by Dana Mentink
Liam fired up the engine and turned on the radio to a news station. He didn’t much care about the chatter but the voices comforted him. The inevitable mental quiz scrolled through his mind. Was the sound fainter? Less distinct? A familiar twist in his stomach started up again. You can still hear it. You’re all right. But how much longer until he couldn’t? The stapedectomy on his left ear had failed to correct the otosclerosis that had forced him to leave the Green Berets. He didn’t blame God for the misfortune; he’d learned as a kid that life was sometimes a rough ride through bad country. The trick was to gather up all the joy along the way and wait it out until the end. Home with God. A perfect home. The kind he’d always envisioned.
Before he coud drive away, he spotted Chad Jaggert hauling a blue spruce out of the truck and hopped out to help. “Hey,” he called, not expecting much of a reply. Younger, leaner, and way quieter than Liam and Mitch, Chad made about as much noise as a mouse wearing slippers. Unless the topic was horses or possibly boats, it was going to be a one-sided conversation. Silent, thoughtful and fiercely loyal, that was Chad, the man Liam considered to be his younger brother.
“Hey,” Chad replied, pulling on a pair of leather gloves and shouldering the tree.
“Hasn’t Aunt Ginny got enough Christmas trees?”
Chad shrugged. “She wanted it. I got it.”
And that about summed up what any of the four—Mitch, Liam, Helen and Chad—would do for Aunt Ginny.
Uncle Gus strode up, accepting his licking from Jingles. “Another tree?” He grinned. “I’m surprised she’s limited herself to five.”
“Six,” Chad said. “Got one for the tower room yesterday.”
Gus laughed outright, pulling off his cowboy hat and scrubbing a hand through his silvered hair. “That woman delights me.”
That woman.
Liam thought for a moment of Tammy Lofton. She’d been zany and impulsive, with a fun-loving outlook, but for some reason they just hadn’t clicked. He’d had other relationships that didn’t work out of course, but when she’d gone, it had left him off balance and uncertain, like a hobbled horse. If he analyzed it, the situation might have affected him especially deeply because the relationship had failed as his hearing loss had accelerated. Good thing he wasn’t prone to self-analysis.
Uncle Gus punched him playfully on the shoulder and he realized he’d not heard the last comment. He thumbed his cowboy hat back and offered a grin, which he figured fit the previous tone of the conversation, a trick that often helped him through.
“Listen, if you see your sister, tell her I’ve got the tables she needed for the festival on Wednesday. I stopped in earlier to see her but she wasn’t available.”
That made Liam take note. Not returning calls, not available at the Lodge. “Okay,” he said. “I’m droppin’ off this saddle at the Chuckwagon and then I’m headed over there. Feed’s been delivered.”
The Roughwater Ranch cattle were grass fed, but years of drought had made it necessary to supplement with hay and alfalfa. Now that they’d gotten some winter rains, the grass was reviving, and the wells and natural springs were also gradually replenishing.
Uncle Gus headed to the kitchen door to open it for Chad. Liam and Jingles headed to the Chuckwagon.
The parking lot was full at half past ten, a sure sign that holiday crowds were building. The two enormous wagon wheels that flanked either side of the wooden doors were twined with tinsel and Christmas music wafted out as he left Jingles in the truck with the window open a few inches.
“Be right back and don’t chew the upholstery.”
Jingles looked hurt, as though offended he wasn’t invited to come along. Liam shouldered the saddle and went inside.
Nan greeted him over the noisy bustle of diners. “Here for breakfast, Liam?”
“No, ma’am. Just delivering your saddle.”
“Super, since there’s not an empty table in the place. I don’t know what I would have done if Tammy hadn’t showed up.”
“Tammy?”
