Carol Ross - The Rancher's Twins

A nanny like Lydia was out of the question. He’d had enough of coddling beautiful, materialistic, impossible-to-please women to last a lifetime. Besides, he thought as a wave of those bitter feelings washed over him, it didn’t work, anyway.

It had taken weeks for this nanny to get here. How long would it take to get a replacement?

* * *

AFTER SOFIE LEFT, Lydia remained in the kitchen, admiring the granite countertops, brushed stainless-steel appliances and double sinks. Gorgeous hardwood floors gleamed beneath her feet. A large island made up the centerpiece of the room. Copper-bottomed pans hung from a rack suspended above. Five tall padded comfy-looking stools were tucked under the opposite edge.

She stepped closer to the deluxe five-burner stove with double ovens and felt a spark of joy. A little swirl of hope circled inside of her. If Lydia had designed the kitchen herself, she wouldn’t change a thing. Cozy and gourmet utilitarian at the same time. Cooking was an area where she felt supremely confident.

The girls skipped into the kitchen. Genevieve climbed up one of the tall stools at the kitchen’s island.

“It’s dinnertime, why don’t you guys go ahead and sit at the table?”

“We eat here,” Abby said, joining her sister in the next chair.

Hmm. Lydia had fond memories of her and Nana sharing meals at the table. “Every day?”

“When we eat here.”

“What do you mean when you eat here?”

“Since it’s calving time we usually eat in the bunkhouse with the cowboys.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. Was she supposed to cook for a bunch of cowboys, too? Now that she thought about it, the position hadn’t come with much of a job description. That had been the least of her concerns. She and Blackwell needed to hash out a few details.

“Tonight, we’re going to sit at the table, okay? That way we can see each other while we eat, and I can get to know you guys a little bit.”

“Are you going to quit, too?” Abby asked.

“Quit?”

“All our babysitters quit,” she explained.

“No, I most certainly am not.” For once in her life quitting was not an option.

The girls exchanged glances. Leaning their heads together, they whispered excitedly. After a moment, something seemed to be decided because they sat up straight again, grinned at Lydia and shrugged in tandem. “Okay.” They hopped down and darted toward the dining room.

“Hey, you guys want to help me set the table since you’re headed that way?”

They turned back toward her, matching gray-blue eyes wide and curious. For a few long seconds Lydia thought they were going to balk.

Abby’s face erupted with a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll get the spoons,” Genevieve said.

The three of them were seated and waiting when Blackwell strode into the kitchen. Stopping short, he looked from the kitchen to the dining room and back again. Lydia almost laughed at the baffled expression on his face.

Abby saved Lydia from having to explain. “Daddy, look, we’re eating at the table.”

“Isn’t this neat?” Gen added.

“Uh... Yeah, very...” He walked over and stood before the table for a second, hands on hips. “Neat.” He folded his tall length into the vacant chair and Lydia couldn’t help thinking that he moved with the graceful ease of an athlete. Or a cowboy. Not that she’d ever known one of the latter. Dipping his head down, he studied the steaming bowl of stew as if trying to decide what it might contain.

Unlike the new kitchen, the oak dining table looked very old. The girls had shown Lydia the drawer in the matching buffet where place mats were kept. They’d seemed excited when Lydia encouraged them to choose a set.

Fiddling with the silverware laid out on his left side, Blackwell looked at Lydia. “We don’t usually eat here.”

“The girls told me.” Lydia unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. “Dinnertime is a nice way to multitask, though, don’t you think? You get to eat and spend time together as a family. That’s what my grandmother always said.”

Blackwell’s lips formed a grim line while the twins stared at her solemnly.

“You’re lucky to have a grandma,” Abby said.

“Yeah,” Gen agreed. “We have Zoe, but she doesn’t like us to call her Grandma. She doesn’t do any grandma stuff, either. One time she painted our fingernails.”

Abby added, “We love Great-Grandma Dorothy. But she lives far away in Texas and we hardly ever see her.”

“I was very lucky to have a grandma. She died, but I’m glad I had her as long as I did. I’m sorry you guys don’t have a grandma.” Lydia wanted to ask questions about this Zoe person, but Blackwell’s glower stopped her.

She briefly considered calling for a blessing or some other type of predinner ritual, but decided there’d be time to introduce that later. “I think we should eat.”

A few minutes later, Lydia decided Sofie might be a paragon of sweetness, but she was a terrible cook. The stew was bland and the corn bread dry. But the Blackwells ate without complaint and there was no way she was going to voice her opinion on a gesture of such obvious goodwill. Nor was she going to comment on the fact that the twins ate like piglets. Not yet, anyway.

“Did you grow up on a ranch, too?” Genevieve asked, scooping up a large chunk of corn bread and shoving it into her already full mouth.

“Nope. I was raised in Philadelphia. That’s in Pennsylvania. Do you know where that is?”

Gen shook her head.

“I think Pennsylvania is a state,” Abby said, and then licked her fingers.

“It is. I’ll show you on a map.”

“Have you ever seen a calf being born?” Gen asked.

“No, I have not.”

Abby wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of gross.”

“No, it’s not!” Gen argued. “It’s the roof over our head and the boots on our feet, huh, Daddy?”

Blackwell gave her a gentle smile. “Yes, it sure is.”

Abby shot her sister an irritated scowl. “I know, Gen. I just meant if you’ve never seen one before.”

“I’m gonna be a rancher, too.” Gen shoveled up another too-large bite of stew and then wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Like Katie.”

“I want to be a vet like Uncle Ethan.” Abby dipped a finger in her stew and wiped it on the place mat.

Lydia wondered if the girls knew what napkins were for.

They continued chatting through the rest of the meal. Lydia was grateful for the distraction as it saved her from having to talk to her new employer. At least, she noted happily, he wasn’t grouchy with his girls.

Dinner complete, the girls hopped up from the table and scampered out of the dining room. Lydia watched them go and felt a mix of sympathy and affection wash over her. What had happened here? Where was their mother? She could feel Blackwell watching her. Turning her head, she saw puzzlement and...something not quite as grouchy splayed across his face.

Standing, he reached across the table and stacked the bowls into a pile. “I’ll help you clear the table and then I need to go check on some cows.” He carried them into the kitchen.

Lydia gathered the glasses and followed. “Right now? Shouldn’t we go over what you expect of me?”

“It’s calving season.” He pointed this out like a normal person might comment on the obvious state of the weather. He opened the dishwasher, and began loading the bowls inside.

Maybe grumpy, condescending and rude was just his normal state? But how could he have such a nice friend like Sofie? And his daughters might be a bit...unrefined, but they were clearly loved, and they adored their father. Obviously, it was her. What wasn’t obvious was why.

“But...”