stylishly cut hair, the carefully applied makeup and that womanly shape.
“I suppose I should go inside and let someone know I’m here,” Donna said, as she reached into the back-seat of the convertible and took out a suitcase. Then she pressed a button that caused the top to roll down.
“The housekeeper’s name is Tina,” Tammy said. “She’ll probably show you to your room. There certainly seems to be a lot of them, which means we won’t have to double up.”
Meeting her new cousins was one thing. But sharing their sleeping quarters was another.
Tammy scanned the sprawling house, which had to be three times the size of the one she shared with her father in Grass Valley. And their home was nearly two thousand square feet.
As Donna strode toward the wraparound porch, her hips swayed in a way that looked natural and not at all fake. And Tammy couldn’t help being a bit envious.
She wondered how old her cousin Donna was—certainly more than Tammy’s twenty-five years. Was she thirty yet? It was hard to say. Women who wore makeup could hide a lot of the telltale signs of aging.
As if on its own accord, her hand lifted to her own face, which she never bothered to cover with color or protect with sunblock. Then she scoffed at the brief moment of insecurity and shoved her hands back in her pockets.
Rather than follow Donna back into the house, she scanned the yard, taking in the big barn, the corrals and the outbuildings.
About the time she decided that it might be fun to take off on her own little exploration of the Flying B, another engine sounded in the distance. She waited and watched as a blue pickup arrived.
Another blonde sat behind the wheel. She really didn’t resemble Donna all that much, but Tammy figured it had to be Jenna—especially when she climbed out of the truck and reached for a suitcase in back. Who else could it be?
Tammy gave her a once-over, noting that she was wearing jeans. But hers weren’t as worn or baggy as Tammy’s. In fact, they looked brand-spanking-new.
Her frilly white cotton blouse didn’t hug her curves, like Donna’s sweater had. And unlike Donna, with her womanly curves, Jenna was slight and willowy. But she was just as pretty, just as feminine.
And to be honest, it was enough to make Tammy want to squirm right out of her worn denim jeans.
She sure hoped her cousins didn’t set their sights on Doc, because if either of them did, Tammy would be left in the dust.
How in blazes was she supposed to compete with two beautiful women?
For the first time in her life, Tammy—who could hold her own on a ranch full of men—felt sorely lacking.
Tammy’s father had yet to return after his walk, but that didn’t stop Tina from entering the living room, where Jenna and Donna had just joined Tammy, and suggesting they come to the kitchen and eat the pot roast Barbara had prepared.
“Since everyone will be arriving at different times,” the older woman added, “I don’t see any point in making the rest of you wait to eat.”
The young women, who’d barely had a chance to strike up a conversation, looked at each other, then agreed and followed Tina to the kitchen, where Barbara had set the table for three.
“Later on,” Tina added, “I’ll take you to meet Tex. I know he plans to have a family powwow after everyone gets here, but that’s probably not going to take place until next weekend. In the meantime when he’s awake, I’m sure he’d like a chance to talk to each of you.”
If Tammy were the dying man, she’d want to meet with each person individually, too. And she’d start off by calling in the sons who’d left the ranch and created lives and families of their own. But then again, most people didn’t do things the way Tammy did. Besides, it was Tex Byrd’s call.
Once Barbara had served them, the two older women left them to eat in silence.
After several uncomfortable minutes, Tammy set down her fork and leaned forward in her seat. “Okay, you guys. I think this whole family-reunion thing is weird, not to mention as awkward as all get-out.”
Donna looked up from her plate, her eyebrows arched. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Jenna nodded her agreement.
So they were all feeling the same thing—and probably just as curious about what had created all the ill feelings.
“Do either of you know anything about that falling-out?” Tammy asked.
“I’m afraid not, but I’ve always been curious.” Jenna glanced at her sister, then back to Tammy. “I knew we had an uncle and a grandfather, but that’s about it. My dad never talked about his childhood or life on the Flying B.”
“Neither did mine,” Tammy said. “I asked about it a couple of times, but he refused to answer.” Tammy decided not to mention the talk she’d had with her dad just a few hours ago—or the revelation that Jenna and Donna’s father had done something “unforgivable.”
“Maybe we’ll hear more about it at that family ‘pow-wow’ we’re supposed to have,” Jenna said.
Tammy didn’t know about that. “After thirty-five years of silence, it’s hard to imagine any of those involved opening up.”
“That’s too bad.” Jenna lifted her napkin and blotted her lips. “Having an unsolved family problem can affect other relationships down the road.”
She was probably right, although it hadn’t seemed to affect Tammy’s father or his one and only relationship. Her parents had been happily married—at least, that’s what she’d heard.
“Our parents divorced when we were young,” Donna said. “And our dad never remarried.”
“We lived with our mother until we were eight and ten,” Jenna added. “And when Mom died, we moved in with our dad. By that time, I just assumed that we’d never be close with the Byrd side of the family. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”
Until Tex Byrd had called the family home, Tammy hadn’t given that side of her family a whole lot of thought. And even now, she wasn’t so sure she’d like her relatives, although Jenna and Donna seemed okay.
Donna didn’t appear to be as forthright as her sister. In fact, the two didn’t seem to be especially close. But what did Tammy know about them—or about having relationships with other women?
When it came right down to it, she didn’t have a single thing in common with either of her cousins—other than some shared DNA.
Well, that and the fact they’d lost their mother, too.
“I never knew my mama,” Tammy admitted. “She died when I was two, so my dad raised me on his own.”
“I’m sorry to hear you lost your mother so young,” Jenna said. “A father doesn’t always understand what it’s like to be a girl growing up to be a woman.”
That’s for sure. Tammy smiled. “I guess that’s
