“THIS IS YOUR ROOM,” Rosa May said, stepping back as she pointed inside the third room on the left.
Claudia poked her head in first. Then she pulled it back. “Sweetie, you must be mistaken. This must be some kind of upstairs living room.”
Rosa May shook her head. “No, this is the right room. Dad said to give you the third bedroom on the left. His is the first. Mine is the second. This is the third. The one across the hall used to be my mom’s sewing room.”
Arching her brow, Claudia wondered. “Honey, where is your ma?” And why on earth had she ever agreed to let a strange woman into her home? Claudia was going to have to inform her that when one was married to a man who looked like her husband, it was best not to let other women invade her turf. Not that she was tempted by those broad shoulders or that massive chest. Naaah.
“My mom is dead. She died three years ago.”
Immediately, Claudia fell to her knees and wrapped the girl in a big bear hug. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she wailed.
Rosa May shrugged out of her embrace, her face beet red. “I’m okay. It has been three years.”
Claudia stared owlishly at the girl. She seemed so calm, so in control. “Honey, I lost my mother thirteen years ago, and I’m still not okay. Fathers are important, but nobody can replace a mother.”
Rosa May nodded in understanding.
“I mean, who’s going to paint your nails for the first time? Who’s going to yell at you when you shave your legs too young? Who’s going to tell you when you start to put on weight and remind you that you probably don’t need that third slice of pizza? Who’s going to go to the store with you for the first time when you need to buy feminine…oh never mind.”
“My dad, I guess.”
“Trust me on this, sweetheart, fathers are good for a lot of things. Intimidating boyfriends you want to scare off, paying for prom gowns, calling you princess. However, painting your fingernails is not one of them.”
Rosa May chuckled.
Happy to make the girl smile, especially when she had inadvertently reminded her of such sadness, Claudia poked her head in the room again. “You are sure this is my room?”
Rosa May nodded.
“Oooh, honey, I am in the Presidential Suite. A room this big in Brooklyn could house a ma, a pop, five kids and a grandma.” Claudia moved forward into the spacious room. There was a huge queen-size bed that jutted out from the wall. Next to it was a bed stand with a small clock and a lamp with a delicate handmade shade on top of it. There was a dresser located on the opposite wall. Walking to it each morning, Claudia mused, would provide her with all the exercise she needed in a day. In the corner adjacent to the dresser was an old-fashioned rocking chair complete with a quilt.
The chair called to Claudia. “I bet your mother used to rock you in that chair when you were a baby. She wouldn’t want to wake your pop, so she brought you to this room and she snuggled into that quilt with you in her arms, just the two of you, and sang to you until you fell asleep.”
Rosa May walked over and petted the quilt reverently. “The blanket was my mom’s. When it’s cold I sleep with it. It still smells like her.”
Claudia reached deep into the crevice between her breasts and removed a locket. “This was my ma’s.” She popped it open and showed Rosa May the tiny picture inicture i inicture inic quilt.
The chair called to Claudia. “I bet your mother used to rock you in that chair when you were a baby. She wouldn’t want to wake your pop, so she brought you to this room and she snuggled into that quilt with you in her arms, just the two of you, and sang to you until you fell asleep.”
Rosa May walked over and petted the quilt reverently. “The blanket was my mom’s. When it’s cold I sleep with it. It still smells like her.”
Claudia reached deep into the crevice between her breasts and removed a locket. “This was my ma’s.” She popped it open and showed Rosa May the tiny picture inicture inicture inicicture inicture inpicture inside.
“She was so beautiful,” Rosa May whispered.
“She was a looker,” Claudia admitted proudly. “My pop told me that the angels smiled on him twice in his life. First, the day they made my ma in heaven. Second, the day they introduced her to him.”
“Do you really still miss her?” Rosa May asked.
“Yeah. I’ll always miss her. But I have her locket. And I have memories. So in a way she’s never really left me.”
