Cassandra Austin (4 page)

“Are you ready to see your room and unpack?” Emily asked.

“I believe so,” she answered gratefully. “Just let me return my glass to the kitchen and thank Martha.” She stood and turned toward Hugh. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay the summer.”

“That’s quite all right. Leave your glasses on the tray. I’ll take care of them. You two run along and rest before dinner.”

“Thanks, Papa.” Emily ran to give him a hug before leading Lynnette into the house. The stairs were all that separated the living room from the dining room, and, as they started up, Lynnette looked over the banister at a lovely simple table with six straightback chairs.

“The stairs are in the center of the house,” Emily explained. “There are four rooms upstairs, one in each corner.”

The stairs emerged onto a narrow landing. A railing that matched the banisters circled the stairwell. “That’s your room.” Emily pointed to a door to the right. “Papa and I get the great view. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lynnette said.

Emily paused by the collection of valises, picking one to take to her room. “I’m over here,” she said. “If you need anything, just knock.”

“Thank you, Emily. Have a good rest” She watched the girl go into her room. If Christian and Arlen’s rooms were to the back of the house, that must be Christian’s door. She quickly turned and noted
Hugh’s door as well. She didn’t care which room was Christian’s.

She turned the knob to Arlen’s door and pushed it open. Her trunk stood just inside. She gathered up her valises and brought them in with her, plunking them down on top of her trunk before she turned to look around.

The room was large, as she had expected. A star quilt in shades of pink and green covered the four-poster bed, giving the room its only color. The tops of the dresser and writing desk were bare except for oil lamps. The drapes that could be drawn across the balcony doors were an eggshell white. Only two pictures were on the wall, one a family portrait, the other a garden scene in hazy, subdued colors.

Did this colorless room reflect Arlen’s tastes? She was sure the pink and green quilt wasn’t his. She decided she shouldn’t make too much of it. Perhaps the quilt replaced one of even brighter hues. She crossed to the writing desk, opening the top drawer. It was stuffed with items that normally would have cluttered a desktop. Lynnette smiled to herself as she closed the drawer. He had cleared the top for her.

A quick check of the dresser revealed that he had emptied more than half of the drawers for her belongings, evidently moving his necessities to Christian’s room. She went to work, unpacking her bags and the trunk. She tried to conjure up some feeling of intimacy with Arlen as she put her undergarments away where his had recently been stored, but she didn’t feel any different than she would moving into a hotel room. She brushed it off as a result of his items having been
removed before her arrival. There was very little here to remind her of Arlen.

She left a few of her things in the trunk for storage and shoved it against the wall. Once everything else was put away, she went to the balcony. It was smaller than the one downstairs, probably no more than five feet square. She stepped to the railing and let her eyes follow the twisting trail to the top of the hill.

To her left and right was the roof itself, with Christian’s balcony rails visible beyond. She looked quickly in the other direction. She could see the corrals where the ledge, upon which most of the house was built, widened to accommodate them. Nearest the house was a square pen with a lone post of mysterious purpose in the middle. She could see part of the barn. Fascinated, she considered going down to explore but knew dinner would be served shortly.

Turning back into her room, she eyed the quiltcovered bed. She should lie down and rest before dinner as Hugh had suggested, but it didn’t sound attractive. Closing her eyes would bring forth images of her father dying, her lost home, her friend, Amanda, so far away. She felt a need to stay busy.

A china basin with matching pitcher sat on a shaving stand. Relieved to find the pitcher full, she quickly washed her face and fixed her hair.

Coming down the stairs was a marvelous experience. She could look down on the rustic living room or the simple dining room or out the tall glass door a few feet from the base of the stairs onto the valley below. The latter commanded most of Lynnette’s attention. She couldn’t resist stepping out on this center,
square balcony and looking across the valley again. She wasn’t sure if it was the colors, the feeling of flight, or the sheer openness that most attracted her. If she would be allowed to spend all summer on one of these balconies, she knew she would be happy here.

