Читать книгу Married In Montana - Lynnette Kent - Страница 8

ALL DAY SATURDAY—sunrise until sundown—Bobby worked on getting his big sister to drive him to town to pick up his truck. Successful, as usual, he now sat beside her in the front seat of her Land Rover, beating a tattoo on his knees in rhythm with the tune screaming from the CD player. They’d rolled the windows down, though the night air blew cold. Between the big starry sky and the miles adding up between him and the ranch, he was beginning to feel he could breathe again.

Thea pressed a control on the steering wheel and turned the volume down.

“Hey!” Bobby reached for the button on the console. “I like that song.”

This time she punched the music off. “We need to talk.”

Here we go again. “No, we don’t.”

She ignored his protest. “What are you trying to prove with the drinking and the fighting and the stupid stunts? I have to tell you, nobody is impressed with your maturity and sense of responsibility.”

“I’m only nineteen years old, for God’s sake. I don’t have to be mature or responsible.”

“It would be nice if you were still alive when your twentieth birthday came around.”

He rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. The most life-threatening thing I do is show up for work every day, give the old man another chance to run me into the ground.”

“It’s your ranch…your life…we’re talking about here. Dad wants you to be prepared to take over when he retires.”

The words were out before he could stop them. “If he’d listen to me—just once—and realize I don’t want the damn ranch, we’d all be better off.”

Thea took her gaze off the road to stare at him. “Why not?”

Bobby dropped his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. His head still ached from last night. “When did I ever say I did?”

“You loved the place when you were little. We couldn’t convince you to come in for dinner some nights, at least not until it got too dark to work.”

“Yeah, well, I grew up.” He didn’t have the words to explain how the ranch, the old man…Thea herself…smothered him. And even if he could find the words…no way could he hurt Thea like that. She’d taken care of him since he was four years old.

“I’m not so sure.” She braked at the intersection of the ranch road with the main highway, then turned left toward town. “Adults acknowledge their responsibilities.”

He ground his back teeth. “Damn, I’m tired of that word.”

“Don’t swear at me.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” Now he sounded like a four-year-old even to himself.

They rode the thirty miles to Paradise Corners without saying anything else. Thea took the shortcut, which brought them to the Lone Wolf Bar without going through the main part of town. His truck sat right where he’d left it last night, reflecting the neon lights of the bar in its bright red finish.

Bobby pulled in a deep breath. “Thanks, Tee.” He used his childhood name for her to apologize. “I appreciate the ride.” He opened the door and dropped to the ground, then turned to give her a grin and a wave through the open window. The night was young, and there was a girl he knew…

Thea evidently had other ideas. “You’re going to follow me home, right?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Uh…no, I hadn’t planned on going home yet.”

His sister could swear with the best of the cowboys, and she did it now as she slammed the door and strode around the Land Rover to face him. She was only a couple of inches shorter and ten years older than he. That made her a strong woman, even when she wasn’t spitting mad.

Like this. “You are not going to spend tonight carousing and fighting, buddy.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not having you brought home by the deputy again. Or an ambulance. You get your butt in that truck. I’ll follow you.”

“Tee—” The problem was that he wanted to laugh. He never could get mad at his big sis. “It’s Saturday night. You don’t really want me sitting at home on Saturday night.”

“I believe we’ll all survive the experience.”

The urge to laugh faded. “Look, I promise I won’t get plowed again. I’ll stay sober as a judge.”

“You know as well as I do how much LeVay likes his scotch.” Her eyes had lost their fierceness. He was gonna win this one, too. “And you promised the same thing before you left home last night, as I recall.”

“Cross my heart.” He suited action to words. “Look, I told Megan we’d go over to Bozeman tonight. She’s supposed to get here about eight—” A beat-up Jeep rolled into the parking lot. “See, that’s her right there.”

Thea had all her antennae up now. “Does Mr. Wheeler know you’re taking Megan to Bozeman? Why didn’t you pick her up at her house?”

“Uh…sure, he knows.” He hated to lie, but he didn’t want to continue this fight in front of Megan. “I thought I’d be in town earlier than this, so she got her friend Racey to drop her off.”

The Jeep stopped right beside him, and Megan scooted out. “Thanks, Race. See ya’.” She straightened up and smiled at him. “Hey, Bobby.”

