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Years ago they’d had a falling-out over the ranch. Stacy still regretted it. But Dana had forgiven her, and now they were closer than ever.
“Hello?”
She quickly turned off the television as Burt Olsen, the local mailman, stuck his head in the front door of the main ranch house, where Stacy was curled up watching movies.
“Got a package for Dana,” he said. “Need a signature.”
Stacy waved him on into the house, smiling as he stomped snow off his boots on the porch before entering. Burt was always so polite. Dana was convinced that Burt had a crush on Stacy, but he was just too shy to ask her out. She was glad Dana wasn’t here to tease her about him.
“How’s your day going?” Burt asked, then quickly lowered his voice. “The kids asleep?”
She laughed and shook her head. “That would be some trick, to get them all to take naps at their ages. No, their grandpa took them sledding. I’m just holding down the fort until my sister gets back.”
“Saw your car out front,” Burt said. “Figured you might be sitting the kids. What’d ya think of that snow last night? Really came down. I’ve already been stuck a couple of times today. Glad I have chains on my rig.”
She nodded as she signed for the package. “Can I fill up your thermos with coffee? I have a pot going.”
“That would be right nice of you,” Burt said, blushing a little. He was a big man with a round red face and brown eyes that disappeared in his face when he laughed. He wasn’t handsome by anyone’s standards, but there was a warmth and a sincerity about him.
“He will make some woman a fine husband,” Dana had said more than once. “A smart woman would snatch him up.”
Stacy had never been smart when it came to men, and her sister knew it. But she liked Burt. If she had been looking for a husband... But she wasn’t.
When he returned from his truck with the thermos, she took it into the big farmhouse kitchen and proceeded to fill it with hot strong coffee. Burt had followed her only as far as the kitchen doorway.
“Having electrical problems?” Burt asked.
She turned to frown. “No, why?”
“I saw some feller up a pole not far from the house.”
Stacy shrugged. “Here, I made sugar cookies. I’ll put a couple of them in a bag for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to...”
“Dana would insist if she was here,” Stacy said.
“Well, thank you.” He took the thermos and the plastic bag. “Shaped like Christmas trees,” he said, holding up the bag to see the cookies. “You did a real nice job on them.”
She felt her cheeks heat. Burt was so appreciative of even the smallest kind gesture a person did for him. “Thank you.”
“Well, I’ll be getting along, then.” He nodded, not quite looking at her. “Might want to dig out some candles in case that lineman turns off your power. You have a nice day now.”
“I’m going to try.” She watched him drive away, wondering when Burt was going to get around to asking her out and how she was going to let him down easy.
In the kitchen, she got herself some cookies and milk. Going back to the television, she found another Christmas love story and hoped Burt was wrong about the power man cutting off her television. She didn’t get that much time alone to watch.
But this show didn’t hold her attention. She wondered when Dana would be back with their cousin Dee Anna Justice and what surprises this cousin might bring to the ranch.
* * *
AS BEAU CLIMBED into his SUV and began the drive out of the airport on the newly constructed roads, his cell phone rang. The roads were new because Gallatin Field was now the busiest airport in the state. “Beau Tanner.”
“What is your hourly rate?”
He recognized Leah’s voice and imagined her standing in his living room. “You can’t afford me. Seriously, what is this about?”
“I lied to you. Charlie and I...we’re in trouble.”
Beau wasn’t surprised. “So, there isn’t an important package?”
“There is, kind of. I hate involving you in this.”
“I can’t wait to hear what this is exactly, but can we talk about it when I get home?”
“Yes. But I insist on hiring you. I have money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That isn’t it. I have something right now that is going to take all of my attention.”
He got off the call, cursing under his breath. If this was about marital problems between her and Charlie...
He really couldn’t deal with this right now. Ahead he could see Dana Cardwell’s black Suburban heading toward Big Sky. Beau followed, worried about Leah and Charlie, even more worried about DJ Justice.
What kind of trouble was DJ in? Her father thought it might have something to do with her grandmother? That her grandmother had found her? He cursed Walter. Who knew how many skeletons the man had in his closet?
But what did that have to do with his daughter?
If Beau had to lay money down on it, he would have bet there was a man in DJ Justice’s story. A man with a jealous wife or girlfriend? Or had DJ chosen a life of crime like her father? At least Beau’s father had reformed somewhat after that night here in the canyon when Beau had made the deal with Walter Justice.
