to put back in the box. Just like that, the girls went back to their coloring. Her sweet little girls had returned—at least until the next calamity.
But something needed to be said. “Just for a week or so. Maybe less. I haven’t made up my mind about anything after that.” She’d gotten the distinct impression that being a Culpepper wasn’t a positive in this town—nothing she wanted a big dose of, for her or the girls.
“Let’s tackle that subject in a day or two.” Gabriel turned his gaze to the innkeeper again. “After all, we can’t have you run out of town now, can we?”
Mrs. Sackett just huffed, held the doll close to her chest as if the thing was alive and turned back toward the door.
“I don’t know.” Resentment at Cyrus for putting her in this position boiled in her blood—right now she could barely bring herself to care about whatever else the old man was leaving her, if anything.
Avery reached down to touch Dinah’s soft brown curls. “They’re not difficult all the time, you know. They really can be sweet as pie some days.”
Gabe returned an orange marker to the table. “I’m sure that’s true.” He didn’t look like he meant it.
“I’m sure the boys ranch is a fine cause, but I need to think about what’s best for the girls, and for me.” Avery hated how tight and forced her voice sounded.
“No one can fault you for that. Just take some time before you decide.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking down at the little girls with a mixture of bafflement and irritation. “Give us a chance to work all this out.”
She didn’t have it in her to fight. At least not today. “We’ll see.”
It wasn’t a yes, but he looked relieved anyway. “I’ll come by tomorrow around eleven and we can load my truck with whatever doesn’t fit in your car. I’ll call Marlene right now. I’m sure it’ll set her into a storm of happy preparations. Is it okay if I give her your phone number if she has any questions?”
“Sure.” The prospect of getting out of the boardinghouse lifted a weight off Avery’s shoulders she hadn’t even realized was pressing down so hard. “Thank you,” she said, fighting the awkward and indebted feeling that settled cold and hard against her rigid spine. “Really. It’s a very kind offer.”
Gabriel shrugged. “I’ve got the space, and nothing gets solved if you leave. It works for everybody.” He seemed more at peace with the idea than he had been even two minutes ago.
That peace wasn’t likely to last. “We’ll see if you say that after twenty-four hours of these two, cowboy,” Avery teased. He couldn’t really know what he was getting himself into, could he?
“I’ve handled far rougher bulls at the ranch. How hard can a pair of little girls be?”
Bless his heart, Avery thought, he’s about to find out.
Following a mountain of exasperating Lone Star Cowboy League business, Gabe came home that Monday afternoon to find Marlene and Jethro Frank cleaning a batch of old toys. Even the squeal of joy Marlene had given over the phone hadn’t prepared him for just how much the older couple was going to enjoy this spontaneous setup. As he cut the ignition on his truck, Gabe couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking at his last quiet evening on the ranch for a while.
“Evening, Gabriel,” Jethro called from over a bucket of sudsy water. “Just getting things ready.”
Gabe looked to his left to see child-sized pastel sheets hanging on the line. “You had all this?”
“A few calls around church was all it took,” Marlene said with a smile. She chuckled as she handed a bright green doll carriage to Jethro. “Little girls! And twins at that!”
Jethro shot Gabe just a hint of a “you sure you know what you’re doing?” glance, one gray eyebrow raised as he plunged a sponge into the soapy water.
Gabe had no idea what he was doing. He’d been asking himself all afternoon what on earth had made him offer to house Avery and the twins. He didn’t especially like children—but he liked failing a whole town even less.
It wasn’t as if life hadn’t complicated itself tenfold in the past few months. Cyrus’s will was forcing him to hunt down Theodore Linley, his maternal grandfather—someone Gabe never wanted to see again. Worse yet, Linley clearly didn’t want to be found. No one else in Haven had been able to locate him, and even the private investigators hired to find the man had failed.
Cyrus Culpepper’s set of demands was beginning to look more impossible with each passing day.
Desperation, he decided. That’s what made him do it. The desperation he felt to save the boys ranch from losing the larger facilities it so dearly needed.
If necessity was the mother of invention, it seemed desperation was the father of foolishness.
“Supper’s in the slow cooker,” Marlene called as Gabe pulled his briefcase from the truck. His stomach growled at the mention of supper—Gabe hadn’t had time to eat lunch today. He’d spent the time after seeing Avery in an endless stream of appointments for his role as president of the Lone Star Cowboy League’s Waco chapter. The civic organization did important work supporting area ranchers, but lately it seemed the league devoured all his time. Gabe was a highly organized and precise man, and the length of his list of undone tasks was making him nuts. “We’ll eat in thirty minutes,” Marlene advised. “We’ve got enough for Harley, if you want to fetch him over.”
Harley Jones was an old ranch hand who had been here since Gabe’s stepfather owned the ranch. Gabe could never bear to put him off the property, even though the man had long outlived his usefulness.
Much as he liked Harley, Gabe was too tired and hungry for extra faces around the table tonight. In fact, if he thought Marlene would let him get away with it, he’d prefer to spend the evening eating at his desk, working through the pile of emails and other documents that still needed tending today. “Put some in the freezer and I’ll drop a pot of leftovers over on Friday.” Gabe grinned at his cleverness—it might serve him good to pile up a bunch of reasons to visit Harley and escape the house once those girls descended.
Marlene cooed at a doll she had plucked from a box. “Your mail’s on your desk.”
“Thanks. Did you manage to make it out for extra groceries?” he asked as he walked up his ranch house’s wide front porch. The house was expansive—“too large for one man alone” Marlene never stopped saying. He would always point out that he wasn’t alone—he had her and Jethro—but she would just scowl and give him a “you know what I mean” motherly glare.
On his worse days, Gabe called her Meddling Marlene. On his better days, he tolerated her attempts to fix up his life as well as his house with a begrudging affection. Much as he preferred solitude, the Franks were good company. Big-hearted people, faithful, loyal and kind. What would the state of that beloved solitude be after the three weeks he needed Avery to stay? Shredded, no doubt, but the boys ranch was worth the price.
“We stocked up at the store,” Jethro informed him. “Marlene’s baked cookies already.”
Gabe’s stomach paid attention to those words. “Cookies?”
“Gingerbread,” Marlene said. “You don’t want something too sugary with little ones in the house.”
Marlene had better be more worried about her cookie jar being raided by the big guy in the house. “Better hide those cookies,” Gabe teased as he pulled open the door. “I’ve always liked gingerbread.”
“I knew that,” Marlene declared. “Why do you think I made a double batch? No sneaking till after supper, Gabriel.”
Gabe laughed,