Rosa May hesitated, shuffled her feet, and pinned her eyes to her shoelaces. “I still miss my mom. I just don’t like to admit it, you know. I don’t want my dad to think I’m sad all the time.”
Claudia knelt before her new young friend. “Your daddy is a big boy. A very big boy! He’ll understand if sometimes you’re sad. Sometimes, I bet, he’s sad, too. Those are the times you talk about your ma. You bring the memories back. You bring her back.”
“I’m not sure who you are, or why you’re here, but I’m glad you came. Can I call you Claudia?”
“Sure.” She ruffled the girl’s bangs then smoothed them back into place. They were a little fuller now and highlighted the nice arch in her brow. With a little spritz of hair spray, she’d be good to go all day.
“Come here, Rosie,” Claudia motioned for the girl to follow her to the bed. Removing the large bag from her shoulder, she undid the zipper and tilted the bag upside down, dropping its precious contents onto the bedspread.
Rosa May’s mouth gaped as lipsticks, hairbrushes, manicure sets, eye pluckers, cuticle scissors and some toothbrushlike item with a comb on one side, came tumbling out of her purse. She wasn’t halfway done, either.
More lipsticks, eyeliner pencils, tiny brushes of various thickness. A real toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a packet of floss. The contents were never-ending.
“Hey, cool. Like Mary Poppins,” Rosa May said.
Claudia ignored the reference, too intent in her search. When the bag had given up all of its contents, Claudia shook the bag and muttered to it that it was holding out on her. Finally, she reached her arm deep into the sack, and after a moment of battle, the bag relinquished one small spritz bottle.
Turning to Rosa May, she lifted the girl’s chin with her finger, then covered the girl’s eyes with her free hand. “Close your eyes, Rosie,” Claudia instructed.
Rosa May obeyed without question. A light sprinkling of water hit her forehead, then Claudia teased and tweaked her bangs.
“Perfect,” she announced.
Rosa May lifted her eyes high into her head to see the effect, but her bangs were too high for her to spot. Fortunately, a compact mirror was among one of the discarded items that had fallen onto the bed. Claudia watched as Rosa May smiled at her reflection. Her hair was still honey wheat, it was still tied in a braid in the back, but now the bangs were voluminous and mature, where only a minute ago they had been flat and childish.
“Thanks,” Rosa May offered. “Dad doesn’t let me buy…well, he doesn’t think I need, you know, beauty supplies. Hair spray and all that other stuff.”
“No hair spray! Ahhh! What kind of monster is he?”
Rosa May just laughed and so did Claudia.
Then she set about returning the discarded contents back to her bag. In explanation of her outburst, Claudia told the girl, “I used to do hair back in the days before I concentrated on nails, so this sort of thing comes naturally to me. I used to fill in for Suzie DeMarco in the hair salon because she was always pregnant and needed to stay off her feet. Only between you, me and the walls, I think she was just fat. I mean who stays pregnant for eleven months straight?”
“I don’t know,” Rosie shrugged.
“Anyway, I’m out of the hair business for good. It’s too limited. I’m mean how many ‘updos’ can one girl design? There are only so many ways you can wrap hair around a woman’s head. Now it’s just nails. Only not just colored nails. I’m talking nail art.”
“So you work in a salon.”
“Not work in, baby, I’m the owner. At least that’s what I was in New York. Out here in Wisconsin I don’t know what I am.” The impact of her own words hit her. She’d struggled so long to make her salon a legitimate business, a place where the wealthy would come to have her unique designs painted on to their nails. Without her and her talent there, it was just another one of the masses. She trusted Francesca, the other girl who did manicures with her, to keep the place going, but how long would it take before people began to seek out someone new?
“So what are you doing here?” Rosa May wondered. “Not that I’m complaining. So far you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t know that many people yet, but I bet even if I meet a hundred people, none of them are going to be as neat as you.”
