Ellen James - My Montana Home

Cassie drew in her breath a little, dismayed at the direction of her thoughts.

He regarded her soberly. “Feeling okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said more grumpily than she’d intended. “I just want to get down from this tree.”

The man seemed to be in no hurry. He glanced around, shrugging off his suit jacket. Next he loosened his tie and settled back, resting one arm on a knee. “I haven’t been up here in years,” he said reflectively. “Not since I was a boy. But it’s just the way I remember it. Snug and sturdy…with just enough room for your imagination. Gramps really knew what he was doing when he built it.”

Cassie finally collected her thoughts. “Of course,” she said. “You must be Andrew. Hannah’s grandson.” She paused, then went on more softly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your losing Hannah.”

Elderly Hannah Elizabeth Rogers had been Cassie’s salvation this past year. The divorce had left Cassie cash poor, with virtually no financial assets—yet the most important asset of all, a son she loved with her entire heart. She’d been determined not to ask her wealthy, domineering father for help. From long experience, she knew he would have tried to take over her life. Instead she’d moved to Billings to start a new job, a new existence.

A chance meeting with Hannah had resulted in friendship, as well as an invitation to stay in the guest house on Hannah’s property. Cassie had paid rent…not enough, she’d often protested. But Hannah would hear none of it. She’d said that having Cassie and Zak around made her feel part of a family again. And young Zak, she’d said, reminded her of her grandson Andrew when he’d been a boy. Andrew, the beloved grandson who lived in Texas, and who Hannah visited every six months. Except that, on this past visit three weeks ago, Hannah had suffered a massive heart attack.

Now Cassie watched the expression of sorrow and wistfulness that played across Andrew’s face.

“She was a grand old lady,” he murmured. “Stubborn…funny…generous. Even when it came to her last wishes. On her deathbed, she made me promise no funeral…no mourning. She insisted everyone remember her alive.”

Hannah had been generous, especially with her time and affection. Zak had been lured from his shell by the stories she’d told him about her childhood in Montana during the Great Depression, and he’d even taken a fancy to the chocolate macadamia cookies she baked especially for him. Now that she was gone, he’d withdrawn even further than before.

Cassie stirred. “I must go find my son,” she said.

Andrew gave a slight smile. “Don’t suppose you’d be talking about a quiet little kid with red hair and freckles.”

“That’s the one,” she said ruefully. “Also identified by the rope ladder he absconded with.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Andrew said, “he’s the one who told me where to find you. And don’t worry—I loaned him a golf club and left him practicing his putt on the front lawn. That should keep him busy for a few minutes at least.”

Cassie raised her eyebrows. “You play golf?” she asked. Somehow it didn’t seem quite his sport. She would have pictured something more adventurous, more…physical.

“It’s from Hannah’s old set of clubs,” he explained. “I found them in the attic when I was poking around up there just now. I’d forgotten about the golf phase she went through in her sixties till I saw those trophies and clubs.”

Cassie hadn’t even known about Hannah’s golf phase. Of course, Cassie had never been part of Hannah’s real family, just someone who had enjoyed the old woman’s kindness for a time. With Hannah, things had been so uncomplicated…so different from Cassie’s relationship with her own family. Suddenly she felt very lonely.

“Well,” she said to Andrew. “I expected that you’d fly up from Dallas to settle your grandmother’s affairs. I just didn’t know you’d be here today. Zak and I will clear out of the guest house, of course. I’ve been looking for an apartment, and—”

“Relax,” Andrew said dryly. “I’m not going to throw you out on the street. I barely got into town a few hours ago—I haven’t even met with Hannah’s lawyer yet.” He settled back even more comfortably. “We’ve got plenty of time to sort things out.” A jay alighted on a branch above, wings a smoky blue. It stared at Andrew and Cassie for a moment, then skimmed away again. The breeze brought a faint scent of lilac.

“Kind of nice up here, isn’t it?” Andrew said. His gaze traveled over Cassie. He seemed to be taking his time, and enjoying it. She felt herself flush. Rather pointedly, she glanced at her watch.

“I have to get Zak to the sitter’s. And myself to work—”

“It’s Saturday,” Andrew said. “Nobody should have to work on Saturday.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “From what Hannah said about you, you’re not the type to take off weekends.”

“She always did tell me I worked too hard,” he said reflectively. “So now I’m trying to follow her advice. I’m trying to kick back.”

Hannah had shared quite a few tidbits about her grandson. He had his own law practice in Dallas, he was too involved in his job, he always seemed to date women who insisted they weren’t ready to settle down yet, but frankly he was the one with the settling-down problem….

Cassie made an effort to control her thoughts. His personal life was absolutely no concern of hers. She wondered just how long she was going to be up in this tree with him. Yes, it was undeniably pleasant, and the man was extremely easy on the vision, but still…she had a life waiting below.

“Who knows,” she said, “what damage my son will manage to do with a golf club. Children are alarmingly inventive. I really do have to get down from here.”

“Too bad,” Andrew murmured. “But, if you insist…I’ll go down first. Follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.”

He began descending as expertly as he’d come up. Cassie tried to do exactly what he did—putting a foot here, finding a handhold there. The ground seemed much too far away.

“You’re doing fine,” said Andrew. “We’re almost there.”

“Let me guess,” Cassie muttered as she clung to the trunk of the tree. “Rock climbing’s your sport.” She inched her left foot downward, then her right. Her sneaker found an anchor, and she breathed a little more calmly. Andrew dropped to the ground, gazing up at her.

“Just a little farther,” he said.

She finally relaxed—and that was her mistake. Her sneaker slipped, and suddenly she was flailing wildly.

“Oh no!”

“HUNKS FALLING FROM TREES? Surely, Cassie, even you can think of a better one than that.”

“I’ve already told you, Gwen. I was the one who fell out of the damn tree. I landed sort of, well, sort of on top of him.” She glanced over to where Andrew Morris was seated.

Andrew was getting just a tad impatient. He’d been sitting in this examination room like an afterthought for the better part of fifteen minutes, waiting for the doctor to show—turned out Cassie had rushed him to the office of her son’s pediatrician.

“Right, right…you simply happen to fall into the arms of a ravishing male. Some girls have all the luck.”

“Luck,” said Cassie. “I don’t think falling on a man and practically killing him is good luck.”

Andrew’s finger hurt like hell, and he was starting to feel a little light-headed from overoxygenation—he had always used deep, steady breathing to cope with stress. It wasn’t so much the purple color of his finger that bothered him, nor the fact that it was now swollen beyond its normal size. No, what really bothered Andrew was the way his digit looked longer than any of the others, and it just sort of stuck out there on its own at an odd angle.