“Hey, honey.” Something about Megan’s smile, about the worship in her brown eyes and the pout of her full lower lip, glazed tonight with some kind of sparkly pink lipstick, simply took away his ability to think. “Ready for a night on the town? You look great.”

She blushed, and smoothed a hand over her short jean skirt. As if he hadn’t already noticed those long bare legs. “I’m ready.” She looked toward his sister and smiled. “Hey, Thea. How are you?”

“Just fine, thanks.” She shoved a hand through her hair and blew a breath off her lower lip. “Listen, can you get this rascal home at a reasonable hour tonight? He dragged in late and you can’t begin to imagine what kind of commotion that makes with Dad.”

Megan didn’t have it in her to lie. Bobby took her arm and stepped into the breach. “I promise, Ms. Watchdog. I’ll hit the door at midnight on my own two feet. Will that do?”

Thea drove her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I guess it’ll have to. I didn’t bring along a rope to tie you down.”

“Great. See you later, then.” He walked Megan to the truck, thanking God that he’d bought the biggest pickup on the market, because he couldn’t wait one single minute more to kiss that pink frosting right off her sweet mouth.

In the shadow of the cab, out of Thea’s line of sight, he backed Megan against the door, braced his elbows and leaned his body into hers. She was a slender little thing, yet she fit him just right. “We didn’t get a chance to say hello properly out there. Want to try again?”

For an answer, she smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers.

FROM THE DRIVER’S SEAT of the Land Rover, Thea watched until Bobby got into his truck and headed east toward the highway. She didn’t wonder why it had taken him a good ten minutes to get Megan in on the passenger side. His eyes had glazed over the minute the girl set foot on the ground. He’d have stepped on his tongue if he’d tried to walk.

She smiled slightly and sighed at the same time. Her dad had been tough on Bobby all day—not just his usual silent observation, but heavy disapproval coupled with a level of expectation his children could never meet. Robert Maxwell didn’t suffer mistakes or fools. Thea had learned over the years how to avoid both. Most of the time.

But Bobby enjoyed courting disaster. He didn’t look ahead and he didn’t look behind, and he never seemed to notice what havoc his behavior wreaked in other lives. Her own, for example. She’d been his shield, his defender, for half her life. Jolie and Cassie had taken off, leaving her to fill the role of mother/daughter/sister/ranch hand. Sure, she loved the job. She worked hard every day to earn her dad’s respect, because she loved him, too. And, of course, she loved Bobby to distraction.

“So why am I sitting here whining?” She watched folks she knew heading into the bar, but couldn’t hunt up any enthusiasm for joining them. The stores in town closed down by six on Saturdays, so she couldn’t go shopping, not that there was anything she needed to buy. A drive back out to the ranch, a check on a couple of the cows she and her dad were worried about, and then that romance novel she’d gotten in the mail but hadn’t had time to open…

“Is this your night for trouble?”

The one voice she hadn’t wanted to hear came from just outside her window. Thea turned slowly. “Well, hello, Deputy. Somebody already started a fight in there?” He had not, unfortunately, grown hairy warts or developed a squint since last night. The man was inhumanly attractive.

And his grin could melt granite. “I’ll give it a couple more hours. Most of them have to be really tanked to start hitting. Speaking of which, I notice your brother picked up his truck.”

Thea clenched her teeth. “How observant of you.”

Hands on his hips, he stared at her a second, then shook his head and tipped his hat back slightly. “My fault. That comment was uncalled for and unfair. I apologize.”

Again unfortunately, Thea could tell he meant what he said. Something cold inside of her started to thaw. “That…that’s okay. Bobby’s hard to handle. But he’s not mean.”

“I guessed that. Makes it hard to stay firm with him, I bet.”

Damn his insight. She tried to be flippant, to hide an inclination to melt even further. “Easy enough to see, since we’ve obviously spoiled him rotten.”

Rafe Rafferty didn’t move, but he withdrew as completely as if he’d stepped back three paces. “You said it, not me.” With two fingers, he resettled his Stetson. “Have a good evening, Ms. Maxwell.”

Thea refused to watch him return to his nice silver truck—she didn’t want to know how he looked from behind or how he walked, with those long legs and narrow hips. She made a big production out of getting the Land Rover started and into gear.