Neat. Was that still a word? Apparently it was in Sun Prairie. What to tell the kid? No doubt Ted…Ross wanted to keep her shielded from the ugly side of life. It was why he’d left the Bureau, at least that was what MacCurdy told her. He couldn’t be a farmer, a proper husband and father if he was always surrounding himself with the wrong element. Whatever the heck that meant.
The way Claudia saw it, protecting a kid from the “wrong element” was impossible. There were too many threats, too many obstacles, too many bad people out there to shelter a kid forever. The best thing a parent could do was to be on the level and teach a kid that just because bad people were out there, it didn’t mean that they were always out there to get you. Necessarily. She would also teach her kid never to mess with mob business. It was a lesson she’d been taught early on, but must have forgotten somewhere along the road.
“I’m here because I’m trying to help the police. And they’re trying to help me by hiding me.” Simple and to the point.
“Oh,” Rosa May breathed. “You’re hiding out. Like in the Witness Protection Program? Who are you hiding from? The mob, I bet. I saw this episode of NYPD Blue and this guy was ratting on this hit man and he had to go into the Witness Protection Program. Only the bad guy found him and popped him between the eyes.”
“Not an encouraging story, honey. Remind me to tell your father that you shouldn’t be watching that show. I already know one person that it’s corrupted.”
“I didn’t know she was watching it.”
The voice was as large as the man. Low, rough, with a slow drawl to it that wasn’t Southern, but was distinctly country.
“Dad it was just that one time. You fell asleep in the chair remember, and I didn’t want to turn off the TV because I was afraid I would wake you,” Rosa May offered sincerely, her eyes as innocent as an angel.
Claudia began to applaud. “Wooh! That excuse ranks a nine-oh out of a possible ten. You absolutely reeked of sincerity. If only I were young again and could use that excuse. That was priceless, honey.”
Unabashedly, Rosa May bowed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you very much.”
“Please don’t encourage her,” Ross warned. “I’m already afraid she’s planning to run away to Hollywood. I don’t need anyone giving her rave reviews.”
Ross smiled down at his still beaming daughter and tried to tousle her bangs. Only his fingers came back sticky with hairspray. “What in the heck…”
“A little poof, you know, for support,” Claudia explained as if a “little poof” made all the sense in the world to Ross.
“Yeah, Pop, just a little poof,” Rosa May repeated brashly. A stern glance from her father, however, silenced her.
There was love there, Claudia thought. The girl for the father, the father for the girl. It reminded her of the relationship she had had with her own pop and she couldn’t help but feel wistful. Boy, she missed him. Almost as much as she missed her ma. For a moment, she tried hard to imagine her almost-boyfriend Marco smiling down at their daughter like that. The image never came.
“I brought your luggage upstairs. And the trunk. It’s out in the hall.” Because I couldn’t carry it any farther, Ross finished silently. “What do you have in that trunk?”
“Supplies,” she stated, “I never travel without them. Thanks. Can you believe I had to make do with only four bags? I mean jeez, do the Feds expect me to wear the same outfit every day or what? I’m barely squeaking by with what I brought. But you know how it is when you’re on the run. You gotta travel light.”
Light? This wasn’t going to work. Ross knew it was a recurring thought, but he couldn’t seem to shake it. How could they possibly survive living together when she was the antithesis of his wife in every way imaginable? Susan knew how to pack conservatively, dress conservatively and speak conservatively. Ross wondered if this woman knew what the word conservative meant.
Not that he was thinking of her as anything other than a guest, but just in case he became a bit tempted by her tiny frame and her pretty face, he made a mental note to quash it. This woman was not for him. That issue settled, Ross knew it was time to get down to business.
“I’m sure you are exhausted after your trip and your uh…adventures.” No need to mention that she’d been shot at, or Rosa May would have her up on a pedestal before he could blink. “Why don’t you take some time to settle in? When you’re ready we’ll discuss what your responsibilities are going to be during your stay.”
“Responsibilities?” Claudia repeated, confused by what he meant. The way she saw it, her only responsibility was to stay alive to make it back to her shop.
“This is a farm. Everyone who lives on the farm must contribute to it. That includes you, Miss Brooklyn.”
