Finally Home (25 page)

Sophie settled cautiously onto the seat and took a leather rein in each hand. “Okay,” she said and slapped the lines gently against the mare's haunches. “Walk.”

Evie pushed forward, felt the resistance, and stopped in her tracks, turning her head in question.

“Walk,” Sophie repeated and slapped the reins a little more assertively.

“Come on, girl,” Ty said and tugged at the bridle.

Evie stepped forward. The sleigh lurched . . . and she bolted.

“Whoa!” Sophie commanded, but it was Ty's weight on the bridle that pulled her to a halt after a few frenetic strides.

“You okay?” he asked, one hand on the mare's neck again.

“Yeah. I'm fine,” Sophie said and tried to swallow her fear.

“You wanna try it again?”

“Do you think I'm crazy?”

“This
was
your idea, so I kinda gotta assume . . .”

She laughed. The sound was jittery but still did something to calm her nerves. “Okay,” she said and braced her feet against the dash again. “Nice and slow.”

He nodded. “Come on, girl,” he said and stepped forward, urging the mare along after. She took a step. The sleigh dragged behind. She tucked her hindquarters under her, but Ty was already pulling her to a halt. “Good job. That's right. No trouble here. Nothing to be scared of.”

It was a complete falsehood, Sophie thought, but twenty minutes later, Evie was pulling them both around the arena. Now and then she would jiggle a little, but for the most part she was the epitome of sensible.

Sophie blew out her breath and smiled at Ty, who sat only inches away. “Do you want to try her on the road?”

“What was that question about crazy?”

“Even if she freaks out, we should be able to stop her if we're both on the lines.”

“You think so?”

“Well . . . like you said, you're stronger.”

“I didn't say that,” he countered. “Although . . .” He grinned a little, the slightest twitch of his lips. “I
am
.”

She laughed out loud. Euphoria felt strange. “What's the worst that could happen?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought. “We could both die.”

“Besides that.”

“The horse could get injured. We could wreck Em's raspberry bushes. Jack could bust a leg when we run over him. That new rental car Max got might—”

“Open the gate,” she said and he did.

After that there was no stopping them. The sun smiled down like a kindly cherub, casting diamonds on the snow that slid beneath their runners. Jack barked as he raced alongside.

By the time they returned to the ranch, Evie's steps were slow and flatfooted.

Ty stowed the harness as Sophie led the mare back to her pasture companions.

Evening eased into darkness. The moon, a small sliver of gold, drifted over the hills, gilding the world.

The two of them were silent as they headed toward the house. Sophie cleared her throat. “Thank you.” Her voice was little more than a murmur.

“My pleasure,” he said.

“Really?” She glanced toward him.

“Do I look crazy?” he asked.

She chuckled, and as their gazes met in a soft meld of feelings, he slipped his hand carefully around hers.

CHAPTER 26

“I
've got an . . .” Philip Jaegar began, but Monica jumped in.

“We,”
she corrected, eyes alight.

Philip smiled.
“We,”
he agreed. They had returned to the Lazy less than an hour before. “
We
have an announcement.”

Ty held his breath. He could feel Sophie's angst from across the table. Her gaze slipped to his, wide and earnest.

“We found a place.”

Emily and Casie exchanged glances. Em's eyes looked tired.

“A place?”

“A farm,” Philip said, and reaching up, clasped his ex-wife's perfectly manicured fingers. “A home.”

Absolute silence met that declaration.

Philip inhaled heavily and grinned. “Sophie, honey . . .” He paused, but whether it was for dramatic effect or out of honest excitement, it was impossible to tell. “Your mother and I are getting back together.”

Sophie's mouth formed an O as round as her eyes, but Ty had no idea what the expression meant. Hope? Fear? Sometimes the two were so tightly enmeshed, it was impossible to tell the difference, even in one's self. How many times had
his
mother checked into treatment? How many times had he hoped?

“That's great.” Colt's words fell into the void like a block of ice. “So you'll all be living together.”

“Yes.”

Colt nodded. “Where's this land at?”

