people who care about you. Go upstairs to your room and think about that for a while.”
“My room will be freezing!”
“You’ve got plenty of blankets. You’ll be warm enough in bed. If you leave the door open, you might even get a little heat from downstairs. Go on. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“It’s dark on the stairs!”
“You’ll get enough light from the kitchen to find your way. And the snow will reflect some light through the bedroom window. You’ll be fine, Amy.”
“It’s not fair!” Amy flung back the words as she dashed upstairs.
In the silence that followed, Shane told himself he was well out of this drama. But then, in the firelight, he glimpsed Kylie’s stricken face. She hadn’t asked for any of this, he reminded himself. Fate had dealt her and her children a brutal blow. She was doing her best to help her family survive. It had to be tough.
In school he’d admired Kylie Summerfield for her beauty and intelligence. Now he’d discovered one more quality to admire—her courage. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his distance. Come spring, with luck, he’d have a buyer for the ranch and could start planning the rest of his life—the life of freedom and adventure he’d always dreamed of.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Muriel.” Kylie fought back tears of frustration. “You’ve done so much for us. Amy should know better than to talk to you like that.”
Muriel’s knitting had fallen to her lap. She waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it, dear. She’s young, she’s been through a lot, and this old place isn’t much like home. But she’ll settle in. Just give her time.”
“It’s hard to see her hurting—but that’s no excuse for hurting other people, especially you, when you’ve literally saved our lives.” She glanced at her son, who was still texting. “That goes for you, too, Hunter. Tomorrow morning you’re both getting a lesson in manners.”
“Huh?” Hunter glanced up, then shrugged. “Whatever.”
Muriel laid her knitting on the arm of the rocker and pushed herself to her feet. “Well, if you youngsters will excuse me, it’s been a long day, and there’s only so much I can get done in the dark. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Will you be all right in the dark? I can walk you to your room,” Shane offered.
“Thanks, Cowboy, but I’ve spent seventy-five years in this house and I know my way around. When I get old enough to need your help, I’ll let you know.” Carrying one of the candles, she tottered down the hallway toward her bedroom.
“Well, there’s nothing to do down here except be bored,” Hunter said. “I might as well go, too.”
“Go on, then. Tomorrow will be better. You’ll see.”
“That’s what you always say. And it’s never true, so you might as well stop lying about it.” Hunter scuffed his way toward the stairs, dragging his feet.
Torn, Kylie gazed after him. She’d just sent both her children to bed angry tonight. After all they’d been through, how could she blame them for feeling the way they did?
She stood. “I hope you won’t mind,” she apologized to Shane. “I think I’d better go upstairs and do some peacemaking.”
“Go ahead. If you decide to come back down, you’ll find me right here by the fire.”
Kylie picked up the Mason jar that held the candle and trudged up the stairs. Moving to Texas had been their only option after losing the house; and Muriel had been wonderfully welcoming. But how could she justify staying here when her children were so miserable?
What would she do if things didn’t get better for them?
On the landing, the sound of blowing wind and snow pelting the roof was even louder. The candle flame cast dancing shadows on the wall as she moved down the hall. Hunter wouldn’t be afraid, or at least he wouldn’t show it. But Amy might be terrified.
The door to Amy’s room stood open. Kylie stepped inside. Snowflakes spattered the panes of the
“My room will be freezing!”
“You’ve got plenty of blankets. You’ll be warm enough in bed. If you leave the door open, you might even get a little heat from downstairs. Go on. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“It’s dark on the stairs!”
“You’ll get enough light from the kitchen to find your way. And the snow will reflect some light through the bedroom window. You’ll be fine, Amy.”
“It’s not fair!” Amy flung back the words as she dashed upstairs.
In the silence that followed, Shane told himself he was well out of this drama. But then, in the firelight, he glimpsed Kylie’s stricken face. She hadn’t asked for any of this, he reminded himself. Fate had dealt her and her children a brutal blow. She was doing her best to help her family survive. It had to be tough.
In school he’d admired Kylie Summerfield for her beauty and intelligence. Now he’d discovered one more quality to admire—her courage. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his distance. Come spring, with luck, he’d have a buyer for the ranch and could start planning the rest of his life—the life of freedom and adventure he’d always dreamed of.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Muriel.” Kylie fought back tears of frustration. “You’ve done so much for us. Amy should know better than to talk to you like that.”
Muriel’s knitting had fallen to her lap. She waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it, dear. She’s young, she’s been through a lot, and this old place isn’t much like home. But she’ll settle in. Just give her time.”
“It’s hard to see her hurting—but that’s no excuse for hurting other people, especially you, when you’ve literally saved our lives.” She glanced at her son, who was still texting. “That goes for you, too, Hunter. Tomorrow morning you’re both getting a lesson in manners.”
“Huh?” Hunter glanced up, then shrugged. “Whatever.”
Muriel laid her knitting on the arm of the rocker and pushed herself to her feet. “Well, if you youngsters will excuse me, it’s been a long day, and there’s only so much I can get done in the dark. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Will you be all right in the dark? I can walk you to your room,” Shane offered.
“Thanks, Cowboy, but I’ve spent seventy-five years in this house and I know my way around. When I get old enough to need your help, I’ll let you know.” Carrying one of the candles, she tottered down the hallway toward her bedroom.
“Well, there’s nothing to do down here except be bored,” Hunter said. “I might as well go, too.”
“Go on, then. Tomorrow will be better. You’ll see.”
“That’s what you always say. And it’s never true, so you might as well stop lying about it.” Hunter scuffed his way toward the stairs, dragging his feet.
Torn, Kylie gazed after him. She’d just sent both her children to bed angry tonight. After all they’d been through, how could she blame them for feeling the way they did?
She stood. “I hope you won’t mind,” she apologized to Shane. “I think I’d better go upstairs and do some peacemaking.”
“Go ahead. If you decide to come back down, you’ll find me right here by the fire.”
Kylie picked up the Mason jar that held the candle and trudged up the stairs. Moving to Texas had been their only option after losing the house; and Muriel had been wonderfully welcoming. But how could she justify staying here when her children were so miserable?
What would she do if things didn’t get better for them?
On the landing, the sound of blowing wind and snow pelting the roof was even louder. The candle flame cast dancing shadows on the wall as she moved down the hall. Hunter wouldn’t be afraid, or at least he wouldn’t show it. But Amy might be terrified.
The door to Amy’s room stood open. Kylie stepped inside. Snowflakes spattered the panes of the
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