Smiling facetiously, Claudia retorted, “You got the wrong girl. Miss Brooklyn was Marie Verdino. She had big you-know-whats, and hair as high as the ceiling, but she came in a disappointing fourth at the Miss New York Pageant.”
He didn’t even crack a grin.
“What are you-know-whats, Dad?” Rosa May wondered.
Not even then.
But Claudia laughed freely. She never felt a need to stop laughter. Who would? “In a year or two…How old are you again, honey?”
“Practically twelve.”
“Eleven,” her father answered simultaneously.
“Yep, two more years, and it will all start to make sense.”
Ross actually groaned.
Claudia chuckled, pleased to see that he wasn’t all bark, bite and brawn. This was going to work just fine. “Now, I believe somebody said something about settling in.”
“See you later,” Rosa May said, skipping out the door as if it was an everyday occurrence to have strangers from Brooklyn take shelter in her home.
Ross watched his daughter leave, amazed at her ability to adapt to the situation. “She likes you,” he said grimly.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Claudia retorted. “Many people like me. I’m a likable person. Besides, she’s practically a teenager. It appears to me that she is the only girl on this farm. It also appears to me that this farm is the only place for miles and miles around. She probably needs a little feminine companionship.”
“I agree.”
There was a “but” in there somewhere. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where it was. “But you wish that companionship wasn’t a girl from Brooklyn on the lam.”
“Yes,” he answered. He wasn’t sure which part bothered him more, though—that she was from Brooklyn and looked it. Or that she could possibly bring danger into his daughter’s life.
Claudia felt a stab of disappointment that she couldn’t define. Maybe it was because she really liked the kid. Maybe it was because she had already somewhat gotten used to the smell. Or maybe it was because there was something in the stalwart way he stood that seemed to beckon her closer. Like a haven in a storm. Regardless, her next offer was a sincere one. “I could go. MacCurdy doesn’t think there will be any more attempts. And I’ve got a life waiting for me back in Brooklyn. You didn’t ask for this. You more or less got stuck with me.”
More than less. And it seemed she was offering him a way out. Ross couldn’t have refused a request from his former employer, even if that relationship was many years old. Frank had saved his life. That debt was unpayable. But she was offering to leave. He certainly couldn’t be responsible for the decision a grown woman made.…
Stop it, Ross told himself. She was in trouble and she wasn’t going anywhere. The mob had made two attempts. If she returned to New York, she’d be nothing more than a sitting duck. Chivalry wasn’t completely dead. Besides, he didn’t have the energy to carry her luggage back downstairs. “You’re in trouble. Whether you realize it or not. You’ll be safe here, so you stay here. You should get settled in. We’ll talk later.”
A grin spread across her face. While he crossed his arms over his fabulous chest like a king who’d just made a formal proclamation, Claudia realized that everything he said was in the fashion of an order. She thought it best to clarify her position on taking orders. But the truth was she was tired, and she had the feeling that particular conversation was going to require a great deal of energy. After all, nobody told her what to do.
“See ya,” Claudia said.
Ross nodded and turned to leave. Oddly, he felt the strangest sensation that her eyes were pinned to his butt. So much so he was tempted to cover the body part with his hands. Then he realized he was being ridiculous. Of course she wasn’t staring at his backside.
Mamma! What a butt. Tight, hard and packaged in the softest blue jeans imaginable. Her lips were pursed in the ready stages of a wolf whistle, but Claudia managed to contain herself until he was gone. Then she allowed herself a little relief. “Wheew. I didn’t know what I was missing in the city all those years.”
She took a deep breath, then paused.
“Well, I sure as heck wasn’t missing that smell. A back alley on garbage day doesn’t even come close. You’re talking to yourself, Claude. Not a wise move. He might overhear. He’ll think you’re crazy, and that is not how you want this relationship to start out. Not that this is a relationship.”