But she looked up just as he drove past. For a second she thought he had a woman in the passenger seat…and then realized that a dog sat straight and tall beside him, floppy ears blowing lightly in the breeze through the open window, sad and wrinkled face about as contented as a bloodhound ever could look.

Thea put her head back against the seat and groaned. Was anything ever more calculated to get and hold a woman’s attention than a gorgeous single man and his totally ugly, totally lovable dog?

That might, she decided on the quiet drive back to the ranch, be the point. A man as handsome, as polished, as Rafe Rafferty had no doubt sampled his share of girlfriends. Just last night, he’d shown how quickly he could turn to flirting. And if flirting didn’t work, a man that smart would no doubt determine the quickest, surest way to get what he wanted—including a girlfriend. A dog ranked up there with diamonds, as far as Thea was concerned. No…above diamonds. How could a cold stone compare to the unfailing love of your best friend?

But she didn’t intend to fall for the ploy. She’d learned from experience that men, especially flirtatious and handsome ones, made more trouble than they were worth. She had enough to do keeping Bobby in line—trying to keep Bobby in line—and doing her job to her dad’s satisfaction. So what if she was lonely sometimes, if her bed…her life…seemed cold?

Maybe she should just get herself a dog.

FOR FOUR GENERATIONS, the Maxwell family had occupied the same pew every Sunday in the First—and only—Methodist Church of Paradise Corners. This week was no exception.

Even though Bobby hadn’t come in until after three. Even though Thea had lain awake for the next hour, listening to her dad’s sharp reprimands and her brother’s sullen protests, cut off, in the end, by a slamming door.

They drove to town in the dark blue Cadillac Robert Maxwell had owned for almost twenty years now, with Thea in the front passenger seat and Bobby slumped in the back behind the driver. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look as if he’d spent the night before drunk. His blue shirt, yellow tie and khaki slacks were practically an apology in themselves.

But no one said a word. Thea considered making conversation, but decided she didn’t have anything to say to either of the stubborn men she lived with. As far as she was concerned this morning, the entire male sex—including and especially Deputy Sheriff Rafferty—could kick itself into that deep gorge out behind the church’s cemetery and stay there. How much simpler her life would be then.

The fall morning was gorgeous, with the foliage nearing its peak of color. A small grove of aspens beside the white-sided church building quaked in the breeze, their gold leaves like little pieces of sunlight drifting to the ground. Thea stood for a minute, appreciating the view. As she resumed her progress to the door, a tall, broad-shouldered shadow fell onto the brick walk ahead of her. Her skin prickled and her breath shortened—she didn’t have to wonder whose shade she’d stepped into. Next thing she knew, Rafe Rafferty was walking beside her.

“Do you think,” he said without looking her way, “that if I kept to the weather and the scenery, we could possibly get through a whole conversation without some kind of insult?”

She barely held in her chuckle. “Depends on what you have to say about the scenery. I’m not making any guarantees ahead of time, if you’re planning on insulting Paradise Corners.”

He heaved a loud sigh. “I was just thinking how green Montana is. Even with the leaves turning, there’s some kind of green everywhere you look.”

“That’s the evergreens—white pine and lodgepole pine, the cedars and junipers and spruces. Even when the last leaves fall, there’s still color in the trees.” She watched him out of the sides of her eyes, noticed his nice-fitting chocolate-brown suede jacket and dark green corduroy slacks. She caught herself admiring him and administered a mental slap. Of course a Los Angeles playboy would have a sense of style. “I guess you don’t have as many trees in southern California.”

“Palms and eucalyptus, avocados and scrub junipers. They’re technically trees, technically green. But—” he gestured at the foothills “—not nearly this rich. The air here smells like Christmas every day.”

“Wait until summer. A lot of the time between last July and September all you could smell was smoke from the wildfires.”

They’d reached the church door, where a couple of deacons shook hands in welcome and passed out bulletins. The first, a short, spare man, reached up for his usual kiss. “Howdy, Miss Thea. You’re looking pretty this morning.”

“Thanks, Uncle G.” He wasn’t really her uncle, but she’d practically grown up with him, since he supplied Walking Stones with feed of every kind. “Have you met the new deputy? Deputy Rafferty, George Dillon, of Dillon’s Feed and Tack.”

The deputy held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Mr. Dillon.”