“Yeah. She came in this morning and I hired her back immediately. She’s been an absolute lifesaver.” Nan shook her head. “Weird. When she was here last, she was a server only, said she couldn’t even boil water, and now it’s like she’s perfectly at home behind the stove. Even baked the pumpkin pies this morning, before her waitressing shift. I don’t know how she doctored the filling, but, man, are they luscious. Why didn’t I know she was a kitchen savant?”
Why indeed? He scanned the diners and servers. “Where is she?”
“I’m sending her over to the Lodge with the order of pies for their lunch service. Think she’s loading up the van right now.”
He thanked her and left the saddle, hurrying back outside. The Chuckwagon van was parked in the back, the rear doors open. Tammy was sliding in the last pastry box, her dark hair draped forward over her eyes. Jeans and a Chuckwagon T-shirt made her look much younger than her thirty-two years—or maybe it was her slender frame and lace-up sneakers.
“Morning,” he said.
She jumped, whirling to face him. “Oh...hi.”
“Understand you’re working here again.”
“Um, yes.” She slammed the back doors and made to edge by him to the driver’s seat. The closer he came, the more the sensation that something was amiss trickled through his gut. “Taking these pies over to the Lodge.”
“Right. Can we talk a minute?”
“No, not right now. Delivering, as I said.”
She reached for the door and he caught her hand in his. Small fingers, strong and pleasantly toughened from hard work, but tiny and delicate. Strange. He remembered her hands being soft as silk.
“Aw,” he said. “You have a half second for one quick question right? For old time’s sake?”
She froze, head angled down so the hair shadowed her face. He let go of her hand and slid a finger under her chin, gently tipping it upward. The eyes that greeted his were familiar, the combined green and brown of summer turning to fall. Familiar, but not completely. A halo of gold edged the irises, molten and vibrant. “Tam, your eyes have kind of a green tint, you know,” he said slowly. “But now I’m looking close, I see a wash of gold there, like the sun setting into the ocean.”
Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. “Uh...” she managed to finally say. “I have to hurry and get back for the lunch rush.”
He let the smile ease over his face as he leaned a fraction closer until the brim of his cowboy hat shadowed them both. “Just one question,” he murmured.
She tried to look away but again he guided her gaze back to his with the lightest pressure under her chin. The gold was sparked with concern as she stared at him, one lip caught between her teeth.
“Who are you really?” he said.
* * *
Caught. Nan and the few patrons who’d assumed she was her sister had asked no questions. Even the man who’d seemed intent on killing her had mistaken her for Tammy. But there was no deceiving the cowboy who stood before her, every inch a stubbled and stubborn man, steely eyed and determined.
She eased back a step, away from the touch of his long, calloused fingers, and folded her arms across her chest, desperately trying to identify an escape route. When she risked a look, he was regarding her from under the brim of his cowboy hat with a half smile that spoke of amusement rather than anger.
“You’re not Tammy. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Maggie,” she mumbled to her shoes.
“A little louder, if you don’t mind,” he said, cocking his head slightly.
Sucking in a breath, she leveled a square look at him, noting that his irises were the color of stonewashed denim.
“My name is Maggie Lofton. I’m Tammy’s twin sister.”
“You don’t say?” Now his smile was wider, as if the information amused him. “Not ident
ical, now that I’m really looking.”
His frank stare did not make her uncomfortable for some reason, just worried that she had already messed up on her impromptu investigation.
“Fraternal,” she said. “I’m the younger one by two minutes.”
He laughed at that and she found herself smiling.
“Tammy told me she had a sister. I don’t recall hearing you were twins.”
It was Maggie’s turn to fix him with a look. “You two dated for four months, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you tell her everything about your life?”
That made him blink and look away for a moment, gaze shifting from her to the winter sky. “No,” he said. “I guess I didn’t.”
“Okay, well I’m glad we talked and I’m sorry I wasn’t forthcoming right away. I, uh, have a good reason, if that means anything. Um, see you later.”
“Uh-uh. You owe me an explanation.” The soft drawl in his voice did not lessen the intensity of his command.
