led her to the kitchen where the two boys already waited at a large wooden table. Three other places had been set. Zach pulled out a chair for her and she sat.
While Zach and Rick served canned tomato soup and basic grilled cheese sandwiches, Nadine thought back to some of the amazing sandwiches she’d had in New York City with all of its different restaurants and cuisines. This didn’t begin to compare.
Zach sat down and met her eye. Had he guessed what she was thinking? She should be careful that she didn’t let that kind of attitude bleed through. Why should she compare the two? Rodeo, Montana, was valid in its own right. She’d been raised on canned soup and white bread sandwiches, even if her tastes had changed.
Fortunately these days, she could indulge her new tastes at the Summertime Diner. Violet Summer did an amazing job of elevating old classics.
Who knew? Someday Nadine might be working for Vy. If Nadine couldn’t get the information Lee wanted, she could kiss her career goodbye, a thought that pained her deep in her soul. She probably would end up working as a waitress for Vy.
Not that there was anything wrong with the job, but it wouldn’t fill her passion for reporting, interviewing and writing, would it?
She wasn’t meant to do anything other than report on people, places and things. Journalism had saved her life. It had made her adolescence bearable. It had made life with her aunt less devastating.
How could she give it up now? Writing was her only purpose in life. Her passion. Without it, she would be aimless and lost.
A part of her would die.
Throughout the quiet, uncomfortable meal, the children stared at her. Her smiles for them, while genuine, were restrained. She just didn’t know what to do with children. How should she talk to them? What should she say?
In high school, while other kids were earning money babysitting, she had been writing articles for the high school newsletter and for the Rodeo Wrangler.
She was more comfortable with her friends’ children, maybe because they were little pieces of her friends in miniature form. She wasn’t comfortable with Zach, so perhaps there was a double whammy thing happening here. She couldn’t relax around Zach. It made sense she couldn’t relax around his children, either.
After what felt like an eternity, Nadine put down her spoon, her soup bowl empty. It might have been plain food, but it brought back memories of lunch in the high school cafeteria with her friends, and that wasn’t a bad thing. She wondered if they were still serving the same food or if they’d updated it by now. Teenagers were a lot savvier than they used to be.
Funny, she’d enjoyed the soup and sandwich after all.
If only the children would stop sneaking peeks at her. She wanted to ask Rick questions about Zach, but would rather not do it in front of the children. Instead, she engaged him in chatter about things going on around town.
Eventually, one of the boys—Ryan, maybe?—piped up.
“You write?” he asked. He’d been fidgeting throughout lunch.
“Yes. I write articles for the Rodeo Wrangler about all the things that go on around town.” She cursed the sound of her voice, too fake and hearty. Even to her own ears, it betrayed her unease with the little boys.
The child fixed her with an intent gaze. “Can you read my story?”
“You wrote something?” she asked. “How wonderful.” She, too, had written stories at that age.
He nodded. “Can you read it?”
“I guess that would be all right.”
“Great.”
He got up from the table, but Zach said, “Aiden,” in a quiet but firm voice.
Aiden stopped and looked at his father.
“After dessert.”
“Okay, Dad.” Aiden sat back down.
Obedient kids.
Throughout a long dessert—long to Nadine, at any rate, with Zach quiet and intense at the opposite end of the table and the two boys fidgeting until the last mouthful was swallowed—she tried to relax.
Was that what children did, fidgeted, or were these two unusually active? Zach didn’t seem to notice or mind.
When he stood, Nadine breathed relief. His father collected dirty plates and cutlery. When Nadine offered to wash dishes, he waved her away. “Go read Aiden’s story.”
Zach led her to the living room and motioned for her to sit on the sofa. Aiden and Ryan ran into the room and jumped up beside her, nestling as close as they could on either side.
“Oh!” She wasn’t used to children crowding her. Nadine tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go, bracketed as she was by the boys. She allowed Aiden to insert his head up under her arm so she had no choice but to put her arm around him.
Friendly little guy. His twin did the same on the other side.
Aiden retrieved something from the small table beside the sofa.
“Here.” He thrust a folder at her, homemade from yellow Bristol board and decorated with a drawing of a boy on a horse. She smiled, wondering if he wanted to be a painter like his dad one day.
She took her arm from around Ryan’s shoulder and gingerly accepted the story from Aiden, avoiding the small blob of cheese still stuck to one of his fingers. Her dress had been expensive when she’d bought it three years ago. She couldn’t afford to replace it if grease from that cheese stained it.
Go clean your hands. Where do you think we live? In a barn?
Nadine shut out that voice so she could give Aiden’s story her full attention. She opened the folder. Large, childish printing covered four sheets of lined paper, front and back.
“Read it out loud,” Aiden ordered.
With the boys’ warm weight tucked close to her sides, she read Aiden’s story...and was charmed. The story of what he knew—life on a ranch—delighted her.
When she closed the folder, he leaned forward and twisted around until he could look up at her. “Is it good?”
“Yes, it is.” How could she deny that earnest gaze anything? “It’s a wonderful story.”
His smile warmed her heart. “What was the best part?” he asked.
“When the boy rescued the pony from the crevasse he’d fallen into.”
“Yeah! That’s my favorite part, too. Boys are good at rescuing.”
“Girls, too,” Nadine said, but Aiden’s returning look was dubious.
Oh, dear. She shot a glance at Zach who said, “Girls, too.”
“Dad, tell her,” Ryan