Since becoming a private investigator, he’d thought he’d heard every story there was. Where it got dangerous was when the spouse or lover would do anything to cover up an affair—or even a score. Usually money was involved. And passion.
So what was DJ’s story?
* * *
MARIETTA PISANI STOOD at her mirror, considering the almost eighty-year-old woman she saw reflected there. Merda! She looked as cranky as she felt, which almost made her smile. When had she gotten so old? She didn’t feel all that different than she had in her twenties, except now her long, beautiful, raven-black hair was gray. Her once-smooth porcelain skin was wrinkled.
She knew what had aged her more than the years—her only child, Carlotta. That girl had seemed determined to drive her crazy. It had been one thing after another from an early age. She shook her head, remembering the hell Carlotta had put her through, and then softened her thoughts as she was reminded that her beautiful, foolish daughter was in her grave.
Not that she hadn’t left a storm in her wake. And now Marietta had to clean it up.
“Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Pisani?” asked a deep, elderly voice behind her.
She glanced past her reflection in the mirror to Ester, who’d been with her for almost fifty years. Ester had grayed since she’d begun working here as a teen. Sometimes Marietta mixed her up with her mother, Inez, who’d been her first housekeeper right after her marriage.
“No, Ester, I don’t need anything.”
“What about you, Mr. Douglas?” Ester asked Marietta’s solicitor.
Roger shook his head. “I’ll be leaving shortly.”
“You can turn in,” Marietta told the housekeeper.
“Just ring.” The sixty-seven-year-old woman turned to leave. “Sleep well.” She’d said the same thing every night for the past fifty years.
As Ester closed the door behind her, Marietta focused again on her own reflection. Nothing had changed except now her brows were knit into a deep frown. Ester hadn’t been herself lately.
The thought caused Marietta a moment of alarm. Was the woman sick? Marietta was too old to train another housekeeper. Not that Ester kept house anymore. A housecleaning crew came in once a week, and she employed a full-time cook, as well. Ester’s only job now was to see to her mistress.
Of course, Ester didn’t see it that way. She resented the housekeeping crew and the cook and often sent the cook home early so she could take over the kitchen. She would then make Marietta’s favorite meals, just as her mother had done.
The thought that Ester might leave her for any reason was more than she could stand. Ester was the only person in the world Marietta trusted—other than her granddaughter Bianca. She tried to put her worries aside, assuring herself that she’d be dead before Ester went anywhere.
Still, it nagged at her. Not that Ester had said anything. It was more of a...feeling that something was wrong. Unfortunately she knew nothing about the woman’s personal life—or if she even had one. Ester had married some worthless man years ago, but she’d had the good sense to get rid of him early on. Since then, as far as Marietta knew, there was no one else in her life. Ester had doted on her and Carlotta and thought that the sun rose and set with Bianca.
When Carlotta had died a few months ago, Ester had taken it harder than Marietta. The housekeeper had loved that child as if she were her own. She’d helped raise her and was the first to make excuses when Carlotta got into trouble, which was often.
But the one Ester loved even more than life itself was Bianca.
It was her thirty-four-year-old granddaughter Marietta worried about now because of Carlotta’s deathbed confession.
She clenched her gnarled hands into fists at the memory. The stupid, stupid girl. The secret she’d kept from them all could destroy the legacy Marietta had preserved for so many years—not to mention what it could do to the family fortune.
That was why the mess her daughter had left behind had to be cleaned up. For the family’s sake. For Bianca’s sake and the generations to come.
“I should go,” Roger said.
She’d forgotten he was even still in the room. A slight man with an unmemorable face, he practically disappeared into the wallpaper. “You’re sure you can handle this properly?” she asked as she looked past her own image to his.
He sighed. “Yes.”
“I don’t want Bianca ever to know. If that means paying this woman to keep quiet—”
“I told you I would take care of it. But it is going to cost you. Your daughter left us little choice unless you want to see your family’s reputation destroyed by a complete stranger.”
A complete stranger. That was what Dee Anna Justice was to her. Marietta had never laid eyes on this...granddaughter, hadn’t even known she existed until her daughter’s deathbed confession. “Just see that it’s done and spare me the sordid details.”
“Don’t I always?” As he started to leave, she heard a rustling sound and looked up in time to see Ester skittering away.
* * *
DANA WAS TELLING her about the “canyon,” as the locals called the Gallatin Canyon. It ran from just south of Gallatin Gateway almost to West Yellowstone, some fifty miles of twisting road that cut through the mountains. Sheer rock cliffs overlooked the highway and the Gallatin River.
