Page 3 of Snow Kisses

Melly looked thoughtful. “He brightened like a copper penny,” she said with a faint smile. “Especially when I mentioned that you might be here for a couple of weeks or more. It struck me at the time, because he’s been just the very devil to get along with lately.”

Abby pursed her lips thoughtfully. “He probably has the idea that I’ve lost my job and came back in disgrace. Is that it?”

“Shame on you,” her sister replied. “He’d never gloat over something like that.”

“That’s what you think. He’s always hated the idea of my modeling.”

Melly’s thin brows rose. “Well, no matter what his opinion of your career, he was glad to hear you’d be around for a while. In fact, he was in such a good mood, all the men got nervous. Surely Hank told you that Hob had just quit? Too bad he didn’t wait an extra day. Cade’s bucking for sainthood since I announced your arrival.”

If only it were true, Abby thought wistfully. But she knew better, even if Melly didn’t. She was almost certain that Cade avoided her on purpose. Maybe it was just her sister’s way of smoothing things over, to prevent a wild argument between Cade and Abby. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d played peacemaker.

She glanced sharply into her sister’s green eyes. “Melly, you didn’t tell Cade the truth?” she asked anxiously.

Melly looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly,” she confided. “I just said there was a man…that you’d had a bad experience.”

Abby sighed. “Well, that’s true enough. At least I’ll be down at the homestead with you. He shouldn’t even get suspicious about why I’m here. God knows, it’s always been an uphill fight to keep peace when Cade and I are in the same room together, hasn’t it?”

Melly shifted suddenly and Abby stared at her curiously.

“I’m afraid you won’t be staying at the homestead,” Melly said apologetically. “You see, my house is being painted. Cade’s having the old place renovated as a wedding present.”

Abby felt a wave of pure tension stretch her slender body. “We’ll be staying…here?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when I asked to come?” Abby burst out.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t come,” Melly replied.

“Will Cade be away?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? In the spring, with roundup barely a month away?”

“Then I’ll go somewhere else!” Abby burst out.

“No.” Melly held her fast. “Abby, the longer you run away the harder it’s going to be for you. Here, on the ranch, you can adjust again. You’re going to have to adjust—or bury yourself. You do realize that? You can’t possibly go on like this. Look at you!” she exclaimed, indicating the shapeless dress. “You don’t even look like a model, Abby, you look like a housekeeper!”

“And that’s a fine thing to say about me,” came a deep but feminine voice from the doorway.

Both girls turned at once. Calla Livingston had her hands on her ample hips, and she was wearing a scowl sour enough to curdle milk. She was somewhere near sixty, but she could still outrun most of the cowboys, and few of them crossed her. She took her irritation out on the food, which was a shame because she was the best cook in the territory.

“And what do I look like, pray tell—the barn?” Calla continued, ruffled.

Melly bit her lip to keep from smiling. Dressed in a homemade shift of pink and green, her straggly gray hair pulled into a half bun, her garter-supported hose hanging precariously just above her knees, Calla was nobody’s idea of haute couture. But only an idiot would have told her that, and Melly had good sense.

“You look just fine, Calla,” Melly soothed. “I meant—” she searched for the right words “—that this isn’t Abby’s usual look.”

Calla burst out laughing, her merry eyes going from one girl to the other. “Never could tell when I was serious and when I wasn’t, could you, darlin’?” she asked Melly. “I was only teasing. Come here, Abby, and give us a hug. It’s been months since I’ve seen you, remember!”

Abby ran into her widespread arms and breathed in the scent of flour and vanilla that always clung to Calla.

“Stay home this time, you hear?” Calla chided, brushing away a tear as she let go of the young woman. “Tearing off and coming back with city ways—this is the best you’ve looked to me since you were eighteen and hell-bent on modeling!”

“But, Calla…” Melly interrupted.

“Never you mind.” Calla threw her a sharp glance. “Call her dowdy again, and it’ll be no berry cobbler for you tonight!”

Melly opened her mouth and quickly closed it again with a wicked grin. “I think she looks…mature,” Melly agreed. “Very…unique. Unusual. Rustically charming.”

---