meeting, any more than the kiss they’d shared the night before had been ordinary. What happened in the next few weeks would either make or break Claire’s dreams for the Red Sage, while simultaneously securing the twins’ inheritance.

Heath did not want to be in the position to make that kind of impact on her hopes for the future. But it was his job. And he always did his job.

Claire folded her hands together and consulted the handwritten notes in front of her. “You said the other day that as long as the business demonstrated the potential for growth, as long as the guest ranch could turn a small profit, you wouldn’t have to sell anything.”

Trying not to notice how pretty she looked in a dark-gold sweater and brown-and-gold paisley skirt, Heath nodded. “The problem is, according to the rates you’ve set for the rooms, that’s not going to happen, with the kind of occupancy you’ve got right now.”

She leaned back in her swivel chair. “We were at capacity for seven weeks this summer.”

Heath kept his eyes locked on hers. “And not even half occupied since September.”

A delicate flush highlighted her cheeks. “I put up a Web site, and that’s bringing in some business. But obviously I’ve got to do more, which is why I’ve written to every newspaper and magazine editor in the state and let them know we’re open for quiet R & R, family reunions, business retreats.”

“When did you do that?”

Resentment colored her tone. “I started sending out letters the end of August, the beginning of September, when things slowed down.”

A good move, but possibly not enough. “What’s the response been?” Heath asked.

The evasive look was back in her eyes. She started to rise. “Can I get you some coffee?”

He respected her too much to be anything less than forthright. He shook his head in answer to her question and said, “It’s not enough just to send out brochures.”

She sank back in her desk chair and rocked back and forth impatiently. “I’ve made phone calls, too.”

“Any results?”

She hedged. “All it would take is one good review in Southwestern Living magazine, or the travel section of a Houston or Dallas paper travel section, and I’d be fully booked in no time.”

“Even if you were to get good press right now, I’m afraid it might be too little too late.”

Claire massaged the back of her neck with both hands. “If we could just hang on until next spring, and be patient…”

Heath pretended not to notice the way her posture drew his attention to her curves. “Right now the ranch is operating anywhere from five hundred dollars a month in the black to five thousand dollars in the red.”

“I know.” Claire dropped her hands. A pleading note came into her voice. “But if you average those numbers over the nine months we’ve been open, I’m only short a thousand a month.”

He wished he could cut her a break. “What about the winter months coming up?” he inquired matter-of-factly. “Do you have bookings?”

Again she looked regretful. “Some.”

“How many?”

Claire sighed. “Not enough.”

Not nearly enough, he thought in disappointment, when she reluctantly showed him her list of reservations. “Is there any other way you can bring in money?”

She tilted her head and the subtle movement brought him the lavender scent of her perfume. “We had plans to turn the barn into a party facility, use it for wedding receptions and big parties, but Sven and Liz-Beth died before we could get started on that.”

It was a good idea. Unfortunately, it couldn’t happen fast enough. “You could charge for breakfast.”

Claire disagreed. “All the big hotel chains offer free breakfast with an overnight stay now. To stay competitive, I have to do that, too.”

Silence fell as they both stared at the numbers on the pages in front of them. “Is there any equipment you could sell—like a tractor or something—to temporarily add to the profits?”

“We liquefied everything we could when we were building the cottages. What little lawn we have mowed now, that isn’t xeriscaped or returned to the wild, is done by a rancher in the area.” Claire leaned forward, and Heath sensed it was all she could do not to grip his hands. “If I can get good press, more exposure, I can turn this around.”

Heath figured he could ask around at the bank, see if anyone at the other branches had any ideas, or was in a position to call in a favor. In the meantime, he would be straight with her. “You’ve got a little less than two weeks.”

Claire was unable to mask her disappointment. “And if I can’t manage to turn things around by then?” she asked warily.

He exhaled, hating to be the bearer of bad news to such a sweet woman. “Then we’re going to have to look at doing one of two things. Lease or sell at least part of the mineral rights to the ranch. Or sell off part—or all—of the twins’ share of the business.”

If he had to do either, Heath knew, she would end up resenting the heck out of him.

There’d be no more kisses.

No more confidences.

Not even the possibility of romance.

And that really stunk.

IT WAS NEARLY EIGHT in the evening by the time Heath left the bank, grabbed a bite to eat and got back to the Red Sage. As he pulled into the parking lot, real-estate broker Ginger Haedrick drew up beside him. They got out of their vehicles at the same time.

Ginger gestured toward the office, where lights were blazing. “What’s going on?”

Through the windows, Heath could see most of the other Red Sage guests milling around Claire. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

The two of them went over to the office.

When they walked in, Heidi and Henry looked up from the toy corner. They had obviously already had their baths, and were in their pajamas.

“Hey!” Henry’s face lit up. He elbowed his sister. “Look! It’s Mr. Fearsome.”

Heidi grinned, too. She plucked a picture book off the shelf and ran over to him. “Can you read us another story with voices?”

“We went to a party today,” Henry declared, ignoring his twin. “They had cake and everything.”

“Yeah.” Heidi clutched her storybook to her chest, and peered up at Heath. “We helped Buddy blow out the candles because he couldn’t do it all by himself.”

“That’s great.” Heath smiled.