“That's the best part,” Philip gushed. “It's not just land. It's got an existing house.”

“Which we'll raze,” Monica said.

Her husband grinned. “Which we'll raze,” he agreed. “But we'll be able to live in it while the new one is being built.”

“Where's it at?” Sophie asked, repeating Colt's question.

Jaegar exhaled. “The prettiest place in the world.”

Sophie paled a little more.

“California,” he said.

Ty felt something crack in his chest.

“That's where we've been the past few days,” he continued, tone rife with exuberance. “Your mother thought I was crazy when I suggested it, but once she saw the place—”

“Oh, Sophia, you'll just love it,” Monica said. “The hill upon which we'll build our home overlooks the vineyards.”

“There are vineyards?” Sophie's voice was as pale as her cheeks.

“She doesn't care about the vineyards,” Philip said and laughed. “Tell her about the barn.”

“Oh, the barn!” Monica said, and squeezing her husband's fingers, rolled her eyes as if in ecstasy. “It's got stained glass windows, an air-conditioned lounge, and a separate stall for bathing horses.”

You could have heard a cricket chirp. Casie spoke into the abyss.

“That sounds . . .” She shook her head. “Wonderful.”

“Hot water!” Philip added suddenly. “It's got hot water in the barn.”

“Not that you'll need it,” Monica said. “Because the climate is so much better than . . .” She paused and shivered dramatically as she glanced around the table. “Well . . . let's face it, this isn't exactly Nirvana.”

“But I thought . . .” Sophie began, then stopped herself.

“What, honey?” her father asked.

“I thought we were going to have a place around here so we could take in Marley and his band.”

“I'm sure there are horses in California that need help, too,” Monica said.

“Sure,” Philip agreed, then frowned a little as if noticing his daughter's expression for the first time. “Or . . .” He brightened. “We can take Marley down there with us.”

Sophie tilted her head a little. “I don't think—”

“Well . . .” He waved his hand. “We'll worry about that later. For now I'd like to make a toast.” He raised his water glass. “To new beginnings.”

They all chimed in.

Ty hoped to hell he wasn't going to be sick.

 

“Did you get those hinges welded?” Monty asked. Colt's dad didn't wear a hat, but his hair, just turning silvery gray, was as thick as thatch.

Ty stopped shoveling feed to the heifers and rested the edge of his scoop on the ground. Seventy-three angus yearlings were spread out in an arc around him. Steam rose from their nostrils as they masticated their meal. Ty tightened his grip on the handle. “I guess that sleigh took longer than I planned.”

Monty nodded. “You did a good job on that, but the welding's got to be done, too.”

“I'll get at it tonight,” he said and returned to his current task, but Monty wasn't finished.

“What'd your girl think of it?”

“My—”
Ty actually jumped. “Sophie ain't my girl.”

“Whose is she then?” he asked.

“I . . .” Ty's nerves were hopping. His face felt warm. “She's her own girl, I suppose.”

“Just cuz a horse ain't branded, don't mean it's not yours.”

“She ain't . . .” Ty began, but then he recognized the spark in the older man's eyes. It was the same look Colt often got. Generally speaking, someone punched him in the shoulder shortly after. Ty drew a deep breath and glanced toward the west where the sun was just sinking beneath the snow-covered slopes. There wasn't no way in hell he was going to take a swing at Monty Dickenson. “She's moving to California.”

Dickenson lowered his bushy brows.

“Her folks are buying some land there.”

“I thought her parents were divorced.”

“They're getting back together.”

“Oh.” Monty nodded. “What are you going to do about that?”

Ty caught his gaze. “What . . .” He shook his head. “Ain't nothing I
can
do.”

Dickenson stared at him, letting the silence grow before he spoke again. “I been around some time now,” he said and shook his head. “Can't come up with one time out of a thousand that's been true.”

Off by the barn a cow bellowed. Night settled in a little snugger.

“You saying I should do something?” Ty asked.

Monty shrugged. “What do you
want
to do?”