She wanted to tell him she owed him nothing, but she recalled the feel of his muscles struggling to haul her up over the lighthouse railing. In fact, she owed him her life. The reality of that made her want to sprint away into the tall green grass that edged the parking area.
“I...” she started to say when his phone rang, too loud. She figured he had it turned up so that he could hear it.
“Hang on one minute, ma’am,” he said.
She sighed. “First off, now that you know my real name, you can knock off the ma’am thing. Second, I’m not waiting. I have to go.”
But he was already answering the phone. The genial inquisitiveness in his expression turned to concern. “I’m on my way,” he told the caller.
She took it as her reprieve until he shoved the phone into the rear pocket of his faded jeans.
“That was my sister, Helen. She asked me to come ASAP to discuss a situation.”
“Sounds serious. You should go.”
He was silent for a moment, drawing out his keys. He whirled the key ring around his finger, expression calculating in a way that made her squirm. She’d just decided to forget the debt she owed Liam, get into the van and put as much distance as she could between the two of them when he spoke again.
“Helen said she called over here to the Chuckwagon just now and heard I was chatting with you, so she told me to bring you along. That will suit, since you’re headed there anyway, right—” he added after a pause “—Maggie?”
FIVE
There seemed to be no choice at all, so Maggie, in the van, followed Liam to the Lodge, wondering the entire ten-mile journey why Liam’s sister had summoned her. Tammy had mentioned Helen a few times—they were friends—but Maggie could not imagine what Helen wanted.
At least it had bought her some time to avoid Liam’s questions. He’d busted her right and proper. So far she had discovered nothing about whom her sister might have entrusted with the jewelry Virgil Salvador sought so desperately or where her sister might possibly be staying. How much longer would it be before she heard from her?
Tammy, where are you? Tension knotted her already taut muscles even tighter. And something else zinged along her nerves: a strange buzz that had started up when she’d looked into Liam’s face as he’d described her eyes... A wash of gold there, like the sun setting into the ocean.
Tammy had always been the one to whom men paid attention...her outgoing, bubbly spirit, the long, fashionable hair and trendy outfits. It was just the way things were and it had never caused Maggie a moment of angst. She wasn’t the belle of the ball, more like the star of the stove, which suited her just fine. Liam’s scrutiny unsettled her. That was all. Who wouldn’t be rattled with the current situation?
There was no more time to mull it over as she pulled the van up at her destination. She marveled at the rich wood exterior and peaked roof of the rustic building. Enormous Christmas trees, glittering with ornaments, flanked either side of the substantial front doors. The porch itself housed cozy cushioned benches and pots of crimson poinsettias. Liam caught up to her, Jingles’s nails scrabbling on the flagstones in hot pursuit.
He stepped ahead and pulled open the heavy oak door for her. Though his smile was pleasant, concern pinched the corners of his mouth.
“Jingles, you stay out—” Liam didn’t finish his sentence before the dog trotted right into the pine-scented lobby.
Giggling, Maggie sailed in, too, leaving Liam grumbling along behind her. The lobby was as glorious as the exterior, all dark woods and comfy seating areas, illuminated by a massive chandelier formed from a collection of antlers. Cheerful clusters of people sipped cider and hot chocolate. The stone fireplace dwarfed the space, the mantel artistically decorated with greenery, crystal icicles and a white porcelain Nativity scene. Yet another Christmas tree, this one decorated with gold and silver balls, stood sentry near the front desk.
A woman with auburn hair twisted into a neat chignon, despite the pencil skewered through the elegant twist, hurried out to meet them. She blinked when she saw Maggie before she extended a manicured hand. “I’m Helen, Liam’s sister.”
Liam didn’t waste time on the niceties. “What’s wrong? Why did you need to see us both? How did you know she was Maggie, not Tammy?”
