the window and shot a glance into the dresser mirror to be sure she didn’t look frazzled.
“Come in,” she called, trying to sound as benign as possible. She didn’t want to fight with Ro. She’d come to Bell River for one reason only...to see if she could start repairing their relationship. The last thing in the world she wanted was to add to the destruction.
But when Rowena entered, her body language was surprisingly relaxed. Bree had always imagined she could see invisible sparks shooting from her sister when she was angry, but she sensed nothing like that now. Nothing but the fatigue she’d noticed earlier.
Apparently Rowena came in peace. Bree hadn’t realized she’d been clenching her midsection until the muscles released.
“I showed myself around up here,” she said quickly, determined to start right. “Everything looks fabulous, Ro. You’ve done a masterful job with the guest rooms.”
Rowena’s smile broadened. “It did turn out well, didn’t it? I had a lot of help. Did you know that Cindy Sedgwick got two-thirds of the way through architecture school before she found herself pregnant with twins and had to come home to marry Joey Incanto?”
Bree only vaguely remembered who Cindy Sedgwick was, but she made an impressed face, anyhow. “Cindy designed the rooms for you?”
“Yes, and the new guest cottages, too.” Rowena glanced at her watch. “I don’t have another interview until eleven-thirty, so I could give you a tour, if you’d like. I figure you might as well see them now, before guests come in and the Trash Clock starts.”
Bree chuckled, but to be honest, the joke surprised her. That had been one of their father’s favorite lines. He’d always complained that he’d rather postpone buying new equipment as long as he could, because the minute he made the purchase the Trash Clock began ticking, and the new stuff started turning to garbage that would, in its turn, have to be replaced.
Was Rowena really ready to start quoting their father’s cranky humor so casually? But then Bree corrected herself. Ro wasn’t quoting their father—just Bree’s. Rowena had found out last year that mad murderer Johnny Wright’s DNA didn’t match hers in any way.
Zero percent probability that Johnny was Rowena’s real dad.
To which Bree and Penny had said...lucky Ro. Penny had no hope of a similar reprieve, because she was Johnny Wright’s spitting image. But Bree had sent a sample of her DNA off, too, crossing her fingers and saying a prayer.
Her results had been very different. Percent probability of a match? Ninety-nine percent.
Unfortunately, she was the old bastard’s daughter through and through, and she’d simply have to live with that. Must be where her grudging, judgmental streak came from, and her difficulty trusting anybody.
But, damn it, DNA wasn’t destiny. She was her own person, and if she wanted to be more tolerant and trusting, then she could make it happen. Starting right now.
“I’d love to see the cottages,” she said.
For the next hour, her positive attitude was easy to maintain. Four new guest cottages—one that slept six, one that slept four and two smaller units that slept two—had been built as part of Phase One. And each cottage was a perfect jewel.
She loved every detail. She loved their names...River Run, River Song, River Moon and River Rock. She adored their quaint exterior styles, each one unique—some quaint, like fairy-tale storybook cottages, some rustic, like log cabins, and some a hybrid of the two.
And she adored the floor plans, which all included great rooms with big windows overlooking the stunning views. Even the interior decorating was perfect, cozy without being cliché.
Kudos to Cindy Sedgwick. And, of course, to Rowena.
No wonder Ro looked tired. Having staged so many events, Bree understood that every room in every cottage represented about a hundred decisions to make, a hundred details to oversee. She was deeply impressed and didn’t pass up any opportunity to say so.
Even cynical Rowena, whose antennae had always been finely tuned to detect empty flattery, was glowing under the effusive compliments by the time they stopped at the last cottage.
“Enough.” She smiled, holding out her hand. “I believe you’re sincere right now, but one more and I’ll start to think you’re blowing smoke.”
Bree laughed. “Okay. Nothing but insults from this moment on.”
She could hardly keep that promise, though. River Moon, built right at the edge of one of the small creek offshoots of Bell River, was a storybook charmer. This cottage, with its round blue door, steeply pitched, sloping roof and climbing yellow roses, would probably be used as the honeymoon suite. Phase Two included marketing the ranch for destination weddings.
They wandered through the adorable rooms, all the way to the sunny bedroom at the back.
“Oh, this quilt is—” But somehow Bree bit her tongue, holding back the word fabulous.
Rowena smiled, shaking her head. “I mean it, Bree. Enough.”
But the quilt, which had been draped over a Bentwood rocker, was fabulous. Bree ran her hand over the intricate blue-and-yellow pattern of entwined hearts. Each cottage bedroom had its own signature antique quilt, the one theme that ran through all four cottages, but this was the most beautiful of them all.
If Bree had wanted to say something less fawning, she might have voiced the one doubt that had niggled at her throughout the tour. Were the interior decorations maybe almost too beautiful?
Too beautiful for their tight budget, anyhow.
But obviously she didn’t utter a peep about that. She might have reached her limit of compliments, but she hadn’t reached the point at which she could dare to express a criticism.
Besides, Ro wasn’t exactly a shopaholic. She wouldn’t have spent the money if she hadn’t thought it was important. Bree forced the worry from her mind, and instead strolled the perimeter of the airy room, drinking in the romance of every charming detail.
“This may be my favorite of all the cottages. That’s not a compliment,” she hastened to add. “Just a fact. Just a personal preference. The colors...the creek. I don’t know, something just appeals to me.”
“I thought it might,” Rowena said. She lowered herself onto the rocker and leaned her head back against the quilt with a sigh, as if she didn’t get to sit down very often these days. “I used the colors from your old room. Remember?”
Bree scanned the area with new eyes. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now... Her childhood bedroom had once been painted this exact shade of powder blue, and her canopy bed had been trimmed in bluebell-daffodil patterned linens that she had loved with an innocent, absolute passion. She’d felt like a fairy princess in that room.
“I’d forgotten,” she said softly. “I can’t believe it, but I’d actually forgotten.”
Once the floodgates were open, she felt the memory rush through her. She suddenly saw Rowena and their mother, arguing quietly at the Mill End store in downtown Gunnison. Ro had tucked a bolt of flower-sprigged fabric under her arm with the grim tenacity of a quarterback protecting