Uncle G. took it with the enthusiasm of a man reaching under a rock and expecting a snakebite. “Deputy.”

Rafe saw Thea Maxwell’s straight black eyebrows draw together as she noticed George Dillon’s cool welcome. But after three weeks, Rafe was used to the town’s cold shoulder.

The next greeter Thea introduced him to was a woman. “Miss Barbara, this is the new deputy, Rafe Rafferty. Rafe, Miss Sentry owns the beauty salon.”

Distracted by hearing his first name in Thea’s husky, musical voice, Rafe almost missed the salon owner’s lifted eyebrow.

“Deputy.” Her tone could have shriveled lemons. She did not extend her hand.

He bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Sentry.”

At the door to the sanctuary, Thea glanced back toward the gauntlet they’d just run, her honest eyes troubled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe advised, setting a palm to her waist to draw her inside. “Can you sit with me?”

But that was a mistake. She stiffened under his hand and stepped away. “I…thanks, but no. I’m sitting with my dad and…and Bobby.” With a nod, she left him standing in the middle of the aisle and wove her way through the crowd until she reached the safety of the front pew, where she planted herself between Robert and Bobby Maxwell.

Good thinking, Rafe told her silently. If you weren’t protected, I might attack you right here, right now.

He recognized his own bitterness. And he recognized that meeting Thea Maxwell had done a number on his equanimity. He coped with the distrust, the dislike, of people like George and Barbara, understood that he would have to earn their acceptance. That was okay—he would rather prove himself than simply weasel his way into the job and then not be able to handle it.

But Thea appealed to him, and his pride demanded that she reciprocate the feeling. Every time he tried to approach her on a man-to-woman basis she spooked. Rafe had broken his share of horses, and he’d had more luck with kindness and patience than with force. This time, he couldn’t seem to make the right move. He only wanted to be friends, for God’s sake.

He thought about the inviting curve of her mouth, and amended his intention. Friends to begin with. What could be so threatening about that?

At the end of a service he didn’t pay much attention to, he shook the preacher’s hand at the front door, then stepped a few yards off the walk to examine the small, walled cemetery beside the church. Maxwell headstones stood and leaned everywhere he looked—most members of the family for the last hundred years must have been buried in this spot.

A glance back at the doorway showed him Robert Maxwell greeting the minister, with Bobby and Thea in her bright red jacket just behind. Rafe approved of the straight black skirt she wore, the strong but slender legs her blue flannel pj’s had hidden. Each glimpse he got of her added something positive to the overall picture. The smile she sent him now was downright friendly. Even encouraging, he decided, and went back to try again.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Maxwell, Bobby.”

The rancher turned a rock-hard stare on him. For a second, Rafe wondered if Robert would shoot first and ask questions later. That kind of threat hung in the air.

But the older man settled for a solemn nod. “Deputy.” Then he turned his back on Rafe and strode toward the parking lot, obviously expecting Thea and Bobby to follow.

The boy stared after his father, shaking his head. “You’d think an hour in church would have reminded him that he’s not God.”

“Bobby!” Thea’s cheeks flushed as bright as her jacket, but she laughed. “Maybe we just don’t realize that the Almighty delegated Montana to him.” She glanced at Rafe. “Sorry.”

“No problem. Do you have plans for lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“Both of you, I mean.” The wariness in her eyes had him backing up, slowing down. Make it a family affair first. “Grizzly’s serves pretty decent roast beef on Sunday. I can’t offer home cooking—I’ve only got one plate and one mug.”

Thea looked at Bobby, hoping for some help, but he was surveying the crowd, searching for Megan, no doubt. That left her to deal with the deputy on her own. “Um…why only one plate?”

Rafe Rafferty’s grin should have been a controlled substance. “The moving company has ‘temporarily misplaced my shipment.’ Meaning that they lost my boxes and furniture and haven’t figured out where they are yet.” He shrugged. “I’m trying not to replace any more than I have to.”

“Makes sense.” Which was more than she could say for the butterflies in her stomach. He was going to repeat his invitation. And she would have to turn him down. He would take it wrong, which was a good thing, because she really didn’t want him to think she was interested….

“So, are you free for lunch?”

Bobby had disappeared. Thea gathered her wits. “I—I’m afraid not.” As expected, his eyes cooled. He took a physical step back. “M-my sister Cassie and her little boy are coming over this afternoon. They’ll be there by the time we get home.” And in any normal world, she’d invite him to join them. As a neighbor. As a possible…friend.