“It’s quite a view, isn’t it?” Hugh’s voice startled her, and she turned to find him on the corner balcony off the dining room.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“That’s precisely why I chose the back of the house for my study. I’d never get any work done as long as I could see this.”

“To me this seems like a lovely place to work. I can imagine bringing paper and ink here and writing to my heart’s content.”

Hugh laughed. “You might watch all your papers fly across the valley with a sudden gust of wind.”

Lynnette looked out, trying to picture it It was so lovely and peaceful. She shook her head. “I’d take my chances.”

“Be my guest I’ll have Jake move a desk out for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage something simple.” She heard footsteps in the dining room. Martha setting the table, she guessed. “I should leave you to your contemplation,” she said.

“Shirking,” he corrected. “Merely shirking, my dear.”

She smiled. “Whatever. I leave you to it.”

Lynnette closed the balcony doors behind her and moved toward the table. She returned Martha’s shy greeting. “May I help with dinner?” she asked.

“That’s not necessary, miss,” Martha said, unfolding a crisp white cloth on the long table.

Lynnette caught one corner of the cloth and helped her spread it evenly. “I’m not used to being waited on. I’d really like to help. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, but you’re supposed to be resting like Miss Emily.”

Lynnette followed Martha to a beautiful china cupboard. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she whispered.

Martha showed Lynnette where the dishes and silver were and which four places to set, then returned to the kitchen. In a few minutes, the table set, Lynnette followed. A man, several years older than Martha, was laying plates out on a long plank table. He worked effectively in spite of a crutch under one arm.

“You must be Perry,” she said.

“You must be Arlen’s Miss Sterling.”

Lynnette shook the callused hand he offered, pleased by the friendly greeting. Martha was at the stove and seemed surprised to see Lynnette actually in the kitchen. “What can I do now?” Lynnette asked her.

“There’s a bowl of wildflowers on the counter that can go on the table.” She nodded toward them.

Lynnette smiled, taking the hint. Martha was efficient and there were no jobs left this late in the preparations. She took up the bowl of flowers, sniffing their pungent odor. “It was nice meeting you,” she told Perry on her way past. He nodded in response.

The flowers on the table contrasted well with the fine bone china and crystal. Refined, yet simple. She cocked her head to one side, studying the table,
searching for better words to describe it. Comfortably elegant, she thought.

“Do you approve?”

Lynnette’s hand flew to her heart as she jumped. Christian stood at the base of the stairs, one hand on the banister. His hair was damp around his face. He looked comfortable enough to have stood there for several minutes.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, when she found her voice.

He smiled, but it wasn’t the unrestrained smile she had seen him give his sister. “That’s because I was here first.”

Lynnette laughed, hoping to break some of the tension that seemed to exist whenever he looked at her. “I was too intent on the flowers, I suppose.”

He nodded. “Is Emily down yet?”

She shook her head. “I could get her, if you’d like.”

“I’ll do it.” He turned and went up the stairs two at a time. Lynnette realized she watched him until his legs disappeared.

“Whom shall I annoy next?” she mumbled.

Not wanting to bother Hugh on the balcony and feeling unwanted in the kitchen, she moved into the living room. The room contained none of the decorative finery that cluttered Felicia’s home in Topeka. She had discovered a shelf of Indian artifacts when she heard Christian’s boots on the stairs.

“Is Emily ready?” she asked, turning to greet him.

“She’s fixing her hair.”

He walked into the room, studying her much as
though she were some strange artifact herself. She was relieved when Hugh, donning his suit coat, ambled into the room.

“Ah, you’ve found my treasures,” he said, moving to her side. “These were all found on our ranch at one time or another.” He pointed out several arrowheads, inviting her to hold them and examine them up close. There was also a piece of a clay pipe.

“This is my favorite.” He lifted a large stone ax head and handed it to her. Lynnette rubbed the cold smooth surface, surprised at how heavy it was. She set it carefully back in its place.

They heard a door upstairs open and close. “Well,” Hugh said, offering her his arm. “Bad enough to bore you with my hobbies without keeping you from dinner in the process.”

They met Emily at the bottom of the stairs, and Hugh directed everyone to their seats. Lynnette and Emily were on either side of Hugh at the head of the table, and Christian took the seat beside Emily.