That said, aloud, she collected the rest of her belongings off the bed and returned them to the fifth dimension found deep in the recesses of her bag. Not ready to face the trials of unpacking, Claudia opted for a nap. She removed her coat, hopped up onto the bed and wrapped herself in an afghan she was sure someone’s grandmother had made. In minutes she felt herself drifting off to sleep and her last conscious thought was that for the first time in weeks she felt no fear. None.
SETTLING IN over the next couple of days was easier said than done. Crucial issues needed to be addressed. First, she needed a larger mirror in her bedroom. The only mirror in the whole house as far as she could tell was in the bathroom. And even that was only eleven-by-sixteen inches. What happened when Ross and Rosie needed to match their shoes to the rest of their outfit? She wouldn’t comment, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they often left the house clashing. Claudia had to resort to sitting on the sink while she lifted her leg high enough into the air to get her pants, blouse and shoes all in the same reflection.
The kid had caught her in that position. It wasn’t one of her finest moments.
Second, after unpacking all her bags, she realized she was woefully short on closet space. All her clothes were forced to touch all of her other clothes. Wrinkle city! When she asked the muscle man if she could have an additional closet for her belongings, he snarled at her. When she asked for an iron and ironing board, she was directed to the pantry closest.
And finally, there simply wasn’t enough light in her bedroom to accommodate her work. Nail art didn’t just happen. Each of her designs were first drawn then practiced on fake enamel nails. Her trunk held a one-piece bench that once unfolded stood at just the right height for her to work without leaning over too far. It also carried a clip device that held the fake nails at the same height and in the same position as a normal hand would be. This way she could anticipate the particular strokes that would cause the most difficulty and might lead to color smudging—a nail artist’s worst nightmare. There was only one small window in her bedroom that faced the east, and without sufficient light, she had a difficult time determining if the colors were right. When she asked muscles about adding another window, he mentioned, in a tone even less congenial than before, that she might consider waking up early enough to catch the rising sun. Claudia assumed he was kidding.
After two days however, Claudia was beginning to feel comfortable in the farm home. Which meant it was time to talk to Ross about her…gulp…responsibilities. Checking the clock next to her bed stand, she saw that it was already late afternoon. Too late to start on her responsibilities today, she decided on another nap instead. She would join the two downstairs for dinner and discuss what her options were. That settled, Claudia wrapped herself in her now favorite afghan and once again felt the security of the blanket, the house and the farm overwhelm her.
Later, she woke gradually, enjoying the comfort of the blanket and the soft bed. She could have lingered forever, but her stomach was calling the shots, and it was hungry. Not one to deny her basic human urges, she rolled out of bed. First stop was the ridiculous mirror in the bathroom.
She took a quick peek and decided that her hair was almost unsalvageable. Almost, but not quite. From among the throng of beauty supplies that now filled every ounce of counter space on the small vanity around the sink, Claudia found a can of hair spray. Bending her body in half, her head bobbing upside down between her knees, she proceeded to spray in circular motions. When she lifted her head, she was dizzy, but her hair was back in top shape. The key to beauty was volume. Lesson number one at the Brooklyn Academy of Beauty.
As she made her way down the stairs, she heard voices below and off to the right. They must be in the kitchen. For the most part, Claudia had kept to her room the last two days, but she’d wandered around the house enough to get a feel for the place. There was a living room-slash-family room: very comfortable. A dining room with a formal table and chairs: pretty stuffy. A den with a computer and tons of books: very manly. A homey sort of house overall, she decided.
“I don’t want you spending every waking moment with her, that’s all.”
Ross’s voice, Claudia recognized. Not that it was hard to distinguish it from Rosie’s. She held her position on the stairs. Something told her they were talking about her. Something also told her it wasn’t good.
“But why?” Rosa May protested. “She understands me, even after only knowing me for a few days. We’ve bonded.”
“Bonded,” Ross repeated skeptically. “Where do you get that kind of language?”
“Oprah,” Rosa May informed him. “She’s helping the world get in touch with their inner feelings.”