But this was Robert Maxwell’s world, and she knew what kind of reaction such an invitation would receive. The situation with Cassie and Zak was strained enough. They didn’t need an outsider looking on. No matter how nice, no matter how gorgeous he might be. “But thanks for the offer.”

She tried a smile, and got a slight one back. “Sure.” Then the deputy took off, leaving her with the agonizing pleasure of watching him walk away, his shoulders straight, his head high.

You’re out! she thought. He’d given her three chances and she’d blown him off each time. There wasn’t much hope that he’d try again.

Swallowing down regret and disappointment, Thea joined her dad in the Cadillac.

His impatient stare informed her he’d been waiting. “Where’s your brother?”

“I saw him with Dan Aiken and Racey Taylor.” And Megan. But if she told him that, there would be hell to pay. Bobby wasn’t here, so that would leave the accounting to her. And she was in no mood for the hassle. “I didn’t catch him before he drove off with them.”

“He’s supposed to come home for lunch with your sister, dammit.” Despite the anger in his voice, he drove as calmly, as efficiently, as he did everything. As if his emotions didn’t affect his actions at all.

“We’ll ask them to stay for dinner. I bet Bobby will be home by then.”

Her dad cracked a laugh. “That’s a bet you’re likely to lose.”

Thea put her head back and closed her eyes. “I know.”

Boy, do I know.

CASSIE MAXWELL WARREN’S five-year-old Toyota was parked in the front driveway when they arrived home. Pulling around to the garage behind the house, they could see Cassie standing by a corral near the horse barn across the ranch road, her arm around little Zak as he balanced on a fence rail, staring at the horses.

“The boy likes it here,” Robert Maxwell commented.

Thea unhooked her seat belt. “I was looking at that yearling foal of Misty’s the other day, thinking he could make a good ride for Zak in a couple of years. He might even be able to help with the training, when the colt’s ready.”

Her dad nodded, his eyes still on his grandson. “Cassie would need to bring him over more than once a month.”

He never came much closer to admitting that he missed his middle daughter, or wanted to see more of her and her son. Thea smiled. “Maybe you could mention the colt while they’re here today. We can ride out after lunch and show him to Zak.”

“Maybe.” And that was as much enthusiasm as he’d ever given one of her suggestions. “Guess I’ll go over and say hello.”

“I’ll check in with Beth to see if she needs help.” The chances of their housekeeper needing help with Sunday dinner were about the same as getting a “Great job!” out of Robert Maxwell.

But Zak was still getting used to the family he hadn’t known he had. Cassie had crowned her adolescent rebellion with marriage to a man their dad had refused to allow on the property. And while he’d been proven right—Cassie’s ex-husband hadn’t had the strength or commitment to support a wife and baby—the rift between father and daughter had taken several years to bridge, years in which Zak didn’t meet his grandfather, or his aunts and uncle. The little boy tended to shy away from contact if too many of them approached him at the same time. Thea figured she could wait until they all sat down at the table for her own greeting.

But even then, Zak flinched away from her smile, hiding his face against his mother’s arm. Cassie laughed, but her cheeks reddened. “Thea won’t bite, silly,” she told him, ruffling his bright red hair. “Can’t you say hello?” Zak shook his head without looking up.

“Don’t worry about it,” Thea said, taking the bowl of mashed potatoes from her dad. “Zak and I can take a walk after lunch, see if we can spot some deer prints down on the creek bank. We had a doe and two half-grown fawns down there several mornings this week. The mountain snows are starting to push the wildlife to lower ground.”

“Deer season starts next weekend,” Herman commented. “Bobby and me were talking about heading out Saturday morning. You coming, Boss?”

“Too much work left to take off hunting.” Across the table, Zak sat up wide-eyed, staring at his granddad. He was young, but not too young to understand the conversation.

“The work’ll be here when we get back. The season only lasts a few weeks.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“How’s work, Cassie?” The two men raised their eyebrows at Thea’s abrupt diversion. She shook her head at them, with a pointed glance at Zak. They wouldn’t be the ones who had to explain deer hunting to a little boy who still liked to watch Bambi.

