Chapter 10
NOELLE
Lily slept in my arms later that evening when my phone buzzed, which I thankfully remembered to set on vibrate so it didn’t wake her. I slid the accept button over, pressed an ear to it, and whispered, “Just a sec, Marsha! Lily is sleeping.”
“Sure, honey! Take your time.”
Lily shuddered a breath, but remained asleep when I transferred her to the middle of the bed. Cade was listening to a podcast about cattle grazing rights while he assembled a bouncer for Lily in the living room, cursing under his breath as he rustled instructions and searched for parts.
Stepping into the hallway, I spoke again.
“Sorry.”
“No problem! How are things?”
Nerves curled in my stomach. Kinoshi had read the will yesterday, and Marsha was only just returning my call. Probably out on a yacht somewhere in the middle of the sea. Or catamaran, was it?
“Um . . . good. Things at the ranch are good.”
“Well? Did Bart or your father inherit the place? Was there an estimate of value, or something?”
“Ah . . . no.”
I slipped into the kitchen and sat at the table, spotting a teacup, several different sachets of tea, a crock of honey, and a kettle of steaming water on the stovetop. I didn’t need to ask if it was for me; Cade was just that thoughtful.
“No? Sorry, honey. Did you say no? It’s a little scratchy out here. We’re on a private beach. I’m calling from the satellite phone!”
Of course she was. Yet again, I felt a surge of gratitude that I didn’t have to move in with Marsha and Bart.
Grateful to do something with my hands, I grabbed a chamomile sachet.
“Actually, the ranch went to Cade.”
A pause. “I’m sorry, did you say Cade?”
“Yes.”
“The ranch went to Cade?”
“Uh huh.”
“The entire ranch went to Cade?”
I wondered if she’d believe it sooner if she kept repeating it.
“Yes. The ranch went to Cade in its entirety.”
I bit my bottom lip, twisting the honey spoon in the golden liquid before drizzling it on top of the chamomile. After I poured hot water into the mug, steam luffed from the saturated teabag. Marsha stumbled for words, and I thought I heard Bart in the background.
“Well . . . I . . . that is . . .”
When she spoke again, it was indiscernible and distant, as if she’d covered the phone with her hand. Movement drew my gaze to the doorway, where Cade leaned into the kitchen, an eyebrow lifted. He didn’t appear concerned, merely curious.
“Is Marsha upset?”
I shrugged, smiling uncertainly. Marsha’s response was kind of funny, highlighting her wild hopes set against cold reality. I felt for my aunt and uncle. To lose an inheritance with emotional ties wasn’t easy. But they already had enough wealth.
Marsha returned, her voice shrill. “Can we speak to Cade, honey?”
Her voice echoed into the room. She spoke loudly. Probably too many wine coolers. Cade straightened up, hand out held.
“Sure thing.”
He came to me, and I passed the phone over. His voice was calm and steady. Warm, even.
“Hello, Marsha.”
A tizzy of words followed. Cade leaned against the counter, kicked one leg in front of the other, tucked a hand in a pocket, stared at the floor, and waited for her storm to blow out.
I sipped at my tea, trying not to appreciate his boots, his jeans, and the way they accented his body.
Not to mention the generous and attractive fact that he assembled a bouncer for my daughter.
Put a cowboy hat on him and he’d be the complete picture.
Of dizzying bliss.
My face heated at the thought. The growing attraction I felt for him was almost obscene.
Marsha’s volume lowered, losing steam. After a full minute of listening to her diatribe, he spoke for the second time.
“I imagine this surprise is a difficult one to navigate, Marsha. Morgan made a lot of decisions that sometimes wouldn’t make sense to people who didn’t work here, but in the end, he knew he wanted the property to remain intact, as a working ranch. I’m sorry you were caught in the middle of this.”
His empathy turned my already gooey heart to utter mush. I had another sip of tea to hide my obvious ogling. Cripes, was he perfect? I may not survive. He’d distract me from the coordination work I’d agreed to, and I’d have to carry around a bucket to catch my drool.
But there was something else here.
In the ranch house, beyond the bones that had some hope and the disrepair that had none. Yes, this land and house were Cade’s, in the same way that Lily was mine. Gifted inheritance.
Yet, it was . . . more.
Memories remained alive in these walls, and I unlocked them every time I strode through the rooms. Ghosts called to me. Memories of Grandma, of happiness. Times when Naomi and I brushed each other's hair, and pounced after grasshoppers outside, and ate dinner around a table.