Ross groaned, but quickly recovered. “Miss Bertucci is a guest who will only be staying temporarily. I don’t want you to become too attached. More importantly, I don’t want her influence rubbing off on you. No more bonding.”
“You can’t stop bonding, Dad. It just happens. Besides what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Jeez, Dad do I have to spell it out? Claudia may talk funny, but she’s awfully pretty. Like her mom. Maybe you could ask her out on a date or something. It has been a while since your last date. And Miss Harkim wasn’t your type at all.”
“I will not be dating Miss Bertucci.”
“Because of her accent? That seems like a petty reason to reject a person.”
“Because of her…everything,” Ross corrected his daughter. “She is not my type, and you are to get that notion out of your head once and for all. Now I’ve given you some orders in regards to Miss Bertucci, and I expect them to be followed. Understand?”
“Capisce,” Rosa May responded reluctantly.
“It’s almost time for bed. Why don’t you go upstairs and read for a while?”
He made her sound like she had some kind of contagious disease, Claudia thought. And what did he mean, Because of her everything? Who did this guy think he was? She was a catch back in the neighborhood. A beautiful woman with means. He was nothing more than some dumb overinflated farmer. Why, she ought to march down these stairs and punch him in the nose. No, better yet, she’d punch him in the—
“What are you doing Claudia?” Rosa May asked.
Claudia was caught midstairs with her hands balled into fists and her face scrunched up in fury. She hadn’t just been thinking of revenge, she’d been acting it out on the stairs.
“Hi sweetie. I was…” Think, think, she commanded her brain. “Exercising?”
Rosa May smiled. “Seven point two. Lacks plausibility. You are on the stairs.”
Great, Claudia snorted, she was rubbing off on the girl.
“Don’t mind what my dad says. He can be a real dope sometimes. But don’t tell him I said so, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “You know you’re too smart for your age.”
“It’s the twenty-first century. Children are maturing much quicker these days. It’s the adults that are having the difficulty adjusting.”
“Yeah. The twenty-first century.” Claudia repeated as if that explained everything.
“Good night,” Rosa May called out, as she bolted past her up the stairs.
Claudia continued her journey in search of food, which ultimately led her down the hallway toward the kitchen. For the first time she noticed the pictures that lined the walls, and couldn’t help envying the family scenes. Rosie, as a baby, seemed to be the subject of choice. But there were also pictures of parents and other life events. In one frame Ross stood with a class of very serious-minded-looking men and women. Naturally there were a few wedding pictures. She stopped at one particular portrait.
She was pretty. Not beautiful. Not even striking. Simply pretty. Fair hair, creamy skin, a broad face and a sturdy frame. Not fat, not skinny. Just strong. She was standing in front of the house, her hand acting as a brim over her eyes to shield them from the sun. She wore a cotton housedress, and Keds sneakers on her feet. Her smile was shy, and it was clear she was embarrassed to have her picture taken.
The wife, Claudia surmised. He was right. If this woman was his type, then Claudia was the exact opposite. She didn’t know why that should make her feel sad, but it did.
“My wife.”
Startled, Claudia jumped. Ross was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The light was behind him, shadowing his features, but at the same time it emphasized his size. Boy, he was big, Claudia thought each time she saw him. Not bodybuilder big, though. His size was a natural thing, not one he’d purposefully created. Manual labor had built that chest, not weights.
“I could tell. She was very pretty. I’m sorry for your loss.” Claudia shook off the feeling that she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She’d simply been sizing up the competition…uh…uh…admiring the photograph. That’s what she meant.
“We don’t talk about her much. My daughter and I. Mostly because we’re too busy. But we talked about her over dinner tonight. She says that’s thanks to you.”
It was hard to tell if he was upset by her interference or not. His face was grim, but she hadn’t seen any other expression directed at her since she met him.
“I…uh…”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she responded. She stepped a little closer. His voice had been softer, and she wondered if his expression had softened to match it. It hadn’t. But his eyes—green like the fields outside—bore into hers, conveying his appreciation in addition to his words. Those eyes! Claudia felt her stomach drop.
