A Cowboy at Heart. Roz Fox Denny
sure use big words, mister. Me, Cassie and Hana ain’t no walking dictionaries, you know?”
The kid sounded so serious, Linc laughed. “Okay, I’ll watch the four-bit words.”
Even the older teens broke out in approving grins. For the moment, the strain that had permeated the room evaporated.
Greatly relieved, Miranda picked up Scraps and nudged Jenny into the kitchen.
“Remember to wash your hands before you touch any food,” Parker yelled after them. He didn’t really expect an answer and wasn’t surprised when none came. But he realized that John Montoya had been more right than wrong. He might be in over his head here.
CHAPTER THREE
JUST BEFORE RANDI found the light switch and spilled light into the dark kitchen, Jenny grabbed her. “I’m no cook, are you? What if Lincoln Parker hates what we fix?”
Miranda didn’t answer. “Eew…ew!” Pinching her nose closed, she surveyed a mountain of dirty pots, pans and dishes stacked haphazardly on every surface of an equally dirty stove, sink and counter. “Not only were those houseparents despicable,” she said in a nasal voice, “they were pigs.”
“Yeah, this is disgusting.” Jenny covered her nose and mouth with one hand.
“Jenny, go find Mr. Parker. Tell him we can’t do anything about starting supper until we’ve made a dent in cleaning up this mess. Warn him that some of these pans look so corroded they’ll have to be trashed. Beginning with this one.” She gingerly picked up a saucepan with moldy macaroni and cheese burned to the bottom and sides.
Jenny wasted no time hightailing it out of the smelly room.
Not caring how chilly it had grown outside, Miranda flung open what windows she could budge. She sucked in great gasps of fresh air and wondered how anyone could live this way.
She returned to the sink and began emptying it of unwashed dishes when she heard heavy footsteps coming closer, followed by a partially muffled, “Good Lord!”
Miranda couldn’t help laughing. “My sentiments exactly.”
“This kitchen’s a pigsty. No wonder your dog’s out by the door hiding his head. I thought the bedrooms were bad. They’re the Ritz compared to this.” Linc made a slow circuit of the room. “The boys are bagging rubble from the four bedrooms. God only knows what condition the sleeping bags are in. I unearthed them from a back closet.” Linc felt his burgeoning headache begin to pound in earnest.
“At least we have hot water,” Miranda said brightly. Steam rose from the sink she’d plugged, but her attempt to find dish soap in the cabinet below met with no luck. After searching several more places, she puffed out a breath. “I can’t find any soap. I guess they ran out. Maybe that’s why they stopped washing dishes.”
“A kitchen in a home for kids and no dishwasher? That’s idiotic. Shoot, heck and damn. The minute I set eyes on this unholy mess, I figured it’d be midnight or later before we could reach a point where cooking was possible. But without soap and disinfectant, I doubt it’ll happen at all.”
“So, we’ll, uh, tighten our belts again tonight.” Miranda knew her friends had hoped to have a decent meal. But it wouldn’t be the first night they’d gone to bed hungry. “At least we’ll be sleeping out of the cold. That’s something.”
Known in the world of finance for making quick decisions, Linc made one now. “Look, Randi—that is your name, right?” At her nod, he continued. “I don’t see that we have a choice but to load everyone in my Excursion and go in search of a restaurant. And if there’s a motel with vacancies anywhere in town, two rooms should do us, I think. Tomorrow, before we head back, I’ll buy supplies. I’d appreciate it if you’d make a list of what’s needed for this kitchen to be operational.”
“A shovel?” Her smile brought out a dimple in one cheek.
Once again Linc felt a tug that was almost physical. Frowning, he said, “Put a case of jumbo trash bags and a new set of cookware on the list.” He took a giant backward step toward the door. “While you work on that, I’ll round up the others. I’ll see if the little squirts have nightclothes and clean clothes for morning. If I ever saw kids in need of a good scrubbing, it’s them.”
As he turned to go out, Linc almost fell over the gum-chewing girl who’d purportedly been friends with his sister. Given the circumstances, it was all he could do to mutter a civil, “Excuse me.”
Jenny, who’d overheard part of his and Randi’s discussion, blocked Linc’s exit. “You really intend for us to eat at a restaurant and then go to a motel?”
“I see no other choice. Help put those pans in to soak, please. By tomorrow, steel wool might get some of them clean. Right after heat for the bunkhouses, I’m adding an industrial-size dishwasher to my list.”
Linc made a second attempt to leave the kitchen, but something in the way Randi studied him through narrowed eyes gave him pause. “If you’ve got a problem with my solution, spit it out. From what I saw of the towns I went through on the way here, they’re liable to be the type that roll up their sidewalks at nine o’clock.” To keep from reaching out and giving her arm a reassuring squeeze, he glanced at his watch.
“I think Jenny means money’s an issue,” Randi blurted. “We may be able to pool our pennies and buy burgers. But…well, we can’t begin to cover the cost of a motel.”
Miranda still had her diamond earrings, but since throwing in her lot with Jenny and the boys, she’d found no opportunity to visit a pawnshop. And she dared not risk the kinds of questions that would crop up if any of her new friends got a glimpse of the rocks she had sewn in the lining of her jacket.
“You think I’d expect you kids to pay?” Linc exploded. “Like any of this is your fault.” He swept an arm to encompass the mess. “It’s a damned good thing I’m not within reach of my buddy who negotiated for me on this place. All I can think is that John Montoya never set foot inside the house, or else he’s blind and missing his sense of smell.”
Linc wrung a low laugh from Randi. A husky sound that slid up his spine the way her voice did. Her voice made him think of a piano bar and mellow scotch.
Suddenly Linc found himself wondering why, if she hung out with Felicity’s starstruck groupies, some producer hadn’t seen her potential? True, her skin tone and unusual eye coloring were at odds with hacked-off, too-black hair. But a hairdresser and color could remedy that. It flitted through Linc’s mind that black wasn’t Randi’s natural shade. Probably a phase she was in. A few years back Felicity had dyed her rich brown curls a dull black, too. She’d also worn black lipstick and nail polish. She described the style as “goth” and refused to speak to him for weeks when he’d objected to her appearance.
Though he couldn’t say why, Linc was glad that Randi saw fit to leave her lips and nails bare. Of course, she and Jenny wore too many sets of earrings. And like his sister, Jenny sported tattoos. If Randi had any, they weren’t visible.
He didn’t even want to recall the argument he’d had with Felicity the evening he’d come home from a road trip and discovered her first tattoo. Had his failure to understand her need to look bizarre been the beginning of their estrangement? He erased that thought from his mind and returned to his evaluation of Randi. Why had she landed on his doorstep, instead of on her way to being a new soap or big-screen movie star?
Because she was short? About five-three. Otherwise she had that look producers liked. And she walked as if she owned the world. Linc would bet his bottom dollar that before Randi whatever-the-hell-her-last-name-was ended up living on the street, she’d known a better life, too.
“Are you changing your mind about going to town, Mr. Parker?”
Jerked back from his meandering thoughts, Linc all but snapped at Jenny. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. And, Randi, start writing that damned list, okay?