True Love Ranch. Elizabeth Harbison
past her toward the door. His arm brushed against her shoulder and left a burning spot on her skin.
“It’s not my home.” Although it was the closest thing she’d ever had.
“At the moment, it’s no one’s home, and I don’t want to stand here all day while you ring the bell.” He stepped around her and pushed the door open. “The Coxes are too deaf to hear it these days anyway.”
“The Coxes?” She remembered Anthea, the kind woman who worked as the housekeeper, and her husband, Hank, who was the family driver. “Are they still here?”
“For the time being.” He hesitated, then added gently, “It’ll be a short reunion. They’re getting ready to leave for Florida.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure. This week sometime.”
It was Darcy’s second encounter today with the living past, and the second time she felt her fond memories meant more than the truth did. “Is anyone else still here? Anyone I might know?”
Joe was quick to shake his head. “There’s no one here at all beyond some hired day help. The guys you knew are all long gone. The last of them was Skip Morton and he left—” he paused to think “—well, it must be nearly a year now.”
“Oh, no.” Darcy was filled with apprehension. She was walking into a situation that was even more unfamiliar than she’d anticipated.
“Things really changed over the past few years, Darce, and not for the best.”
“Oh.” Darcy didn’t know what else to say. She’d had such happy times here as a child. When she went in this door, what changed vision of the past would confront her? She hesitated, almost afraid to disturb her memories.
“Let’s go.” Joe guided her through the front door into the wooden entryway. “Like I said, it’s a little different since you were here last. Toward the end, your grandfather was too ill to do much with the place and too poor to hire someone else to do it for him.”
“But you said he had hired help.”
Joe shook his head. “Just a few men. All together we have our hands full just dealing with the livestock.”
A door at the end of the hall creaked open before Darcy could reply.
“Joe? Is that you?” An elderly man bustled down the hall toward them. “How are you, son? Didn’t recognize you from back there without my glasses on. How’s Ricky?”
Darcy felt Joe glance at her quickly. Who was Ricky? she wondered. Another ranch hand? Was someone else requested at the reading of Grandfather’s will?
“Just getting over a cold, but he’s all right,” Joe said. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the foyer table. His hair was dark and gleaming. “How are you and the missus?”
“Fine, fine.” Hank turned his gaze to Darcy. “My stars, this isn’t Little Darcy, is it?”
“Not so little anymore.” She smiled, but tears burned behind her eyes. Hank had aged thirty years in the last ten, but he was still wonderfully familiar. He made the place feel like home in a way that no one else could. “I’m awfully glad to see you, Hank.” Impulsively she went to him and gave the frail body a hug. Hank returned the hug with the warm kindness she remembered.
“Wait ’til Anthea sees you.” He hesitated and appeared to think that over before saying, “She’ll be so sorry it’s just to say good-bye.”
“I can’t wait to see her,” Darcy said, trepidation weakening her words.
“You waited ten years,” Joe said quietly.
Darcy bristled.
“Come right this way,” Hank Cox said, walking through a heavy oak doorway to the left.
Neither Darcy nor Joe moved. They stood facing each other like boxers in opposite corners of the ring.
“What did you mean, ‘you waited ten years’?” she demanded.
“Just that your grandfather could have used your help over the past few years, and if you weren’t so bullheaded—”
“Me bullheaded? What about him?”
“Both of you. Not that it’s any of my business,” he added as an afterthought.
“It certainly isn’t.” She was sorely tempted to spit the truth right into Joe Tyler’s condescending face, but it was none of his business. Let him think the worst of her—what did she care?
He stood for a moment with his eyes fixed on her, and his enviably sculpted mouth quirked into the half smile she’d noticed earlier. “Sweetheart, you’re way too uptight.”
“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’”
“See?”
She felt her face flush. “You have no right to speak to me that way.”
“You didn’t used to feel that way.”
Exactly three hard, solid heartbeats passed before she managed to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His casual approach to what had meant so much to her was humiliating.
He stopped and turned back to her. Suddenly his hair looked darker—if that was possible—and his eyes looked like blue stormclouds. And his mouth—that sensually curved mouth; it was really starting to get on Darcy’s nerves—was quirked, openly mocking. “You didn’t used to mind one bit when I called you my sweetheart. Or have you forgotten?”
“There’s nothing to forget,” she answered, refusing to be bowled over by him. She raised her chin.
He gave a quick jerk of his head and sucked air in through his teeth. “Are you challenging me, Darcy?”
“To do what?” Darcy asked, deliberately misunderstanding.
He didn’t miss a beat “To make a more lasting impression on your memory.”
Part of her wanted to slap that complacent smirk right off his face, but at the moment she felt too weak and tingly to move. Once she had enjoyed this sensation. Now she hated it.
“If you’re ready...” Hank Cox returned to the doorway with a puzzled frown and swept a hand toward the other room. Darcy had almost forgotten he was waiting. She strode into the library and sat down in an embroidered antique chair.
The room was actually in pretty good shape, except for some chips in the built-in bookshelves and a few pieces of old furniture that had seen better days.
A little gray-haired woman who would have been perfectly cast as Mrs. Claus approached with teapot in hand but not a shred of recognition in her eye. “I’m Anthea Cox, and I’m delighted to meet you.”
“It’s me, Anthea. Darcy.” She stared hard into the woman’s eyes, willing her to remember. “Darcy Beckett.”
“Oh, my.” Anthea put a hand to her chest. “Little Darcy—is it really you?”
Darcy felt tears prick her eyes. “Yes. It’s been a long time.”
“It certainly has,” the woman answered, her voice wavering with emotion. “Far too long.” She walked over and reached her hand out to touch Darcy’s cheek. “How lovely you’ve turned out to be. I always knew you would.”
“Th-thanks,” Darcy said awkwardly, giving Anthea a quick embrace. She was keenly aware of Joe, standing nearby, listening.
“How about a nice cup of tea?” Anthea asked. “I remember how you like it, with lots of sugar and cream.”
Her sugar and cream days had been over for a long time, but Darcy saw it was important to Anthea and said, “How kind. I’d love some.” Seeing that Anthea’s hands shook with age, Darcy reached out to help, but the older