A Last Chance Christmas. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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“You mean Sarah isn’t Nick’s mother, either?”
“Nope. After Diana left Jonathan, he went sort of crazy and had an affair with a free spirit who was just passing through. She kept her pregnancy to herself and had Nick without notifying Jonathan. When Nick was six months old, his mother died in a sky-diving accident. Baby Nick arrived in a cab with a lawyer, and Sarah took the little guy in and raised him as her own. But she doesn’t have kind words for Nick’s mother.”
“I’ll bet not. Sounds like one flakey lady.”
“One who paid the price for it.” As they neared the end of the hallway, Pete lowered his voice again. “Regarding the saddle, I figure we’ll just leave it on display in the living room until Christmas. I doubt the weather will be good enough for her to try it out, anyway, and everyone can see it when they walk in.”
“Sounds good. Oh, and don’t be surprised if I end up buying a horse. I asked Jack to show me some prospects this afternoon.”
Pete laughed. “You did? That’s terrific. Everything’s working out great, isn’t it?”
“Looks like it.” They entered the living room and he noticed Sarah sitting alone, sipping her wine and gazing into the crackling fire. “Where’s Molly?” He hadn’t realized how much he’d anticipated seeing her until she wasn’t there.
“She told me your suggestion about her cousin Cade, and I thought she should call right now. After dinner might be too late, and tomorrow it’ll be a zoo around here. She could get sidetracked and forget. So she went to look up the place online to see if she could get the number.”
“That’s great.” Ben hadn’t expected Molly to act on his suggestion this fast. He had the number saved in his phone, but no doubt she’d found it online by now.
Which meant she was already calling. If she mentioned that she’d heard about them from him, they could easily tell her that he’d made a couple of saddles for them. That, in itself, wouldn’t be bad unless she came down and asked about his saddle-making business in front of Sarah.
If Sarah learned what he did for a living, she’d probably put it all together. His only hope was that if Molly got the information from the Padgetts, she’d figure out the secret and keep it to herself.
Pete sat in the chair next to Sarah’s. That left one empty chair and the sofa. Ben noticed Molly’s wine glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa, so he sat there, too, hoping to be next to her. Close proximity would give him more options if he had to suddenly keep her from saying something incriminating.
“What’s this about Molly’s cousin?” Pete picked up his drink.
Sarah combed her silvery hair back with one hand. “She wants to pick up his trail in Sheridan, which was the last address they had for him and his mother. It’s a happy coincidence that Ben is from there. You’re sure you don’t know anybody named Marlowe, Ben?”
“I’m still thinking, and I’ll keep my ears open once I get back, but the name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“I haven’t paid much attention to rodeo stars over the years,” Sarah said. “So I wouldn’t recognize the name Rance Marlowe even if he had been well-known.”
Pete shook his head. “Me, either. Did Molly ask the boys?”
Ben got a kick out of Pete’s reference to three grown men as boys, but the Chance brothers would probably always be the boys to Sarah and Pete.
“I’m sure she asked them.” Sarah chuckled. “That girl is like a quiz-show host when it comes to questions. She has a million of them. And she loves to dig into what she calls archives. I let her look through Jonathan’s old trunk full of papers and souvenirs, which she adored, and then I let her read my mother-in-law’s diaries covering all the years she and Archie lived here. You’d have thought I’d offered Molly a sack of gold.”
“She’s fun to have around,” Pete said. “I’m going to miss her when she leaves on Monday. But getting back home for Christmas is important to her. She’s really big on family.”
“I gathered that,” Ben said.
“Well, so am I.” Sarah took another sip of her wine. “I’ll admit when I married Jonathan I didn’t realize how important the whole concept of family would become to me. I’m an only child, so my original family consisted of three people. Now I find myself surrounded with an entire clan and it’s wonderful.”
“And I’m lucky enough to be part of that clan,” Pete said. “I’m so thankful that Sarah agreed to let me into the club.”
Ben felt as if he’d stumbled into a foreign land where he could barely speak the language. He’d heard people talk about the importance of family, but he’d never understood it on a gut level. His experience growing up had taught him the destructive nature of family ties.
Sarah glanced over at him. “Speaking of that, do you have any siblings, Ben?”
“An older brother in Colorado.” He never knew what to say when such questions came up, or how to answer them so the questions would stop. But in this case, with all the talk about bonding, he might have a way out. “We’re not close.”
Sympathy flashed in Sarah’s blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Ben shrugged and used Molly’s earlier response, one he’d thought was brilliant at the time. He’d keep it in mind for any future conversations regarding his family. “That’s the way it happens sometimes.”
“I know it does, but...” Sarah hesitated. “I hope being in the middle of this crazy group doesn’t bother you.”
“Not at all.” This much he could say with conviction. “I like it.”
MOLLY KEYED IN the number for Thunder Mountain Ranch with some misgivings. Despite what she’d told Ben, she was conflicted about what she might uncover with this phone call. If Rosie Padgett had no knowledge of Heather or Cade, then Molly was back where she started.
But if the woman had heard of them, that meant they’d contacted social services and very likely had struggled to make a life for themselves. Molly didn’t remember her Aunt Heather much at all, but her dad sure did. Heather was his sister, after all, and the news might not be very good.
A woman answered the phone. “Thunder Mountain Ranch.”
Well, she’d come this far. Molly took a deep breath. “Hi. I’m Molly Gallagher, and I’m looking for information on my cousin, Cade Marlowe, or his mother, Heather. A friend suggested I call and see if you knew anything about them.”
“Cade Marlowe?”
“Yes. His father’s a bull rider named Rance, but I’m sure he’s retired from that by now. The last letter my family got from Heather was postmarked in Sheridan, but that was years ago. I’m trying to find out if anybody remembers them or has