“I wanna—” Ty tightened his fist on the shovel handle. A dozen wild scenarios raced through his head like skittish broncs. “I don't want her to get hurt,” he said finally.

The smallest hint of a smile toyed with the old cattleman's lips. “Then I suggest you open the chute gate and choose your best pickup horse.”

Ty stood in silence for a second, but the reference escaped him. “I don't know what that means.”

“Every cowgirl gets throwed eventually, son,” he said and turned away. “Smartest thing you can do is make sure her landing ain't too hard.”

CHAPTER 27

C
asie tied a bow of baling twine around the spindle of the antique spinning wheel hidden in her bedroom. She'd traded three full fleeces of unprocessed wool for it. Fleeces in the grease, was the colloquial term. Four days ago she'd been excited about handing out Christmas gifts. But now everything was turned upside down. Emily seemed atypically distant, Sophie would be leaving within the week, and Colt was barely speaking to her after his surprise attack proposal and her subsequent refusal.

She ran her fingers over the picture frame that housed the photo of Freedom. Autumn colors blazed in the background as the mare galloped across the pasture. Her nostrils were flared. Her mane, thick as brambles, blew in the wind. It was a pretty picture, but it was the unfettered joy in the chestnut's eyes that had convinced Casie to give it to Sophie. Emily had taken the shot. Colt had crafted the frame from weathered barn wood. Casie herself had had almost nothing to do with it. Nevertheless she had looked forward to seeing the girl's reaction.

Now, she was less certain. After seeing the Coach bag and matching luggage Monica had purchased for her daughter, the picture seemed cheesy beyond compare. Besides, Sophie would be gone by Christmas. Still, what else was she going to do with it? Sighing, she picked up the homey gift and traipsed down the hall toward the smallest of the house's three bedrooms. The door was shut. She knocked once. “Hey, Soph, can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence, then soft footsteps before the handle turned. The girl's expression was sober, her eyes bright. Beyond her, a trio of boxes sat filled and sealed. Her newly purchased suitcases sat beside them.

“So you're ready to go, huh?” Casie said and fought to keep her voice level despite the pang of disappointment that unexpectedly jolted her heart. She and Soph had had their share of skirmishes, but maybe those very battles were part and parcel of the reason it hurt to see her bolt away like a mustang from captivity. Maybe, despite the energy Casie expended to avoid confrontations, heated disputes could actually bring people closer together. It was a disturbing possibility. The girl shrugged. “Thought I'd just get it done now.”

Casie nodded, then jerked herself back to her reason for coming. “Well, it's not much for all your hard work, but I wanted to give you this,” she said and handed over the photograph.

Sophie took it in silence and blinked at it.

Casie cleared her throat and shuffled her feet a little. She had no idea why she couldn't grow up. Why she couldn't interact with others with a modicum of maturity. She didn't need to have the sleek panache of Monica Day-Bellaire. But maybe she could be as socially adept as, say . . . your average kitchen chair. “The frame's made from old barn wood.”

Sophie nodded, lips pursed.

“Emily took the picture.”

Still the girl said nothing.

“She has a way with . . .” Casie shook her head. “Things. Anyway . . . I just wanted you to have it.”

“Thanks,” Sophie said and momentarily lifted hooded eyes to Casie. “Well . . . I'd better get back to my packing.”

“Sure,” Casie said and took a cautious step back, though she wanted nothing more than to shoot down the stairs and outside like a loosed missile. “Hey, I'm really happy for you, Soph.”

Sophie nodded, then glanced to the right as Lumpkin came charging up the stairs, ears bouncing. “Did you know it has an indoor arena?”

Casie shook her head, losing track of the conversation as she lifted the lamb into her arms.

“Our new farm. It's got an indoor.”

“Oh.” Casie forced a smile. “That's great.”

“Just a small one. But I won't have to freeze my fingers anymore while bridling up.”

“It sounds fantastic.”

“Yeah.” Sophie tilted her chin up a little in a mannerism reminiscent of former days. “Nothing but the best for Philip and Monica Jaegar Day-Bellaire.”