“Stand down, soldier,” she said. “Come with me.” She led them behind the front desk, nodding pleasantly to the couple checking in with the young employee. “Welcome to Roughwater Lodge,” she called out before they entered a quiet hallway and climbed a narrow flight of stairs.
On the way, Maggie caught the scent of something savory cooking in the kitchen. Her brain automatically sorted the scents into their elements: chicken, garlic, thyme, perhaps bay leaves and white onion.
“We’re completely booked,” Helen was saying. “My room was the only place.”
“Place for what?” Liam said, scooping up Jingles as he tried to scamper ahead of them. “This dog has zero manners.”
“Devoted, just like I said,” Helen quipped over her shoulder. She opened a door at the top of the stairs that led to a charming sitting room impeccably decorated in elegant creams with touches of green and exposed wood beams overhead. A real Christmas tree scented the room, ornamented with white lights and what looked to be tiny, handcrafted leather ornaments, each a different animal.
“Stay here for a second. I’ll be right back.”
“Helen...” Liam started, but she’d disappeared into what Maggie assumed was the bedroom.
Maggie moved to the tree and examined the branches, fingering a tiny mouse ornament with delicate ears and a cheeky grin. “These are amazing.”
He shrugged. “They’re okay. I got better as I went.”
She was awed by the craftsmanship but more by the whimsical nature of the figures. “You made these?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a saddler, gotta be good with leather.”
But the ornaments were more than well-crafted bits of leather, they were infused with a charm and sweetness she would not have expected.
“Used to have this mouse that took up residence in our pantry when we were kids. Helen was never scared of that thing. Had to talk her out of leaving it little cheese presents. She named it Lucy Lee.”
She laughed. “Family name?”
Liam did not return the smile. “Mom’s name.”
There was such a depth of emotion in the two words, a flash of pain hidden in the navy depths of his eyes. She wanted to ask but did not dare and he did not offer so she sat in a richly upholstered armchair.
Liam removed his hat and put the wriggling dog on the floor. Jingles scampered over to Maggie. “Your dog is pigeon-toed,” she said, scratching the animal behind the crooked ears until his doggie eyes rolled in pleasure.
“That’s not the only thing cockeyed about this dog, believe me,” Liam
muttered. Hands on hips, he stared at the doorway, mouth working in thought. He was, she noticed again, an extremely handsome man.
And he probably knows it, she thought. Was that why Liam and Tammy had not become anything permanent? Annoyed by her own thoughts, she straightened as Helen entered.
“Okay. Come on back,” she said.
Once again, Liam deferred to Maggie, allowing her to pass him and enter the bedroom. It was another beautiful room, complete with a slender Christmas tree decorated all in silver, but Maggie had no eyes for any of it. All she could do was cry out and run to the pale woman lying in the bed, a bandage taped to her forehead.
“Tammy,” she whispered, gathering her sister in her arms and trying to hide the tears.
* * *
Liam could only gape. When he summoned the wherewithal to close his mouth, he stared from Helen to the sniffling sisters and back again. “What...?” He stared. “I mean...why...?” He rubbed a palm over his beard-roughened chin when the words failed him again.
Helen raised an amused eyebrow. “Need a minute to formulate your question?”
“I’m circling around to it,” he said, marshaling his thoughts.
Helen beat him to it. “You’re probably wondering what Tammy is doing here.”
“That is the question that rises to the top of the list,” he said as Maggie finally released her sister and they both wiped their eyes.
He found he was not distressed at the sight of his former girlfriend as much as completely befuddled.
Jingles, bored of the proceedings, leaped up onto the bed and nestled down next to Tammy. Liam was going to scold him severely when Maggie began to stroke the dog and Helen smiled adoringly at the mutt. He bit back his rebuke. Jingles had an uncanny ability to charm women. He wished he could do the same.
Tammy looked wan under the bandage on her temple, the fire missing in her words when she spoke. “Hi, Liam.”
“Good to see you, Tammy,” he said, politeness winning out temporarily over his aggravation.
