after a late breakfast, Cassie wanted to have a tea party outside on the front porch. It was a spectacular late June day and Grace didn’t see any reason to say no.
“Let’s get our supplies together,” she said.
In the spacious family room a very large flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall above the rock fireplace and oak mantel. There was also a very large area in a corner beside it where the little girl’s toys were stored. The two of them stood side by side looking at it and taking stock of what they would need.
“Do you want to sit on a blanket and spread out? Or use the outside furniture or your play table? And before you answer, keep in mind that whatever we take outside with us has to be brought back in.”
The little girl thought for a moment. “There are only two chairs on the porch, and my table is too little for Daddy. So maybe a blanket, just in case he has time to play there will be enough room for him.”
“Does he play with you often?”
“No. Never.”
Logan had made it clear that running a ranch took up most of his time and not to expect him to be around much. But there was sadness behind this little girl’s resignation and, apparently, a dash of hope that he might one day have a moment to stop and hang with her, if tea party seating to accommodate his size was anything to go by. If they were talking his sex appeal, Grace couldn’t imagine a venue spacious enough to contain it. Just an observation, not personal or anything.
“Okay,” she said. “A blanket it is.”
An old quilt was neatly folded among the games and toys. Grace grabbed it along with a mesh bag full of pink cups, saucers, a teapot and plastic utensils. She took the string handles, then slipped them over her arm. “We’ll need this.”
“And people, too. But who can I bring?” Cassie tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Ariel has a time-out.”
Grace pressed her lips together to hold back her amusement. This child sounded like a miniature adult, and it was so adorable. When she could talk without laughing she asked, “What did Ariel do to get in trouble?”
“She talked back to her mom. And being tired and crabby is no excuse. Moms get tired and crabby, too. But Daddy never does.” She picked up another doll and shook her head. “Ella can’t go either. Her mom said she had to eat her vegetables and she gave them to the dog.”
Grace knelt down and scooped up a soft, pink terry-cloth baby. “How about this cutie?”
“No.” Cassie shook her head. “She was whining and her mommy ran out of patience.”
Grace noticed that this child was projecting her own experiences on the dolls, and the discipline was clearly mom-centered. “Do their dads ever give them a time-out?”
“No. The dads just smile and pat their heads.” There was a wistful quality in her voice, then she brightened. “I know who to bring. Abigail and Hattie. They’ve been very good and kept their rooms neat and went to bed without complaining.”
“Okay, then.” Grace watched the child grab two dolls around the neck because her arms were too little to carry both with dignity. “Can you handle those by yourself, kiddo?”
“Yes,” she answered proudly.
“I think we might need a blueberry muffin to go along with our tea.” Grace had made a batch the previous evening and noticed that Logan ate more than one before he left the house just shy of dawn this morning.
Cassie met her gaze, eyes solemn and hopeful. “That’s a good idea. But it might spoil my appetite for lunch.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t want to break rules, but maybe there was wiggle room. “Lunch isn’t for a while yet, and if you and I share just one muffin with Abigail and Hattie, that would probably be okay.”
The little girl grinned. “You’re right. Goody!”
“It’s unanimous, then.”
Cassie frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you and I agree,” Grace explained, then looked at the dolls the child was hanging on to. “Although we should ask Abigail and Hattie whether or not they would like some muffin with their tea.”
Cassie looked from one to the other doll. “They both said yes. It’s ’nanimous.”
Imagination with a dollop of rule breaking was a beautiful thing, Grace thought, knowing that was the kindergarten teacher in her talking. She went into the kitchen and took one of the blueberry muffins out of the leftover container, then joined the little girl on the grass. Together they spread out the blanket, propped up the dolls and arranged plastic plates and utensils in front of all tea party participants.
In the distance you could see the lake and the mountains beyond. The view took her breath away. The barn and corral were at the bottom of the rise, and she could see several horses prancing and playing. Then she sat cross-legged with her back to the sight. At her interview, Logan had mentioned he raised cattle and was doing a little horse breeding, too.
She hadn’t seen him since last night in his study and didn’t have a clue when their paths would cross again, although his daughter was insistent about having room for him should he show up for the tea party. Grace’s heart skipped at the thought and she did her best to ignore the involuntary reaction. Anyway, it was silly. Cassie had told her he never showed up to play.
“Can you cut up the muffin?” Cassie asked. “Abigail and Hattie are gettin’ hungry.”
“My apologies, ladies,” she said to the dolls, and Cassie giggled. “Kiddo, if you would pour tea for our guests, I will take care of the snacks.”
Grace didn’t know whether or not the plastic play knives had been washed, so she decided to break up the muffin with her hands, as evenly as possible.
“Here you go, Abigail. And some for you, Hattie,” she said, placing a bite in front of the blonde and brunette dolls.
“Thank you.” Cassie used a high-pitched, pretend voice, obviously channeling either Abigail or Hattie. Then she wolfed down her share of the treat.
Grace’s mouth was full when she heard footsteps. The hairs on her neck stood up, and there was a hitch in her breathing. It wasn’t necessary to see him to know Logan was behind her, and if there was a God in heaven, she would not choke on her blueberry muffin.
Then he moved into view and spoke in the wonderful, deep voice that turned her insides to mush. “What’s going on here?”
“Daddy!” Cassie was clearly excited to see him. “Grace let me have a tea party with my dolls. We shared a muffin and it’s ’nanimous we won’t spoil our appetites.”
“Those muffins are pretty good.” There was male appreciation in his eyes, the kind that was reserved for food.
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
Grace wished that saying hadn’t popped into her head because it made her face flush. “I’m glad you liked them.”
“It wasn’t necessary
