To Winter’s surprise, she was enveloped in a hug. As was Jake.
“Welcome to the family,” the woman said. “And here are the boys.” She pointed to each one from tallest to shortest. “Davey, Matty and Tony. My grandsons.”
Winter eyed them. The tallest stared back. He didn’t look much older than eight or nine. The middle one had cake frosting in his hair. The little one leaned sleepily against his grandmother’s side. They were all dark-haired and dark-eyed. Despite wearing dark pants and white shirts, they looked as if they’d get into trouble given a little freedom.
Not exactly an impressive group of cousins. But then again, she reminded herself, she had no experience and had no expectations. For all she knew, everyone had disappointing cousins.
And they didn’t seem too thrilled with her, either, except for the tallest boy, who appeared somewhat fascinated. As if he’d seen a space alien.
Jake shook hands with all three boys, which seemed to impress them. She wondered where their father was, then decided it didn’t matter. Everyone was divorced; sometimes their parents stuck around and sometimes they didn’t. Robbie’s parents were still married, but he’d said there were dreadful rows and his father had a girlfriend in Chelsea.
“So,” Mrs. Swallow said. “Are you a fisherman, too?”
“No.” Jake chuckled. “I’m a musician.”
“Ah,” she said. “Another Hove who can’t stay in one place.”
“Up until now, no,” Jake answered, still chuckling a little. “I travel a lot, though. I guess it does run in the family.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Family’s important.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said. “And I’m glad to meet yours.”
Mrs. Swallow looked pleased.
“Your Uncle Jake has come to visit,” Uncle Sam told the boys. “We’ll have to show him around.”
“We could ride horses,” the middle boy suggested. “Owen has ’em.”
“Not now, he doesn’t,” his older brother said. “They’re not back yet.”
“Where did they go?” She hadn’t intended to speak, but Winter couldn’t help herself. She’d always wanted to ride a horse, but every time she’d suggested a summer riding camp her mother had shuddered and muttered, “Broken bones, no way.”
And that had been the end of that.
“To Les’s ranch,” the boy explained. “They usually live there, but when they come back here we can go riding.”
Well, hallelujah. Something to look forward to. Winter glanced up at Jake to see if he was going to object, but instead he cupped her shoulder and said how that sounded like fun and he’d have to meet Owen and talk to him about it.
“Let’s go find Owen, then,” Uncle Sam said. “Want me to take the boys?”
Mrs. Swallow shook her head. “Not right now. The food’s coming and we’ll be eating as soon as the bride and groom say the word. I’ll save room for you here at our table. Tell Lucia everything is ready out here.”
Still stunned about the possibility of riding horses, Winter let herself be led away from the Swallow family and back toward the opened flap door of the tent. She didn’t know how long they’d been here, but they’d done a lot of wandering around the place.
Teenagers carrying large containers of food blocked their way out. It all smelled really good. Better even than the make-it-yourself waffles at the Super 8 this morning.
Jake put his arm around her shoulder and guided her past the staff and into the fresh air. The picnic tables were beginning to fill up now, as wedding guests gathered around plates of appetizers and big vats of lemonade and iced tea. A group of little girls chased each other across the lawn while larger boys, Winter’s age, huddled together and looked self-conscious. Was the whole town here?
“The whole town is here,” her uncle explained, unknowingly answering her question. “You’re going to meet a lot of people.”
“Will they square-dance?”
Sam shot her a curious look. “Why? Do you?”
“No, but I’ve heard about it. And we are out West.”
“I hate to disappoint you,” he said, “but I don’t think there’s going to be square dancing today. Maybe a two-step. There might be a few callers in Billings, but I’ve never heard of square dancing here in Willing.”
“Callers?”
“The people who call out the directions for square dancing. Callers. It’s a lost art, or so I’ve heard.”
“Oh.” She would have to Google that.
“My daughter has spent her life in France and London,” Jake explained. “This is all new to her.”
“Well, it was all new to me, too, last December. I’d never been to Montana before, either.” Her uncle smiled. “I hope you’ll stay awhile so we can get to know one another.”
“Well,” Winter said, “that would be interesting, considering that you must have very exotic stories about the jungle. And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
“No place else to go?” Her uncle didn’t hide his surprise. He gave Jake a weird look. “Are you homeless or something?”
“We’re heading back to Nashville from Seattle,” Jake said gently. “I have a place there.”
Sam didn’t look happy to hear that. “Are you in a hurry?”
“No,” Jake said. “But—”
“Good,” Sam said. Jake had told her he was a zoologist and made movies about catching fish, but today he looked more like her biology teacher at school. “I’ve never had a niece before. And I haven’t had a brother in a long, long time. We need to catch up.”
Winter could have summed it up for him: divorce, unknown daughter, dead ex-wife.
Maybe her so-called father should write a song about that.
* * *
“HE BOUGHT THIRTY picnic tables for the wedding,” Meg said, walking with Aurora to the tent. They’d received strict orders from Lucia to head there immediately. “Who does that?”
“That’s a lot of picnic tables.” Aurora thought it made the ranch yard look festive. The whole wedding should have been photographed for a magazine spread, she decided. Jerry had missed the boat on that one. Friends and neighbors clustered at the tables, stood in groups, walked in and out of the barn, gathered around the entrance to the huge white tent. She guessed four hundred people had showed up for this wedding, though they were scattered between the tent, the picnic tables, the yard and the barn. And as she’d told Sam’s brother, it was a much-deserved holiday for the town.
“Owen insisted they’d come in handy.”
Aurora couldn’t help being curious. “Come in handy for what? I can see that you’d need them now, with this many people, but unless you’re turning the Triple M into a county park, what are you going to do with them?”
“We may decide to use the ranch as a wedding venue. We’ve talked about it,” the bride said. “We’ve talked about it a lot, but I want to keep our privacy, too, you know?”
“Really?” It was a beautiful place, and where better to get married than a historic ranch with its own party barn? “You could cater, Lucia could do the wedding cakes, I could provide the bar. Les could park cars and your mother—what would Loralee do?”
“Babysit,” Meg pronounced. “Because