The drive was breathtaking, especially for DJ, who’d never been in the mountains before—let alone in winter. The winding highway followed the river, a blue-ribbon trout stream, up over the Continental Divide.
“There used to be just a few places in the canyon, mostly ranches or dude ranches, a few summer cabins, but that was before Big Sky,” Dana was saying.
DJ could see that luxury houses had sprouted up along the highway as they got closer to the ski resort and community that had grown around it.
“Our ranch was one of the first,” her cousin said with obvious pride. “It is home. The only one I’ve known. And I have no intention of ever leaving it.”
DJ couldn’t imagine what it must have been like living her whole life in one place.
Dana slowed and turned not far past the sign for Big Sky Resort. Across the river and a half mile back up a wide valley, the Cardwell Ranch house sat against a backdrop of granite cliffs, towering snow-filled pines and bare-limbed aspens. The house was a big, two-story rambling affair with a wide front porch and a brick red metal roof. Behind it stood a huge new barn and some older outbuildings and corrals.
“Hud, my husband, keeps saying we need to build a bigger house, since we have four children now. But...well...”
“It’s wonderful,” DJ said and tried to imagine herself growing up here.
“You’ll be staying in one of our guest cabins,” her cousin said and pointed to some log buildings up on the side of the mountain. “I think you’ll be comfortable there, and you’ll have your privacy.”
DJ was overwhelmed by all of it, so much so that she couldn’t speak. As Dana parked, a dark-haired woman came out on the porch to greet them.
“Stacy,” Dana called. “Come meet our cousin.”
Chapter Six (#u6b542621-f503-5a26-8cb4-879ea7d5f288)
DJ thought Stacy looked like an older version of her sister. She’d been prettier at one time, but her face told of a harder life than Dana had lived. Seeing how much she resembled both of her cousins gave DJ a strange feeling. For once, her father had told the truth. These people were her family.
Dana introduced them and then asked her sister, “How were the kids?”
“Dad came by and took them sledding,” Stacy said. “He called just before you drove up to say he’s decided to take them to Texas Boys Barbecue, since they say they’re too starved to wait for supper. The café is owned by our cousins from Texas,” she said to DJ. Turning back to her sister, she said, “I’m working this afternoon at the sewing shop, so I’d better get going, since I need to pick up a few things before then.”
“Go, and thanks.”
Stacy looked to DJ, who’d been taking in the ranch in a kind of awe. “It was great to meet you. I’ll see you later?”
“You’ll see her. DJ’s staying for a while,” Dana declared and climbed the porch steps to open the door and usher DJ in.
She stepped into the house and stopped. The decor was very Western, from the huge rock fireplace to the antler lamps and the Native American rugs on the hardwood floors. Even the Christmas decorations looked as if they’d been in the family for years.
There was also a feeling of déjà vu as if she’d been here before. Crazy, she thought, hurriedly wiping at her eyes.
“It’s so...beautiful,” DJ said, her voice breaking.
Dana laughed. “My Christmas tree? I know it’s hard to put into words,” she said, considering the misshaped evergreen in the corner, decorated with ornaments obviously made by children. “But I’ve always been a sucker for trees that would never have gotten to be Christmas trees if it wasn’t for me.”
DJ managed to laugh around the lump in her throat. “I meant your house,” she said, smiling at the sight of the ungainly tree, “but your Christmas tree is...lovely. An orphan tree that you brought home. It’s charming.”
Her cousin smiled at her. “Let’s have a late lunch, since I know you couldn’t have gotten much on the plane, and we can visit.”
She followed Dana into the large, cheery kitchen, wondering if she hadn’t been here before. It felt strangely...familiar. Had her father brought her here at some point? Why else was she feeling so emotional about this large, rambling old house?
“I can’t tell you how surprised I was when I found some letters from your father and realized that my mother had a brother I’d never known existed,” Dana said as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a large bowl. “I hope you like shrimp macaroni salad.” DJ nodded and Dana continued. “It wasn’t like my mother, Mary Justice, to keep a secret like that. Then to find out that he hadn’t actually died...” Her cousin put the bowl on the table and got out plates, forks and what looked like homemade rolls. “Coffee, tea, milk?”
“Milk.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had milk, but it sounded so good, and it felt right in this kitchen. Everywhere she looked she saw family history in this house. One wall was covered with photos of the children, most atop horses.
“Sit, please.” Dana waved her into one of the mismatched multicolored wooden chairs in front of the long, scarred table.