Emily had changed out of her traveling clothes into a simple gown of pale green lawn. She looked refreshed and lovely with her hair piled on her head and tumbling down the back in natural curls.

It occurred to Lynnette that both Emily and Hugh had dressed for dinner. It was a custom she had forgotten since her father’s illness. She would have felt out of place in her traveling dress if it hadn’t been for Christian, at ease in his open shirt with the rolled-up sleeves.

Hugh asked a brief blessing and Martha, evidently
waiting for their arrival, entered, carrying a platter piled with thick steaming steaks.

“I told Martha Miss Sterling’s—Lynnette’s—first meal at the ranch had to be our own beef.” He took the platter from Martha who returned to the kitchen. He speared a huge slab of meat and held the platter for Lynnette. She was grateful that a few pieces were cut more to her appetite. She stabbed the juicy steak with her fork as he had done and put it on her plate.

Martha returned with potatoes and gravy and then with corn and bread, all of which she set near Hugh’s place. He served the women, then passed them to Christian. “Holler if you want more,” Christian said, taking up his knife and fork.

“When’s Arlen coming home?” Emily asked.

“Tomorrow, I believe,” her father said. “I’m sure he’ll return as soon as possible.” He gave Lynnette a warm smile.

Lynnette returned the smile shyly. She almost dreaded Arlen’s return. That was foolish; he was the reason she was here.

“I think we should have a party,” Emily suggested, evidently feeling her numerous hints had failed in their purpose.

“Did you and Arlen discuss any activities for the summer?”

It took Lynnette a moment to realize Hugh had spoken to her. “No. Nothing specific.” All eyes were on her, and she added, “I’ll be content to enjoy the country air. You needn’t make plans for me.”

Christian and Hugh went back to their steaks. Emily frowned, evidently hoping Lynnette’s plans would be
taken more seriously than her own. Lynnette cast the girl an apologetic look.

Emily’s frown didn’t last. She soon launched into a story of one of her classmates’ extracurricular activities, keeping the men entertained and Lynnette free to enjoy the dinner.

Occasionally Lynnette cast furtive glances at Christian. He was an extremely handsome man. In town, a man with his looks would be out to charm all the ladies. Perhaps Christian was like that in other settings; he didn’t flirt with her because of her relationship with his brother.

The disappointment she felt was most inappropriate! She turned her attention to Emily’s story, looking for an opportunity to join the conversation. Emily left her none. Besides, the girl’s story was hard to follow since she knew none of the principals. Her next glance at Christian revealed him watching her. She met his gaze.
Let him turn away
, she thought.

Instead he let the hint of a smile touch his lips. Deliberately, he placed an elbow on the table, planted his chin on his fist and turned toward his sister, pretending to hang on her every word.

Emily’s voice faltered. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She glanced at him, did a double take and slapped at his arm, slowing, but not stopping, her story.

Christian’s laughter finally silenced her. She turned to scowl at him. “Eat, little sister,” he said. “I want dessert.”

“I’m done,” Emily said. Whether she referred to her dinner or her story wasn’t clear to Lynnette.

Christian rose from the table and headed for the kitchen. Emily scowled after him. “At home we ring a bell so the servants serve dessert,” she said.

“Martha and her family are having their own dinner,” Hugh said quietly. “It doesn’t hurt us to wait on ourselves.”

Emily looked unconvinced but didn’t argue. She quickly thought of another story to share with her father and was well into it when Christian returned. He carried a tray of soup bowls heaped with ice cream.

Lynnette laughed when he traded one for her plate. “If all meals are like this, I’ll be fat long before summer’s over.”

“Perry cranked all afternoon,” Christian said. “We can’t hurt his feelings.”

“Where did he get the ice?”

“From the icehouse,” Emily offered, digging in without concern for the rarity of the treat.

“We cut ice from the streams in winter,” Hugh explained. After a moment he broke the silence left by Emily’s preoccupation with the dessert. “Christian, did you know our guest here wants to take over one of the balconies so she can write?”