elegance,” Lauren answered. In contrast to her twin’s sophistication, she felt as if she was a country bumpkin. Before they’d met, Lauren had figured she and her sister would be alike. After all, they were identical twins and she’d read stories of separated twins discovering amazing similarities and parallels in their lives. So far it hadn’t worked out that way.
“Why would you want to compete with Tara?” Emily countered. “Her clothes work for her, but you have to be yourself, and anyone worth knowing would agree with me.”
Lauren choked out a laugh and said good-night to her friend—at least she was going home to a husband who adored her.
The doorbell rang a short time later. It was Carl, deliciously handsome in a tan sports jacket.
His gaze ran over her in what seemed to be appreciation.
“You look amazing,” he told her.
“I had help. Emily came over.”
He smiled. “I’m flattered. You called in a fashion consultant for our evening together.”
His interpretation was nice and she decided not to explain that her friend’s most important contribution had been to calm her shaky nerves. It couldn’t take much longer before he figured out what she was really like, and a dull melancholy went through her at the thought.
WHEN TARA ARRIVED at the Boxing N on Monday morning, Josh McGregor met her at the office and she wondered if he’d make another attempt to get her to quit.
“The building is quite old. It was converted to the ranch office after my grandparents were married,” he explained as they stepped inside. “Before that it was used for guests and as a second bunkhouse during the busy season.”
“Where was the office before?” she asked.
“The house. The ranch hands were in and out a lot, and they smoked cigars. The tobacco made my grandmother ill, so she probably asked if operations could be shifted to another location.”
From the corner of her eye she noticed Walt had come through the open door and was listening.
“The other day I found some historical records, including an invoice from the 1800s,” she murmured.
“Really?” Josh seemed interested. “I wouldn’t want anything like that thrown away.”
She deliberately turned to address his grandfather. “Walt, I don’t dispose of anything unless I’m asked to discard items older than a particular date.”
The elderly man appeared to be assessing the situation.
“Older than a certain date?” Josh repeated.
“There are legalities involved with record keeping, but it’s an owner’s decision what to do with paperwork that no longer has tax or other legal implications.”
“Okay. Put that sort of thing in boxes and I’ll check it over.”
“You aren’t my employer, Mr. McGregor. Walt, shall I organize any historic material I locate?” she asked. Walt grinned while a flash of anger crossed Josh’s face.
Walt nodded. “Can it be stored in a way that makes sense?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, but I’d suggest using archival storage materials. A lot of paper today is acidic, so putting old documents into files without protecting them could be damaging.”
“Get whatever you need,” Josh put in hastily. “We have an office supply store in Schuyler, and if they don’t have what you require, they can order it.”
Walt jutted out his chin. “I’ll phone and tell the store you’ll be making purchases for the Boxing N. They can bill me.”
The two men stared at each other in silent combat, and Tara didn’t want to find out how long it would take for one of them to back down.
“That’s fine,” she interjected. “Walt, we didn’t talk about whether office records should also be computerized.”
“No,” Walt replied immediately.
“Yes,” Josh said at the same time.
“You’re working for me,” Walt reminded her.
“Then I’ll hire you, too,” Josh asked. “Everything needs to be computerized.”
Tara’s head was beginning to ache; the tension between the two men was palpable. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but her sympathies were entirely with Walt.
“Perhaps this could be sorted out another time,” she said finally.
With a stiff, angry nod, Josh stomped out of the office building.
Walt settled into one of the comfortable chairs at the opposite end of the room while she started to work.
“My grandson is wrong,” he said after several minutes.
“About what?”
“Evelyn didn’t ask me to move my office out of the house. But I could tell cigar smoke bothered her, so I moved into this place.”
The wistful expression in the old man’s eyes made Tara curious, but she didn’t try to probe.
“That was thoughtful,” she answered.
“I would have done anything for my wife...at least, that’s what I always claimed. She was an amazing woman. I should have...”
His voice trailed off, and he looked at the window behind her, though she didn’t think it was the garden he was seeing. She’d learned the Nelsons had been in a terrible car accident the previous autumn; Evelyn had lingered for a few days before she passed, and Walt had been left with a painful limp. It was dreadfully unfair that he would have to spend his senior years without his wife. Again she felt that odd, powerful liking for the older man. His obvious loneliness reminded Tara of how solitary her own life was.
Since he seemed lost in thought again, Tara returned her attention to the chaotic office. Organizing it would take some time. The system—such as it was—appeared to be limited to creating the piles of papers she’d seen the first day, along with battered boxes and paper bags. Instead of holding paperwork, the ancient filing cabinets were stuffed with a miscellany of items.
After a while Tara glanced up and saw Walt had left. That made things easier. She combined several partial boxes so she’d have containers to unload the cabinets. Opening one of the file drawers, she pulled out a large tangle of leather straps.
“What have you got there?” Josh McGregor asked.
Tara jerked at the unexpected voice, her heart skipping. She made a mental note to keep the office door closed while she worked and to look for a bell that could alert her when anyone was entering. For such tall men, both Walt and his grandson moved quietly, and she didn’t enjoy being
