freely down her back. Her eyes were opened widely, full of emotion, full of anxiety.
"Why is she coming, Robin? Who asked Deborah to come?"
Robin tried to calm the unhappy teenager down. "It's all right. Sara. Please don't be upset. I have no idea who invited Deborah, or what reason she has for coming. The fact is, I know very little about her. But there's no use in—"
"She's a horrible woman, Robin. I don't know how my mother ever became friends with her. There's a kind of evil around her, a meanness. But they had known each other for years. But then, after the accident—" She choked on the word. "After the accident, she stayed on and made everyone miserable. She was so obviously trying to get her hooks into Father, it was disgusting."
"You were very little at the time. Sara. That was an emotional time. Your imagination may well have been working overtime."
"No chance, Robin. It was very clear, even to Jacob and me, what her intent was. I was sure Dad saw through her. I was sure. But now she's coming back. Why? Did he ask her to come? Oh, I could scream."
"Well, at least spare us the scream, Sara, until you know all the details. No need getting yourself worked up over something that may well be nothing."
Sara lowered her eyes. "I'll try, Robin, but I can feel it in my bones that something awful is going to happen. She was here when Mother died, you know, and so were Herman and Lisa. Now it seems like the whole thing was only yesterday, instead of five years ago."
Robin put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Sara. This whole thing is very hard on you."
"And hard on Father." It was the first time Robin had heard Sara speak sympathetically about her father. "On the outside she's beautiful, Robin, like a perfect jewel. And Father's been alone so long..."
When Sara left to dress for the day, her words stayed behind. Cookie was very, very right. The scene was set—the tension had begun. It did seem like a fuse had been lit on Ridley Ranch, and the explosion could be closer than they'd ever expected.
Despite her pot banging and general condition of upset, the meal that cook delivered to the table that night was a delicious one. The group was all in attendance: the children, Alex, Lisa, and Herman. Robin found her eyes roving constantly from the well-filled plate before her to her dinner companions, trying, as she seemed to find herself doing so often these days, to read their minds and moods and motives.
That the people present were preoccupied and tense was an obvious fact. But Robin could find no answers in their faces.
Just who was this much-remembered Deborah? And why was she suddenly appearing on the scene? Had she, as Sara voiced in fear, been sent for by Alex? Robin's stomach churned at the thought. Things had been calm, happier at the ranch since her own arrival, cook had said. Alex had been relaxed. Could he, as she so fervently hoped, have been reacting positively to Robin's presence?
Her throat was tight. And had he, upon realizing the deceit she had agreed to in order to gain a position on the ranch, have been disillusioned about her, changing his mind, suffocating what could have been the seeds of caring? And now Deborah was scheduled to arrive. Invited or uninvited. Robin had to admit to herself that she would not have blamed Alex if he had chosen such a route—Deborah. The name buzzed in her head. She was extremely relieved when the dishes were lifted from the table and she could graciously make an escape from the dining room.
She slipped out the front door of the ranch house, sucking in the first cooler breaths of evening air as the scorching sun dipped into the horizon, throwing its gorgeous glaze of red and orange across the Montana sky and the open plains.
She rounded the corner of the house, her eyes taking in the breathtaking view that she had come to appreciate. The silhouettes of the bunkhouses and barns loomed in the distance, dark shapes etched amidst the glowing early-evening sky.
"Why is she coming, Robin? Who asked Deborah to come?"
Robin tried to calm the unhappy teenager down. "It's all right. Sara. Please don't be upset. I have no idea who invited Deborah, or what reason she has for coming. The fact is, I know very little about her. But there's no use in—"
"She's a horrible woman, Robin. I don't know how my mother ever became friends with her. There's a kind of evil around her, a meanness. But they had known each other for years. But then, after the accident—" She choked on the word. "After the accident, she stayed on and made everyone miserable. She was so obviously trying to get her hooks into Father, it was disgusting."
"You were very little at the time. Sara. That was an emotional time. Your imagination may well have been working overtime."
"No chance, Robin. It was very clear, even to Jacob and me, what her intent was. I was sure Dad saw through her. I was sure. But now she's coming back. Why? Did he ask her to come? Oh, I could scream."
"Well, at least spare us the scream, Sara, until you know all the details. No need getting yourself worked up over something that may well be nothing."
Sara lowered her eyes. "I'll try, Robin, but I can feel it in my bones that something awful is going to happen. She was here when Mother died, you know, and so were Herman and Lisa. Now it seems like the whole thing was only yesterday, instead of five years ago."
Robin put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Sara. This whole thing is very hard on you."
"And hard on Father." It was the first time Robin had heard Sara speak sympathetically about her father. "On the outside she's beautiful, Robin, like a perfect jewel. And Father's been alone so long..."
When Sara left to dress for the day, her words stayed behind. Cookie was very, very right. The scene was set—the tension had begun. It did seem like a fuse had been lit on Ridley Ranch, and the explosion could be closer than they'd ever expected.
Despite her pot banging and general condition of upset, the meal that cook delivered to the table that night was a delicious one. The group was all in attendance: the children, Alex, Lisa, and Herman. Robin found her eyes roving constantly from the well-filled plate before her to her dinner companions, trying, as she seemed to find herself doing so often these days, to read their minds and moods and motives.
That the people present were preoccupied and tense was an obvious fact. But Robin could find no answers in their faces.
Just who was this much-remembered Deborah? And why was she suddenly appearing on the scene? Had she, as Sara voiced in fear, been sent for by Alex? Robin's stomach churned at the thought. Things had been calm, happier at the ranch since her own arrival, cook had said. Alex had been relaxed. Could he, as she so fervently hoped, have been reacting positively to Robin's presence?
Her throat was tight. And had he, upon realizing the deceit she had agreed to in order to gain a position on the ranch, have been disillusioned about her, changing his mind, suffocating what could have been the seeds of caring? And now Deborah was scheduled to arrive. Invited or uninvited. Robin had to admit to herself that she would not have blamed Alex if he had chosen such a route—Deborah. The name buzzed in her head. She was extremely relieved when the dishes were lifted from the table and she could graciously make an escape from the dining room.
She slipped out the front door of the ranch house, sucking in the first cooler breaths of evening air as the scorching sun dipped into the horizon, throwing its gorgeous glaze of red and orange across the Montana sky and the open plains.
She rounded the corner of the house, her eyes taking in the breathtaking view that she had come to appreciate. The silhouettes of the bunkhouses and barns loomed in the distance, dark shapes etched amidst the glowing early-evening sky.
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