Winifred sighed and went to a cupboard across the room. She opened a drawer and came back to Dan with some limp bills in her hands.
“Put this where Lucia will find it,” Winifred said. “Those no-good brothers of hers never leave any cash in the house.”
QUINTRELL RANCH
MONDAY NIGHT
13
THE KITCHEN DOOR SHUT BEHIND CARLY , LEAVING HER LITERALLY OUT IN THE COLD . She shivered and clutched her computer closer as the night air bit through her thin clothes. Stars glittered thickly overhead.
“Is Lucia a Sandoval by birth or marriage?” Carly asked.
“Both. Third cousins, I think.” He saw another shiver take Carly. Now that the storm had passed, it was much colder. “This is stupid,” he said. “You don’t have to come along with me. Winifred won’t know. She just wanted a way to get rid of you without admitting how worn out she is.”
“And you’ll take any excuse handy to do the same,” Carly said. “You lose. I’m coming. A family that’s been living side by side with the Quintrells and Castillos for the last few hundred years, and marrying back and forth, is just what I need. Despite Winifred’s bias, men and their personal histories are necessary to a family narration.”
“Don’t tell her that.”
“Do I look stupid?” Then Carly thought of her wild curls and bare feet shoved into tennis shoes while she froze solid in the icy wind. “Never mind. I’m not. Besides, every time I bring up the necessity of men, she changes the subject.”
Her teeth chattered.
“You wore sensible clothes to the funeral,” Dan said impatiently. “Where are they?”
“In my room, and how do you know what I wore to the funeral?”
“Are you staying in the old house?”
“Y-yes.”
He took her arm in a grip that was more impatient than polite. “Hurry up. You’re freezing.”
She didn’t argue or try to pull away. The difference between the hothouse temperature of Sylvia’s room and the frigid night was making Carly light-headed.
When they came to the big double doors of the old house, she took out the skeleton key. Her hand was shaking so much that Dan grabbed the key, stuck it in, and said, “It’s unlocked.”
“I locked it.”
He didn’t argue. He just shoved the key back into her hand, opened the door, and pushed her through to warmth. Without pausing he closed the door and automatically gave it just enough push so that the ancient lock mechanism settled into place.
“Do you live here?” Carly asked.
“No.”
“Then how did you know the door is sticky?”
“Lucky guess.”
Carly didn’t believe it and was certain he wasn’t going to talk about it. “You know,” she said reasonably, “the more you don’t answer questions, the more curious I get.”
“The more questions I answer, the more you ask.” He started down the hall toward the big guest room.
“Wrong way,” she said. “I’m across the courtyard to the right.”
His left eyebrow shot up. He wondered who had assigned Carly to what had once been the lowest housemaid’s quarters.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Dan realized that his breath was visible even in the entry hall. It was warmer than the outside, but hardly comfortable. “Somebody forgot to turn up the heat.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.” Carly pulled a key out of her back pocket and unlocked the door leading to the courtyard. “My room never was modernized.”
“Meaning?”
“No connection to central heating. I use the corner fireplace to warm up.” She turned the handle and leaned in. The door didn’t open.
“Why did you lock it?” Dan asked.
“I didn’t. I unlocked it.” She frowned and turned the key the opposite way. The door opened. “At least I thought I did.”
Dan looked at the deserted courtyard. Several sets of tracks crisscrossed the snow. Fresh tracks. He stopped being irritated at himself for being attracted to Carly and started thinking. Fast.
“Did you come back here after it stopped snowing?” he
“Put this where Lucia will find it,” Winifred said. “Those no-good brothers of hers never leave any cash in the house.”
QUINTRELL RANCH
MONDAY NIGHT
13
THE KITCHEN DOOR SHUT BEHIND CARLY , LEAVING HER LITERALLY OUT IN THE COLD . She shivered and clutched her computer closer as the night air bit through her thin clothes. Stars glittered thickly overhead.
“Is Lucia a Sandoval by birth or marriage?” Carly asked.
“Both. Third cousins, I think.” He saw another shiver take Carly. Now that the storm had passed, it was much colder. “This is stupid,” he said. “You don’t have to come along with me. Winifred won’t know. She just wanted a way to get rid of you without admitting how worn out she is.”
“And you’ll take any excuse handy to do the same,” Carly said. “You lose. I’m coming. A family that’s been living side by side with the Quintrells and Castillos for the last few hundred years, and marrying back and forth, is just what I need. Despite Winifred’s bias, men and their personal histories are necessary to a family narration.”
“Don’t tell her that.”
“Do I look stupid?” Then Carly thought of her wild curls and bare feet shoved into tennis shoes while she froze solid in the icy wind. “Never mind. I’m not. Besides, every time I bring up the necessity of men, she changes the subject.”
Her teeth chattered.
“You wore sensible clothes to the funeral,” Dan said impatiently. “Where are they?”
“In my room, and how do you know what I wore to the funeral?”
“Are you staying in the old house?”
“Y-yes.”
He took her arm in a grip that was more impatient than polite. “Hurry up. You’re freezing.”
She didn’t argue or try to pull away. The difference between the hothouse temperature of Sylvia’s room and the frigid night was making Carly light-headed.
When they came to the big double doors of the old house, she took out the skeleton key. Her hand was shaking so much that Dan grabbed the key, stuck it in, and said, “It’s unlocked.”
“I locked it.”
He didn’t argue. He just shoved the key back into her hand, opened the door, and pushed her through to warmth. Without pausing he closed the door and automatically gave it just enough push so that the ancient lock mechanism settled into place.
“Do you live here?” Carly asked.
“No.”
“Then how did you know the door is sticky?”
“Lucky guess.”
Carly didn’t believe it and was certain he wasn’t going to talk about it. “You know,” she said reasonably, “the more you don’t answer questions, the more curious I get.”
“The more questions I answer, the more you ask.” He started down the hall toward the big guest room.
“Wrong way,” she said. “I’m across the courtyard to the right.”
His left eyebrow shot up. He wondered who had assigned Carly to what had once been the lowest housemaid’s quarters.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Dan realized that his breath was visible even in the entry hall. It was warmer than the outside, but hardly comfortable. “Somebody forgot to turn up the heat.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.” Carly pulled a key out of her back pocket and unlocked the door leading to the courtyard. “My room never was modernized.”
“Meaning?”
“No connection to central heating. I use the corner fireplace to warm up.” She turned the handle and leaned in. The door didn’t open.
“Why did you lock it?” Dan asked.
“I didn’t. I unlocked it.” She frowned and turned the key the opposite way. The door opened. “At least I thought I did.”
Dan looked at the deserted courtyard. Several sets of tracks crisscrossed the snow. Fresh tracks. He stopped being irritated at himself for being attracted to Carly and started thinking. Fast.
“Did you come back here after it stopped snowing?” he
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