For all their faults, Grandma and Grandpa deeply loved the two of us. We received from them what our parents never gave.
Time.
I couldn’t recall a single meal we hadn’t eaten together at the ranch.
Nor was there a time when Grandpa tried to get rid of us, or Grandma pawned us off to a babysitter, the way our busy-and-superficial parents had.
Grandma sat next to us on the porch, watching butterflies.
Grandpa was so pleased when we offered to help him paint the barn. We were filthy, delightful messes.
Being here, that Noelle stirred awake again. Beyond the grief of losing a twin that had never really belonged to me, and gaining a daughter I hadn’t been prepared for, was this feeling. The only word that made sense was awakening.
A gentle hand on my shoulder jarred me from the recollections. I sucked in a breath, jerking upright, as Cade passed the phone to me.
“Marsha wants to speak to you.”
His hand dropped off my shoulder like a flash of heat, and he strode out of the kitchen with the heavy tread of cowboy boots. Dizzy from falling into deep ideas, and returning to find Cade’s soft eyes so close, I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Marsha?”
“I’m going to need some time to wrap my head around this, honey, but I can’t say I’m that surprised.”
Her fluttering voice, heightened by anxiety, was a telltale sign of an impending crash out. Marsha hated surprises, which is yet another reason I didn’t want to drag a baby into their life.
“We haven’t visited Morgan in years,” she continued, prattling now, “and that place was a disaster even then. Cade seemed to say that it was worse than before. He may not have inherited much after all, and maybe it’s for the better. No one likes a bad investment.”
Her words echoed.
No one likes a bad investment.
How quickly she’d thrown this magical place away.
“I’m sorry, Marsha.”
“I need to go! Our friends are calling to me. Bart and I will discuss—” Static consumed her voice. She resumed, saying, “Talk soon, honey! Thank you!” and clicked off.
Relief flowed through me as I nursed my chamomile tea, listened to the distant chatter of cowboys talking about state land grazing rights, watched the snow falling on the porch outside, and considered that sometimes one woman’s bad investment was another woman’s saving grace.
Grandma’s ghost coaxed me out of bed early the next morning.
Distant dreams of helping to manage a clinical trial, the astringent smell of hospital rooms, and interviewing patients bled from my brain as I padded out of the bedroom and peered into the living room.
The couch was empty. Cade had folded up his blankets, set them neatly on top of his pillow, and stacked them at the end.
He left so silently for morning chores, I barely knew he lived here.
We needed to work on cleaning out one of the spare bedrooms, or fixing the broken window in his barn room. I wasn’t sure which would be more difficult, because I hadn’t seen the window. As owner, he deserved better accommodations than a barn room.
I slipped into the kitchen and stood in front of the range. My eyes closed, and I followed a memory. The light smell of sulfur, a flare of fire, and the welcoming call of Grandma chirping, Well! Good morning little bird. Aren’t you up early? no matter how late I slept in.
Her wrinkled hand would go to the tea kettle, bring it to the sink, fill it, and set it on the waiting flame. My eyes opened.
A water-filled tea kettle awaited me.
With her memory gliding through my thoughts, I mimicked her motions.
From setting the water on to boil, to withdrawing the giant frying pan from the wall peg, to seeking eggs.
I replayed the memories of Naomi and I tromping to the barn.
The dry rustle of hay, the squawk and protestation and fluttering wings as we sought freshly-laid eggs.
Today, there were no fresh eggs on the counter in the spiral feeder that Grandma used to set them in after cleaning them.
Just the eggs Cade purchased in the fridge.
I frowned.
We needed chickens. Didn’t we have chickens? Maybe they weren’t laying.
I’d talk to Cade.
The thought came so easily I almost didn’t notice it. Talk to Cade, like I had any buy-in here. Like it mattered what Noelle Morgan wanted from Cade Callahan’s ranch. Had I settled in so readily in the first three days?
My hands reached for an apron I found at the bottom of the towel drawer, humming the same notes Grandma hummed, reaching for the flour, the yeast, the water.
Grandma never measured anything. When I leaned into the rhythm of falling salt granules, the smell of yeast, and warmed butter, I began to discover what I sought.
Grounding.
Stability.
Noelle.
No, Naomi. There were lost parts of me that I hadn’t yet acknowledged, because I was too busy keeping Lily alive.
But now the biggest fears were solved. We had a place to stay.
Heat. Food. Cade provided a protection and security I had never imagined.
With those promises secured, the rest bubbled to the surface.
Naomi.
My twin.
My second heart beat.