She’d thrown up after reading her first pregnancy test, and not because of morning sickness. Another test, taken with hands that shook, gave the same result. And for the first time in her life, Ellie had no idea what to do or how to deal with the numb realization that her life would never be the same.
Denial seemed a viable option. Gallons of ice cream another.
Instead she had called Nick and told him the facts: she was pregnant and he was the father. He’d instantly offered her money, for medical costs, for support, for silence. The silence had been his utmost concern. Or perhaps she would consider a termination....
Ellie had made no promises, told him she’d think about the money, hung up the phone and then drafted her letter of resignation.
Never in her life had she reacted to a situation with her emotions leading the charge, but never in her life had she encountered a situation such as this. Or dreamed she ever would. The reason planners planned was to avoid these kinds of situations.
Ellie took her tea to the dining room table, sat with a notebook and started doing what she should have done from day one: writing down her goals and the necessary steps to achieve them.
Goal— Her pen stilled. She briefly closed her eyes, then wrote Have a healthy baby.
There. No more denial. She was pregnant. In seven and a half months she would be a mother.
Steps to achievement. One: seek prenatal care. Two: research pregnancy.
Ellie’s pen hovered for a moment before she wrote:
Goal—Use time at ranch constructively to prepare for personal future.
She had no idea what her steps were there, so she skipped a few lines and moved on to the next item.
Goal—Present Milo with understandable overview of ranch operations to enable him to make future ranch management decisions.
That was what he’d hired the consultant to do, but having another point of reference wouldn’t hurt matters.
Steps to achievement. One: observe ranch operations on a daily basis.
She wasn’t certain of what she would learn, since she was starting from ground zero, but it seemed like the logical first step.
Two: informally evaluate employee performance, goals, strengths, weaknesses.
Now, that she could do.
Three: observe operations at other ranches and compare to Milo’s operation.
Again logical.
Four: meet with consultant.
There. Two goals set out in a businesslike manner. Three if she counted the one with no steps, but she didn’t because a nebulous goal was more like a wish.
Feeling slightly more in control, she pushed the notebook aside and sipped her tea. This was a start. A good start. She had direction. She reached for the pen again, hesitated, settled her left hand on her abdomen before she wrote, Research OBs. Make baby appointment.
* * *
FINALLY.
Ellie heard the truck approaching and pulled open the front room curtains to get a look at it, wrinkling her nose as dust wafted into the air. Whoever was cleaning this place needed a few lessons.
The red pickup pulled in between the small house and the barn, just as it had the night before, but this time she got a better look at the driver. Tallish, lean build, neatly dressed in jeans and a short jacket, ball cap over sandy hair.
He shot a quick look in Ellie’s direction before he mounted the porch, and she instinctively stepped back even though he probably couldn’t see her. As soon as he disappeared inside his house, Ellie slid her feet into her shoes and headed for the door, intent on intercepting him before he took off again.
The sun was out, but the air was crisp as she crossed the wide graveled area between the main house and barn. She hugged her arms around herself, wishing she’d grabbed a coat, but not wanting to turn back. She mounted the single porch step and crossed the creaking planks to the weathered six-paneled door, where she knocked once before rubbing her hands briskly over her upper arms. If this was what summer felt like in Montana, she didn’t think she’d want to spend a winter here. She was about to knock again when she heard movement from inside the house, and then a second later the door opened and Ellie found herself face-to-face with a rather incredible pair of greenish-gray eyes in an angular, magazine-worthy face. No wonder Montana was so popular.
“Hi,” the guy said with a frown that made Ellie realize she’d been staring. “Do you need help with something?”
“Are you Mr. Feldman?”
The frown cleared. “Madison. Ryan Madison.”
Ellie extended her hand. “Ellison Hunter. I’m Angela and Milo’s niece.”
Ryan took her hand briefly, then released it, but not before she’d registered how very callused his palm was. “Nice to meet you,” he said, sounding very much like Lonnie, the pie delivery boy. “I hope you enjoy your stay.” And that had been Jessie’s line.
“Yes, about that... It’s more than just a stay.” She sensed Ryan Madison taking a mental step back. After five years of working in human resources, she was pretty good at reading people, reading reactions. Most of the time anyway. She’d totally missed the boat with Nick and was now paying a very steep price. “I’m here to learn about the ranch.”
“Learn what?” he asked.
“How it’s run.”
“Do the Bradworths have a problem with the way the place is run?”
“They don’t know yet,” Ellie said matter-of-factly. “That’s why I’m here. I’m sure everything is fine, but you can see where my aunt and uncle need to be brought up to speed before moving onto the property.”
“Of course,” Ryan said. His hand was still on the door, as if he wanted to be able to close it as quickly as possible. “What can I do to help?”
“I’d like to meet with all the employees, discuss their duties. Get to know the operation and work from there.”
Ryan nodded, but gave no answer.
“I’d like to start soon.”
His eyebrows lifted. “How soon?”
“Well, as soon as it’s convenient.” She wanted something to do, something to focus on.
“Are you thinking today?”
“I was.”
“Fine.”
But she had a feeling it wasn’t. “I need to get in touch with the other employees and don’t have the means to do so. I can’t find any records.”
“There are three of us. Francisco Garcia, Walt and myself.”
“Could you give me cell numbers?” she asked.
“I can for Francisco,” he said. “Walt doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“Really?”
“Old school.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. Old school was not usually the best practice when it came to business, but then Angela had said the place was about fifty years behind the times.
“I’ll have him get hold of you,” Ryan said.
“That’s what Mrs. Garcia said yesterday.”
“Jessie’s kind of busy with the kids right now. Maybe it slipped her mind. I’ll have Walt down here by the end of the day.”
“Thank you.” She shifted her weight, wishing she wasn’t feeling the urge to let her eyes travel slowly down his long body.