Casie canceled launch mode and drew a careful breath. “They love you very much,” she said.

Sophie shrugged casually as if to say it didn't matter either way, and Casie, unable to be an extrovert a moment longer, turned briskly away.

“You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?” The girl's words were quick and terse, drawing Casie back around to face her.

“With what?”

“This . . .” She gave a sparse wave. “My parents acting so . . .” She searched for the right word, lips twisting a little. “Nice,” she said.

Casie laughed. “They just want to be a family again, Soph. Enjoy it.”

There was a long, breathless pause, then, “Sure,” she said and shut the door.

 

Not much later, supper was served. Casie had stolen a handful of minutes to groom Chesapeake and ease a saddle onto his back. With Sophie leaving, training horses would be entirely up to her again.

Lincoln Alexander was typically silent throughout the meal. Ty was the same. Even Max Barrenger seemed a little subdued as he complimented Emily's latest feast.

“Here here,” Philip said and raised his glass. It was three-quarters filled with a dark merlot he had ordered from their soon-to-be ranch in California. “To Emily Kane, the best pastry chef this side of the Mississippi.”

“The best chef anywhere,” Max corrected, attention sharp on the object of their conversation. Casie couldn't help but notice that Colt's brows lowered as he watched Max watch the girl.

“They
are
lovely biscuits,” Monica said. “But there's a little place just a few blocks from my flat in Manhattan that makes the best beignets I've ever tasted.”

“Beignets?” Casie questioned. She wanted nothing more than to fall facedown onto her mattress and stay there for a week, but Em was no longer leading the extroverts' ball and someone had to dance the dance.

“It's a French word,” Monica explained as she swirled her merlot. “It means ‘fluffy.' They are
très bon
. But filled with about a thousand fat grams per donut. I have to watch how many I eat.”

“Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore,” Philip said, and staring into her eyes, took her hand in his.

She smiled up at him. “Why's that?”

“Well . . .” He turned slightly to wink at his daughter. “You'll be so busy mucking stalls and stacking hay that those evil little fat grams won't have a chance to settle in. Isn't that right, Soph?”

His daughter didn't respond. Her knuckles looked white against the red plaid tablecloth.

Monica laughed. “As you may have guessed, Philip Thomas Jaegar, I'm not really the stall-mucking type.”

“You never know,” her husband quipped and grinned as he leaned toward her slightly. “I didn't think you'd be the type to sell that flat in Manhattan, either.”

Monica's threaded brows rose as she reared back a scant inch. “What makes you think I am?”

“Well . . .” He laughed again, jolly as an elf. This wasn't his first glass of merlot. “We're buying a farm in Napa County, California.”

“Which will make a nice little getaway from the city.”

The smile dropped slowly from Jaegar's chiseled face. “I thought you wanted me to sell my condo.”

Monica laughed and glanced conspiratorially at the others around the table. “
Everyone
wants you to sell that condo, Philip. It's so . . .”

His back stiffened a little. “What?” he asked.

There were four seconds of dead silence before Casie managed to jolt to her feet. “Anyone ready for dessert?”

“Pedantic,” Monica said and ignored her completely.

“Not for me, thank you,” Philip said but never turned from his ex-wife. “You know we'll need to sell both properties in order to make that down payment.”

She raised her chin a notch. “What happened to your savings?”

“There's raspberry crisp,” Casie said. “It smells terrific.”

“My savings!” Philip said and choked a short laugh. “You must be kidding. I've been paying you enough alimony to—”

“Folks!” Colt said, shifting his gaze from Jaegar to Day-Bellaire. “Maybe this isn't the time or place for this discussion.”

“That alimony—” Monica began, but Colt pushed himself noisily to his feet.

“You might want to take this outside,” he suggested.

Philip glanced around as if surprised to find they weren't entirely alone. “You're right. Of course,” he said. “Darling . . .” The word sounded a little strained. “Let's let these people eat, shall we? It's a beautiful night for a walk.”

She stared at him a second, then stood and turned toward the entryway. In a moment the door had closed behind them.

