“Carina’s having trouble accepting all of this and I feel like I’m failing as a parent.”
“My heart aches for the both of you.” Ella smothered her with another hug. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but you’re with family now and we’ll take good care of you.”
“Thank you.” Ella’s compassion intensified the pressure welling in Lucy’s chest. Her divorce from Antonio had been difficult enough for their daughter to accept, but his death had left Carina inconsolable. “That means the world to me. I don’t know if she’ll ever get past losing her father.”
“She will in time. Moving from Italy to Texas is a big adjustment. And just so you know, we only told the children about Antonio’s death.” Ella squeezed her hand. “We didn’t feel the rest was theirs or anyone else’s concern.”
The past few months had been a nightmare for Lucy, but they’d been hardest for Carina. Antonio had been so deep in debt at the time of his death that everything they’d owned had been seized shortly afterward—including their daughter’s beloved horses. Lucy hoped Carina would begin to heal now that they’d moved away from the constant reminders of what they’d lost.
“I appreciate Nicolino giving me this job opportunity and your aunt Kay’s generosity in renting us one of the cottages until we’re back on our feet. I was a bit of a troublemaker when I used to visit. I’m surprised she’s allowing me to stay on the ranch.”
“You were a cakewalk compared to her boys. Believe me—we’re all happy you’re here. Would you like to come in and have some sweet tea or a cup of coffee?”
Lucy glanced at her daughter, who couldn’t have looked more miserable if she tried. “Would you mind if we passed? I feel grungy. We’ve been traveling for over twenty-four hours and I’m anxious to show Carina our new home.”
“Of course.” Ella smiled down at the little girl. “She’s the spitting image of you. Give me one second and I’ll get you the keys to the cottage.”
Lucy brushed the hair from Carina’s face. “How are you doing, mia gattina?” She’d affectionately called her daughter my kitten since the day she was born. Three months premature, Carina had never cried loudly as a baby. It was always more of a mew.
“I can’t understand them,” Carina said in Italian. “They don’t speak much Italian and their English doesn’t sound like the English I know.”
Lucy had feared her daughter’s thick accent compared to everyone else’s Texas twang would make conversation difficult at first. “Give it a chance. Before you know it, you’ll understand everything they’re saying. The more you speak English, the easier it will become.”
“I don’t want to be here, Mamma.” Carina pushed away, continuing in Italian, “This is your family. I want to go back to our house and my friends.”
Lucy’s stomach knotted. “Sweetheart, you know we can’t do that. None of those things belong to us anymore and this is very much your family, too.”
“Why did Papà have to die?” She folded her arms tightly across her chest—her walls up once again. The pain reflected in Carina’s eyes gutted Lucy. Her fun-loving daughter hadn’t laughed or smiled since before Antonio’s death. Now, four months later, she appeared harder and much older.
Ella returned with multiple keys and handed them to Lucy. “This is for the cottage, this one’s for our house in case you ever need something and we’re not home and this last one is for my car. I’m not using it, since Nicolino bought me an SUV, so please take it for as long as you need.”
“Thank you, Ella.” Lucy fought back the tears that threatened to break free. She’d managed to remain strong for Carina’s sake and refused to show any weakness now.
“Follow me over to your place and then I’ll leave you be. Do promise to join us for dinner tonight. I’ve stocked your kitchen, but we planned a small gathering to welcome you to Texas.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Lucy answered for the two of them, knowing Carina wanted nothing to do with it. She also had the feeling Ella and Nicolino had prepared a feast rather than an intimate family meal.
After Ella had shown them around the cottage and left, they were alone for the first time since they’d departed Italy. Carina’s brows lifted in anticipation of Lucy’s next words.
“I know you were hoping for more, but this is the best I can do.” It had taken every penny to send ahead what belongings they had left and to pay for their plane tickets and the bare necessities. “I promise you, we will get through this together.”
Carina didn’t argue; she didn’t cry; she didn’t say a word, and it had become increasingly frustrating. Lucy wanted to help her daughter, but she no longer knew how. Antonio had been Carina’s confidant, and that had suited Lucy just fine. She’d wanted them to maintain a close relationship. Even after the divorce, which had been amicable, Antonio had made a point to see Carina almost every day. He’d been the one helping her with her homework while Lucy earned her master’s degree. He’d also been her dressage instructor, grooming her to be a champion one day. When he died, Carina’s dreams had died with him. And there was no convincing her that it was all right to continue pursuing those dreams in memory of her father.
Lucy glanced around the tiny two-bedroom cottage. Okay, so it was a long way from their eighteenth-century luxury villa in Parma, but the house was cozy, and for the first time in months she felt secure. Worn oak planks replaced the marble-and-parquet flooring they were accustomed to. There were Sheetrock ceilings above instead of ornate coffered ones and rustic hand-me-downs in place of her elegant furnishings.
The cottage was tidy and freshly painted inside and out. Ella had taken care to add personal touches such as handmade quilts and family heirlooms that Lucy suspected were special to her and Nicolino. Outside, freshly mulched beds filled with vibrant late-summer flowers lined both sides of the front walkway. The strawberry-colored cottage with its white trim was quaint and inviting. No, it wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean, and more important...it was theirs.
“This is what they call shabby chic.” She knew Carina had already popped in her iPod earbuds and drowned out her words, but Lucy feared if she stopped moving or talking, she’d think about the last time she was in Ramblewood.
“It’s in the past.” Lucy dragged her suitcases into the bedroom. “And it needs to stay there.”
They might have lost almost everything they’d owned, but Ramblewood was their chance at a fresh start, and she’d do whatever it took to ensure it was successful. The sooner she and Carina developed a new routine, the sooner they’d rebuild their lives and their relationship. After dinner she’d insist on starting her new job tomorrow. Nicolino would understand. Having emigrated from Italy to Texas almost twenty-five years ago, he’d begun a new life on this very ranch and worked his way up to general operations manager. Now it was her turn, and Lucy refused to allow anything to get in the way.
* * *
LANE MORGAN LEFT the bunkhouse before sunrise. He could barely contain his excitement as he made his way to the Bridle Dance Ranch stables. The rumor was Nicolino Travisonno had gathered many of the ranch employees to announce Lane’s long-awaited promotion to barn manager. He’d known the day was coming, but he hadn’t expected this much fanfare.
He had worked beside the last barn manager on the quarter-of-a-million-acre paint and cutting horse ranch since he was a teenager. An after-school job had turned full time once he’d graduated high school. When Curly had announced his retirement last month, Lane had expected Nicolino to offer him the position then. Curly’s last day had come and gone over three weeks ago, and Lane continued to wait. He’d been doing Curly’s job ever since and at this point an official announcement was only a formality.
“Today’s the day.” A ranch hand slapped him on the back. “You deserve it.”
That he did. Lane hadn’t been fortunate enough