“Are you hungry?”
Loaded question. Don’t go there, Claudia ordered her hormones. You saw the picture of his wife. You heard what he said. You are not his type. And despite his large body, he is not your type. He is Farmer Ted and you are a sophisticated New York nail artist. That decided, it was time to get down to serious business.
“I’m starved,” she answered.
Ross moved back into the kitchen, and Claudia followed. She sat at the large oak kitchen table situated in the middle of the room. A hand-embroidered place mat was laid out for her with a fork and knife on opposite sides of the mat. Ross removed a plate from the oven and set it down in front of her.
Mashed potatoes. Fried chicken. Gravy on both. And broccoli. It’s what they had last night, too. Leftovers, Claudia assumed and dug in with gusto. While she was eating, Ross sat down at the table with a pad of paper and a pencil in his hand.
“I thought maybe now would be the best time to go over your schedule. I assume you’re ready to work.”
Her mouth wrapped around a chicken leg, Claudia could only nod.
Taking that as a yes, he continued. “Breakfast is served at 5:30…a.m.,” he added in case she didn’t understand. “You’ll need to eat then. On a farm breakfast is the most important meal of the day because most of the heavy labor is done in the morning.”
Heavy labor! Claudia gulped her chicken down in one swallow.
“What chore do you think would best suit you?” Ross asked. He was willing to be magnanimous enough to let her pick her own tasks. After all, she hadn’t really asked to be here. But then he didn’t ask to have her.
Wiping the gravy from her chin, Claudia considered the question. “I could braid Rosie’s hair in the morning.”
Ross sighed. She wasn’t quite getting the picture. “Rosa May braids her own hair. And I was thinking more along the lines of a real chore.”
A real chore on a farm. Claudia wasn’t too sure what that was. “Maybe you could give me a few choices.”
“Have you ever milked a cow?”
She shook her head.
“Ridden a horse?”
Again, no.
“Mucked a stall?”
Mucked? Claudia didn’t even know what that meant. “Never.”
Ross dropped his pad on the table. “Maybe the best thing would be to let you try a lot of different chores tomorrow. Then you can pick which one best suits you.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Claudia concurred.
“Do you have any clothes…” Ross paused, trying to phrase his question delicately. “More suited for work on a farm?”
“You mean like jeans?”
“Yes, jeans would be all right. Do you have jeans?”
“Sure. Who doesn’t have jeans?”
Ross nodded, satisfied that at least that issue was settled. He feared that all her clothes would resemble the ensembles she’d been wearing about the house. Tight pants, high heels, revealing blouses that made him want to reveal more. It didn’t do his daughter any good to see her dressed so scantily. It didn’t help him, either. Not that he was having a problem controlling his hormones. But a pair of old jeans, and maybe a sweatshirt, would reduce her to the status of any other woman.
“Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Claudia watched as Ross stood and left the room. She heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs above. Finishing the last of her meal, she looked at the clock above the stove. It was only nine, but the house was already asleep. She, on the other hand, wasn’t tired at all after her nap.
Hmm, what to do? Maybe she could catch a movie on television. Hopefully a boring one that would put her to sleep. She dropped her plate into the sink and headed off in search of a television. “Oh TV, where are you?” she called.
Wandering about the house, Claudia located it in the living room. It was a huge room that took up most of the bottom floor. Comfortable chairs to ease a man after a hard day’s work were spread out about the room. There was a couch that beckoned her, and a TV tucked into an entertainment unit. Quite a change from the days of Little House on the Prairie, Claudia mused. A flip of the remote control and she was in business. Immediately, she could see that they had cable, and cable meant they had the shopping channel. A few hits of the remote and she was staring at a one-of-a-kind porcelain cow pitcher, perfect for cream in the morning, and a model that needed a touch-up on her French manicure.
Five hours later the cow made a second appearance. And Claudia was up to see it.