The Inherited Twins

Not nearly enough, he thought in disappointment, when she reluctantly showed him her list of reservations. “Is there any other way you can bring in money?”

She tilted her head and the subtle movement brought him the lavender scent of her perfume. “We had plans to turn the barn into a party facility, use it for wedding receptions and big parties, but Sven and Liz-Beth died before we could get started on that.”

It was a good idea. Unfortunately, it couldn’t happen fast enough. “You could charge for breakfast.”

Claire disagreed. “All the big hotel chains offer free breakfast with an overnight stay now. To stay competitive, I have to do that, too.”

Silence fell as they both stared at the numbers on the pages in front of them. “Is there any equipment you could sell—like a tractor or something—to temporarily add to the profits?”

“We liquefied everything we could when we were building the cottages. What little lawn we have mowed now, that isn’t xeriscaped or returned to the wild, is done by a rancher in the area.” Claire leaned forward, and Heath sensed it was all she could do not to grip his hands. “If I can get good press, more exposure, I can turn this around.”

Heath figured he could ask around at the bank, see if anyone at the other branches had any ideas, or was in a position to call in a favor. In the meantime, he would be straight with her. “You’ve got a little less than two weeks.”

Claire was unable to mask her disappointment. “And if I can’t manage to turn things around by then?” she asked warily.

He exhaled, hating to be the bearer of bad news to such a sweet woman. “Then we’re going to have to look at doing one of two things. Lease or sell at least part of the mineral rights to the ranch. Or sell off part—or all—of the twins’ share of the business.”

If he had to do either, Heath knew, she would end up resenting the heck out of him.

There’d be no more kisses.

No more confidences.

Not even the possibility of romance.

And that really stunk.

IT WAS NEARLY EIGHT in the evening by the time Heath left the bank, grabbed a bite to eat and got back to the Red Sage. As he pulled into the parking lot, real-estate broker Ginger Haedrick drew up beside him. They got out of their vehicles at the same time.

Ginger gestured toward the office, where lights were blazing. “What’s going on?”

Through the windows, Heath could see most of the other Red Sage guests milling around Claire. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

The two of them went over to the office.

When they walked in, Heidi and Henry looked up from the toy corner. They had obviously already had their baths, and were in their pajamas.

“Hey!” Henry’s face lit up. He elbowed his sister. “Look! It’s Mr. Fearsome.”

Heidi grinned, too. She plucked a picture book off the shelf and ran over to him. “Can you read us another story with voices?”

“We went to a party today,” Henry declared, ignoring his twin. “They had cake and everything.”

“Yeah.” Heidi clutched her storybook to her chest, and peered up at Heath. “We helped Buddy blow out the candles because he couldn’t do it all by himself.”

“That’s great.” Heath smiled.

Ginger looked over at the banquet table in the corner. It was covered with a gingham tablecloth as well as boxes of pizza, paper plates and napkins. An ice-filled washtub holding canned sodas sat on the floor next to it. “Y’all having a party?” she asked, in a tone that indicated if it were true, it wasn’t much of a celebration.

“We’re helping Claire make a sales video for the ranch,” Mr. Finglestein said. He and his wife were dressed identically in khaki trousers, plaid shirts and multi-pocketed canvas vests. Both had binoculars slung around their necks. The excitement in their eyes made them look younger than their fifty-something years.

Mrs. Finglestein nodded and indicated the jumble of cameras, cables and laptops connected to Claire’s computer. “We’re letting Claire use some of the footage we’ve shot while we’ve been birding.”

T. S. Sturgeon, the mystery writer on deadline, looked up from the yellow legal pad she was scribbling on. “I’m writing the copy.” She paused and considered Heath. “You have a nice voice. Deep. Resonant. Quietly authoritative. Maybe you should do some of the voice-overs.”

Mrs. Finglestein nodded. “It would be worth your while. If you help, you get a free night’s stay.”

Claire avoided Heath’s eyes. With good reason, he thought. Making the sales video was a good idea, but reducing her profits for the month even further by giving away free lodging was not.

“Ginger could give it a try, too,” T.S. said. “Maybe have both a man and a woman speaking.”

Mrs. Finglestein nodded. “Might broaden the appeal.”

The twins tugged on Heath’s pant legs, soundlessly pleading for him to pick them up. Aware they were a little old for that, but also probably a little overwhelmed by the chaotic activity, he scooped one up in each arm.

“Read to us!” Heidi tried to give him the book, and ended up thunking him in the chin.

Claire sent them a distressed look. “Kids…!”

The door to the office opened. Mae Lefman, babysitter and part-time ranch employee, walked in.

Claire’s spine relaxed in relief.

“I got here as soon as I could,” Mae said, with a smile.

“They’re all ready for bed,” Claire told her. She crossed over to the children, and one by one, removed them from Heath’s arms, kissing and hugging them before setting them down next to Mae.

“I have work to do.” Claire knelt and faced Heidi and Henry, meeting them on their level. “SoMrs. Lefman is going to put you to bed and stay there with you until I’m finished.”

“Can Mr. Fearsome read us a story with voices?”

“No, honey, not tonight.But Mrs. Lefman will read to you.”

“How about Curious George books?” Mae suggested, holding out a hand to each twin. “They’re lots of fun.”

Wistfully, Heath watched the children walk across the yard to the ranch house. It shouldn’t matter to him who read the kids a bedtime story. But somehow it did…

Which probably meant he was getting way too involved.

“So how about it?” T.S. asked, drawing Heath back to the present. “Either of you interested in doing the voice-overs?”

“Thanks for the invitation, but Heath and I already have plans,” Ginger interjected. “I promised to show him some real-estate listings this evening so we can start looking at properties tomorrow. Maybe we can help some other time?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Claire looked at Ginger with the patience of a saint, given the agent’s rather snotty attitude. “But thank you for the offer.”

“If you need a voice-over,” Heath interjected, “or any other help, count me in. I don’t know a lot about putting together a video, but I’m a quick study.”

“Thanks. But I think we’ve got it covered. Y’all should stick to your original plans.”