That had been a rough enough pill to swallow, but then, on the way out of the expensive new hospital addition that he was helping to pay for, Marcela James, the hospital administrator, had collared him. He thought for one brief happy moment that perhaps she’d heard about his visit to the accounting office and was there to offer a reprieve, but no. Instead she cheerfully told him that if he wanted to sell that forty-acre parcel her husband had once approached him about, they’d still be happy to buy it.
Zach had smiled and nodded while thinking, “When hell freezes over.”
Leave it to the Jameses to hit a guy when he was down. Zach was not parceling up his ranch. Not until he got backed into a tighter corner than he was in now—although the way things were going, that might be tomorrow.
He pressed his fist against his sternum, trying to ease the dull stress-induced ache. All he needed was to keel over from a heart attack. That’d help the girls a whole bunch.
Zach unlocked the truck, then pulled the list out of his jeans pocket and gave it a shake to straighten it out. Bike tire was at the top. Beneath that purple dye. Even though Beth Ann insisted that Lizzie was spoiled, and Zach did not disagree, Beth Ann had agreed to try to dye the coat. Lizzie understood that she might end up with a muddy gray mess, but she was willing to take the chance. Someday Zach would have a heart-to-heart and find out why his youngest daughter hated red.
* * *
BEFORE MOVING TO the boonies, Tess had had no inkling that the simple act of sanding wood, of doing something with her hands other than sketching, could be such a sanity saver. Usually the steady rhythm soothed her, but today she sanded for less than an hour before she decided to give it up for the day and investigate possible at-home careers. The non-scam kind.
It’d been a project she’d been putting off because she was afraid of reality—as in, there probably wasn’t anything she could do to make a living at home. Oh, there were jobs. Medical transcriptionist. Technical writer. Data entry. Phone surveyor. But nothing jumped out at her, mainly because she had no formal training beyond a high school diploma and an impressive modeling portfolio. She wasn’t qualified for a hell of a lot, except perhaps phone surveyor.
You have time to figure this out...
But how much time? Especially if she had to train for something. She still had nearly a hundred grand in her LLC account after buying the ranch; however, simple math indicated that if she spent only the bare minimum, she could last maybe eight years. And that was if she didn’t buy a newer car, had no increase in costs and was stingy with the electricity. Not exactly the way she wanted to live.
Ironically she’d given some thought to investigating second careers a few months ago. Almost ten years had passed since she’d been signed by the Dresden Modeling Agency, a near miracle which she credited to her unusual celadon-green eyes and the cheekbones she’d inherited from her Irish grandmother. Models didn’t necessarily have to disappear in their late twenties anymore, but some of Tess’s longtime associates had started losing work and she was not one to ignore warning signs. And then, amazingly, she’d made the short list for the Face of Savoy Cosmetics campaign and all thoughts of investigating a second career were put on hold while she waited for an answer.
Her face had been slashed before she heard.
Tess rubbed her hand over her cheek, testing to see if it still ached as much as it had yesterday. Yes. The torn muscles were slow to heal, though the stitches had probably dissolved long ago.
Her face would eventually heal, but she would never be able to make money as she had only a few months ago. Eddie had taken that away from her.
Tess tried hard not to think about that, mainly because she was afraid that if she stopped feeling numb about her career, if she let herself think about how much she’d lost, she wouldn’t be able to move past the bitterness.
She turned off the computer monitor, having had enough depression for one day, then jumped a mile when Mac let out a loud bark. Blossom instantly joined in and once again they raced to the back door.
Right on schedule.
Tess walked into the kitchen just in time to see the three girls traipsing along the path by the barn, one tall and dark-haired with glasses, one just a few inches shorter with long brown braids and the last a small little thing with a short blond pixie cut.
“Stay,” Tess said sharply, not being able to recall the Dutch command. But the dogs obediently held as she opened the back door and slipped outside. She’d debated about covering her injury then decided what the hell? People were eventually going to see it. Covering it only seemed to draw more attention.
“Hey,” she called after the girls. They instantly stopped, whirling around with surprised looks on their faces.
Tess marched through the tall grass toward them. The littlest girl, who had a red coat bundled under her arm even though it was quite chilly, took a small step backward, her eyes fixed on Tess’s scars.
“This is private property,” Tess said. “You can’t just cross it any time you please.”
Three pairs of eyes widened then the ones behind the glasses narrowed again. “We’ve always used this path to go to school,” the oldest girl said with a touch of indignation.
“For years,” the middle girl added, nervously flipping one of her braids over her shoulder.
“Because that property owner didn’t care,” Tess explained matter-of-factly. “But I do.”
“Why?” the oldest girl asked.
“It doesn’t matter why,” Tess snapped. She hadn’t expected to get an argument. She’d expected to lay down the law and have the girls comply. “If you persist in using the trail, I’m going to call the police.”
“Sheriff,” the older girl said dryly, negating the effect Tess was aiming at.
“Whatever,” Tess said. “I will contact the authorities.”
The littlest girl continued to stare at Tess’s face. No, she was more than staring. She was doing an in-depth study, tilting her head and wrinkling her forehead, and it made Tess feel ridiculously uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. “Of course, I don’t want to do that, so please, take the road from now on.”
“But—” the girl with the braids started to say before the tall girl touched her shoulder. She instantly closed her mouth.
“Is this property posted?” glasses girl asked.
Tess raised her eyebrows at the unexpected question. “Excuse me?”
The girl tilted her chin up. “Posted. If you don’t have No Trespassing signs, then technically you can’t accuse us of trespassing.”
“I most certainly can.”
The girl shook her head. “No. You can’t. Look it up.”
Tess let out a breath, thinking she was so not prepared to do battle with a know-it-all preadolescent when the youngest girl asked in a hushed voice, “What happened to your face?”
“I got caught trespassing.” Tess grated the words out. “And trust me...you wouldn’t want this to happen to you.”
The little girl gasped, her eyes growing wide as she backed up until she was plastered against the older girl, who put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The little girl’s lower lip quivered, her eyes still fixed on the scars, and Tess felt bad for all of a split second. “If I were you,” she said coolly, “I’d take the long way home from now on.”
And then, since she’d made her point and didn’t want to risk crossing verbal swords with the oldest girl again, turned on her heel