kidding. The cabin was basic, all right, boasting only the bare essentials. But Marlee didn’t want a lot of memories hanging around. It was better to leave them with Rose, who’d made one room of her home into a shrine for her husband, and a second for Cole.
Time passed as she unpacked. Before she knew it, two hours had disappeared. Now the cabin had a few personal touches, making it hers and Jo Beth’s. Collecting toys for her daughter, Marlee put them in a tote. Together she and Jo Beth wandered back to the main house.
Pappy appeared to be engrossed in another program, so Marlee set Jo Beth up near the couch, and emptied the tote onto a worn braided rug.
“Do they have a dining room, Mama? I’m hungry,” Jo Beth said suddenly.
“Me, too,” growled Pappy Jack. “I hope you can cook, girl.” Shutting off the TV, he leveled a hopeful glance at Marlee.
Since they’d come in, he’d been rocking contentedly in a scarred rocker Marlee knew had belonged to his dad. She remembered every square inch of this house, while Jo Beth had only ever lived in Rose Stein’s decorator-designed show home. What a contrast.
“Pappy, I wish I could say I was a great cook. I picked up some tips from my mother-in-law, but whenever I was at the house, it…just seemed easier to let her cook. It was, after all, her home.”
“Maybe you shoulda brought her. Mick says I put stuff on to cook, then go off and let it burn. Hell, he’s a fine one to talk. Half the time he gets to tinkering with engines and can’t remember it’s time to eat.”
Jo Beth looked up from arranging her Polly Pocket hairdresser and fashion model sets. “Mama, that man said a bad word.”
Marlee had Rose Stein to thank for Jo Beth’s prissy attitude, too. The woman had been married to an admiral, but even before his passing she’d insisted the profanity prevalent among military personnel not invade her home. Cole rarely slipped. Marlee often did and got taken to task by Rose. Jo Beth mimicked her grandmother.
Rather than take issue now, Marlee redirected the conversation to what she should fix for supper. Another difference for her daughter—in Rose’s home they dined.
But she needed to shut off her mind. Preparing a meal seemed a good outlet. She found steak thawing in the fridge, and fresh corn in the vegetable keeper. There were baking potatoes in a bin that had always been in the pantry. Just as she patted herself on the back for remembering, the wall phone rang.
“That’s the business line,” Pappy said, glancing up. “Mick says taking orders is gonna be your job. You might as well answer it and get your feet wet, twin.”
Marlee reached for the receiver and smiled. Another thing Pappy used to do—call one of them by their given name and the other twin. Sometimes he used boy or girl. “Hello,” she said, her voice reflecting the remnant of her smile. The caller mumbled that he must have dialed incorrectly.
“Wait—you’ve…reached Cloud Chasers.” She grabbed a pen and hunted for paper. “You’re Wylie Ames?” Marlee’s eyes sought Pappy’s, but he was watching TV again. “I’m sorry to have to ask if you’re an old account of Mick’s or a new customer. Mick? Oh, he’s gone to Kalispell. I expect him back anytime. Who am I? His sister.” She stopped short of adding isn’t any of your concern. Not a good idea to annoy a customer her first day on the job, the man was curt to the point of rudeness.
Her smile turned into a frown when it became apparent the guy didn’t trust her to deliver a message. Tersely, he said, “I have a generator on the fritz. The parts house in Kalispell promised to have my order ready for Mick by the middle of next week.” He sounded even more ill-tempered when Marlee asked if Mick knew where to deliver the goods, and snapped “Yes.” He clicked off without saying goodbye. Glaring at the receiver, Marlee banged it back into its cradle.
“Disagreeable jerk,” she muttered as her brother walked into the house, his limp more pronounced. There were fatigue lines around his mouth Marlee didn’t recall seeing earlier.
“Who’s disagreeable?” Mick shrugged out of a battered brown flyer’s jacket. Marlee remembered fondly when he’d saved up to buy it, or one just like it.
“A customer by the name of Wylie Ames.” She rattled off the reason for his call.
Mick took the message she’d scribbled on a corner of a brown grocery bag. “Wylie’s a good guy. He’s a forest ranger who lives year-round on a remote station on the Glacier Park perimeter. He’s the only official presence in thirty square miles.”
Marlene wrinkled her nose. “He could do with some manners.” Turning, she slid the potatoes in the oven and began to shuck corn.
Pappy had stirred when Mick entered. Stifling a yawn, he said, “You probably wanna steer clear of Ames, girl. Old-timers up-region say his wife disappeared in the dead of night. Just like that.” Pappy tried to snap his gnarled fingers.
Looking up from peeling corn silk, Marlee’s mouth sagged. “You mean people think he—” She broke off and cast a worried frown toward Jo Beth.
Mick hobbled to the couch, sat and picked up one of the child’s plastic dolls, turning it in his big hands. “Don’t pay Pappy any mind,” he said. “Those are crazy rumors, sis. You know how folks in the back country love to gossip. With each repeat, their bear stories get fiercer and fish tales bigger. Wylie’s a good man raising his son alone. Dean is a few years older than Jo Beth. So, you said Wylie expects his stuff when?”
Her mind shifted from Pappy’s warning. “Next Wednesday, he thinks, or Thursday. He said you could call Morrison’s parts house if you don’t hear by Thursday morning.” She found the griddle for cooking steaks and plugged it in.
Pappy Jack faced Mick. “What did the doc have to say about your hip?”
Marlee’s ears perked up.
“Same old, same old, Pappy. Hey, isn’t it good to see Marlee fixing us some decent food for a change?”
Pappy spiked a bushy brow. “Same old, how? You mean the bone doc still wants you in ASAP to replace that socket.”
“Mick? You need more surgery?” Alarmed, Marlee straightened and anxiously twisted the top button on her blouse.
Her brother pursed his lips. He took his time arranging Jo Beth’s doll in a tiny chair. He even clamped a bonnet hair dryer from the toy set over the doll’s head.
“You mean the boy didn’t tell you he’s put off havin’ that joint replaced nigh on four months now?” He turned to his grandson. “When Rusty Meyer called to say he couldn’t fill in to fly our freight runs, I thought you told him that it was okay ’cause Marlee was due in and she’d handle the route?”
Mick sent his grandfather a killer scowl. “Pappy, why do you forget what the hell day it is, and whether or not you took your blood-pressure medicine, yet you remember every frigging detail of my private business?”
Even as Jo Beth pointed out her uncle’s bad word, Marlee presented him with her back while she slapped steaks on a grill beginning to heat up. “Mick…I—”
He broke in. “I know, you made it clear you didn’t come here to fly. Josh Manley at the flying school in Kalispell has a student close to qualifying for solo. Unless the weather