Her sister gave Thea a grateful smile. “I saw one of my cases settled just this week—the court gave full custody of three little girls to their mother, after the dad had refused, several times, to return them once his visitation period had ended.”

“Father ought to have some rights to be with his children,” their own commented.

“Then he shouldn’t have walked out in the first place and taken up with a girl nearly young enough to be his daughter!” Cassie’s sharp reply earned her a stern stare. But even as a teenager, she’d never backed down from a confrontation. “The fact that he shares genes with those little girls doesn’t make him their father. Time and attention and affection are the contributions of a real parent.”

Robert Maxwell’s fierce hazel gaze clashed with Cassie’s equally furious one across the table. The tense silence might have lasted all afternoon, but Beth cleared her throat, got to her feet and picked up the empty chicken platter. “I’ve got blackberry cobbler and ice cream for dessert. You girls help me clear the table and we’ll bring in coffee.”

In the kitchen, Cassie set the plates she carried by the sink, then went to stand at the window of the back door. Thea could read a desperate battle for control in the ramrod straightness of her sister’s spine.

“I don’t think he meant to argue with you,” she ventured after bringing in a second armload of dishes. “That’s just his way of asking a question. Like…‘Couldn’t they work out some compromise?”’

Cassie’s shoulders shook on a little laugh. “Thanks for the interpretation. Maybe what we all need is a dictionary of Maxwell-speak. ‘Drive safe’ means ‘It was good to see you, come back real soon.”’ She rubbed the back of her neck. “Where’s Bobby this afternoon?”

“That’s a very good question.” Beth placed saucers and coffee cups on a tray. “I make that boy his favorite lunch and he doesn’t show up to eat it. He’ll be hearing about that this week, especially when he comes around trying to sweet-talk me into fried chicken again.” She pushed the door into the dining room with an ample hip and carried the dessert tray through.

Thea opened the freezer and pulled out the ice cream. “Bobby went off with Jerry and Dan after church. And Megan Wheeler.”

“Is he crazy?” Cassie turned sharply to face her. “Dad hates Mr. Wheeler almost as much as Mr. Wheeler hates him back for buying that farm out from under him. Bobby doesn’t really think he’ll get away with dating Megan, does he?”

“I don’t know what he thinks. I haven’t talked to him about it. Maybe you can.” Cassie and Bobby were alike in temperament, if not in looks. Both of them possessed a streak of stubborn wildness that drove their dad crazy. Not to mention making life eventful for everybody else living in the house. Thea had moderated a thousand arguments over the years…mollified a thousand hurt feelings and short tempers. No wonder she’d grown into a prickly, suspicious woman. She’d taken on everybody else’s thorns.

“We’ve got a new deputy in town these days.” She bit her tongue. What had possessed her to share that information, from out of thin air, no less?

“Beth said he brought Bobby home the other night because our dear brother was too drunk to drive. Is he drinking a lot?”

“Yeah, he is.” Dread welled up in her chest. Putting the thought into words made it so much more real. “Two or three nights a week, he’s in town at one of the bars. He says it’s no big deal.”

“Denial.” Cassie took the ice-cream scoop out of the drawer. “You’d better talk some sense into him before it’s too late.”

The command didn’t sit well with Thea. “I talk to him all the time. I’m the only one who does. Why don’t you shoulder some of the responsibility for what’s going on? He’s your brother, too.”

Just like that, they launched into yet another echo of fights from days gone by. Cassie crossed her arms over her chest. “I have just about as much as I can handle these days, working full time at Child Protective Services and taking care of Zak. It seems to me that you have more opportunity—”

Thea chopped at the air with the side of her hand. “Only because nobody else will take the time or make the effort—”

“Excuse me.” Beth’s sharp voice jerked them out of their squabble. “If you ladies don’t mind, the rest of us would like ice cream with our cobbler. Not to mention a little peace and quiet.”

Without looking at her sister, Thea picked up the slightly soggy ice-cream box and the scoop, then stalked through the door the housekeeper held open. Aware of Herman’s amusement and her dad’s frown, she ladled sloppy vanilla cream over each bowl of cobbler and took the box back to the freezer before sitting down to her own portion. No one at the table said a word. They finished their desserts in record time.

But only little Zak, happily smearing himself, his shirt and the tablecloth with purple berries and sticky cream, actually enjoyed the food.