Ginger looked over at the banquet table in the corner. It was covered with a gingham tablecloth as well as boxes of pizza, paper plates and napkins. An ice-filled washtub holding canned sodas sat on the floor next to it. “Y’all having a party?” she asked, in a tone that indicated if it were true, it wasn’t much of a celebration.

“We’re helping Claire make a sales video for the ranch,” Mr. Finglestein said. He and his wife were dressed identically in khaki trousers, plaid shirts and multi-pocketed canvas vests. Both had binoculars slung around their necks. The excitement in their eyes made them look younger than their fifty-something years.

Mrs. Finglestein nodded and indicated the jumble of cameras, cables and laptops connected to Claire’s computer. “We’re letting Claire use some of the footage we’ve shot while we’ve been birding.”

T. S. Sturgeon, the mystery writer on deadline, looked up from the yellow legal pad she was scribbling on. “I’m writing the copy.” She paused and considered Heath. “You have a nice voice. Deep. Resonant. Quietly authoritative. Maybe you should do some of the voice-overs.”

Mrs. Finglestein nodded. “It would be worth your while. If you help, you get a free night’s stay.”

Claire avoided Heath’s eyes. With good reason, he thought. Making the sales video was a good idea, but reducing her profits for the month even further by giving away free lodging was not.

“Ginger could give it a try, too,” T.S. said. “Maybe have both a man and a woman speaking.”

Mrs. Finglestein nodded. “Might broaden the appeal.”

The twins tugged on Heath’s pant legs, soundlessly pleading for him to pick them up. Aware they were a little old for that, but also probably a little overwhelmed by the chaotic activity, he scooped one up in each arm.

“Read to us!” Heidi tried to give him the book, and ended up thunking him in the chin.

Claire sent them a distressed look. “Kids…!”

The door to the office opened. Mae Lefman, babysitter and part-time ranch employee, walked in.

Claire’s spine relaxed in relief.

“I got here as soon as I could,” Mae said, with a smile.

“They’re all ready for bed,” Claire told her. She crossed over to the children, and one by one, removed them from Heath’s arms, kissing and hugging them before setting them down next to Mae.

“I have work to do.” Claire knelt and faced Heidi and Henry, meeting them on their level. “SoMrs. Lefman is going to put you to bed and stay there with you until I’m finished.”

“Can Mr. Fearsome read us a story with voices?”

“No, honey, not tonight.But Mrs. Lefman will read to you.”

“How about Curious George books?” Mae suggested, holding out a hand to each twin. “They’re lots of fun.”

Wistfully, Heath watched the children walk across the yard to the ranch house. It shouldn’t matter to him who read the kids a bedtime story. But somehow it did…

Which probably meant he was getting way too involved.

“So how about it?” T.S. asked, drawing Heath back to the present. “Either of you interested in doing the voice-overs?”

“Thanks for the invitation, but Heath and I already have plans,” Ginger interjected. “I promised to show him some real-estate listings this evening so we can start looking at properties tomorrow. Maybe we can help some other time?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Claire looked at Ginger with the patience of a saint, given the agent’s rather snotty attitude. “But thank you for the offer.”

“If you need a voice-over,” Heath interjected, “or any other help, count me in. I don’t know a lot about putting together a video, but I’m a quick study.”

“Thanks. But I think we’ve got it covered. Y’all should stick to your original plans.”

She was jealous, Heath realized with surprise. And there was no reason for her to be. Now was not the time to clear that up, however. That was a discussion best had without an audience. “Well, if you think of anything I can do, let me know,” he volunteered. “I’ll be back later.”

Claire nodded and turned back to the computer screen in front of her.

Clearly resenting anything that got in the way of her making a sale, Ginger touched Heath’s elbow and escorted him toward the door. “The house I want to show you hasn’t come on the market just yet,” she said, loudly enough for everyone else to hear. “But it’s renovated and move-in ready. If you like it, we can make a preemptive bid,” she added, ignoring the fact he’d told her he did not want to purchase anything until his old home had sold. “You could be moved into your new place before the Thanksgiving holiday…”

And not so coincidentally, Heath thought, off the Red Sage. Away from Claire and the kids…

“PUSHY, ISN’T SHE?” T.S. murmured, after the two had left.

Struggling not to feel resentful, Claire shrugged, “Ginger’s just doing her job.”

“She’s after Heath,” Mrs. Finglestein stated.

So what if she was? It wasn’t Claire’s business. One kiss did not make her and Heath a couple, or anywhere close to it. They hadn’t even gone on a date. Nor were they likely to, given their complicated business relationship. “He’s single,” she said stiffly.

Mr. Finglestein studied her. “You should make a play for him,” he announced.

Claire flushed. Deep down, she’d had much the same thought. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Because you’d make a cute couple!” his wife exclaimed.

“Not everyone needs to be married.” T.S. turned to Claire with a wink. “But a little romance is always nice.”

Claire’s face was now fire-engine red. “He’s a guest!” she declared, as if that settled it.

“And you’re a woman and he’s a man,” Mrs. Finglestein quipped. “Seriously. You’re both available. We all saw the way Heath was looking at you just now. You should think about pursuing the attraction.”

“What’s the harm in generating a few sparks?” T.S. teased.

None, Claire thought. Unless her plan to make the guest ranch a success sputtered and failed, and Heath was forced—by virtue of his own responsibilities—to end her family’s dreams.