“Marriage,” Max said, grinning. “It's not for the faint of heart.”

Colt glanced at Casie, eyes troubled. “How 'bout that dessert, Em?” he said.

She jerked herself from her trance and handed him a plate.

“No!” The single word sounded perfectly clear from the porch.

Colt shifted his gaze to Sophie. She looked taut as a bowstring, but he forced himself to sit back down. Ty's expression was no less strained. “You did a real nice job on that sleigh,” Colt said, but Tyler's attention was riveted on the girl who sat across the table from him. Colt cleared his throat. “How long did that take you?”

The boy jerked his attention to his left. His expression was pained, his face pale, but he forced himself to speak. “Your dad done most of the work.”

“That's not exactly the story I heard. He said you hardly slept for—”

“I knew it!” Monica's voice was little more than a growl. “You've always wanted to bring me down to your level.”

“My level? My
level?
” Philip laughed. “You still believe you're on some impregnable pedestal that—”

“This is exactly why I'm keeping my flat,” Monica said.

“In which case, there will be no farm!”

“That's fine with me. I was just trying to make my daughter happy, but you're the same controlling bastard you've always been.”

“And you're the same snotty—”

Colt and Sophie jolted to their feet simultaneously. He stormed toward the door just as she swiveled toward the stairs.

“Soph,” Ty said and followed her from the room.

“Hey.” Colt's voice was quiet but clear from the porch. “Maybe you two want to go for a drive or something.”

“I'm not getting into a car with—” Monica began, but her words were drowned by Sophie's as Colt shut the door behind him.

“You're no better than me!” The girl's tone was low and strident.

Ty's voice was soft. “I know that.”

“You're so smug. You think just because you're Casie's darling, you can change, but you can't. You'll always be white trash!” she said and sped noisily up the stairs.

In the absolute silence that followed, Casie was certain she could hear Ty's heart crack, but in a moment an engine roared to life. It was followed by another. Colt stepped back into the house just as Ty strode past him, eyes cast toward the floor as he hurried outside.

“What happened?” Colt asked.

Casie shook her head.

Max grinned. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

 

Later that night, when the kitchen was all but empty, Max was still grinning. “Daytime TV's got nothing on this place, huh?”

Emily scowled as she cut out Christmas cookies on the liberally floured counter. “Do relationships ever work?”

“Relationships?” He leaned to the side to see her face better. “Sure. Lots of them.”

She glanced up. “Are your parents together?”

“Mine? Yeah. Just not with each other.” He laughed. “Come on, Em, why don't you take a break with that?” he said, and took her hands. They were dusted with flour. “Hey, tell you what . . . how 'bout you take tomorrow off?”

She shook her head. “It's Christmas Eve tomorrow. I'm going to have to glaze the ham and make fresh rolls and—”

“Wouldn't it be a lot easier if I just treated everyone to a meal in town?”

“What town?”

He laughed. “I don't know. There must be one around here somewhere.”

“Not one with a restaurant that's open on Christmas Eve.”

“No kidding?” He reared back a little, looking shocked.

“None whatsoever. Everyone wants to be with their family this time of year. Well . . . you know . . .” She felt odd tonight. So jittery and out of sorts that she considered waking Bliss just to feel her heart beat. “Everyone who
has
a family.”

He smiled and caressed her knuckles.

“We're going to have such fun together, Em. We'll zip line in Costa Rica and golf at Pebble Beach. We'll go parasailing off Antigua and . . .”

“Perfect my recipes.”

“What are you talking about? Your recipes are already perfect.”

“No, they're not. If I'm going to get my products into supermarkets, I'm going to have to keep experimenting and develop a marketing plan and have an industrial kitchen that—”

He laughed. “You are such a cute little thing.”

“I'm not—”

“I'll get you a state-of-the-art kitchen, we'll hire a team to put together a marketing plan, and as for experimenting . . .” He squeezed her hands and moved closer, expression suggestive. “I'm all for that. I don't even mind if we do some of it in the kitchen.”

She stepped back a pace. “What about Bliss?”