The Magnificent Seven

“That’s not a good lunch.”

“Everyone else is eating it.” Heather demonstrated by taking a bite of her sandwich. Patrick and Andrew were watching the exchange with interest while they chewed. Jessica already looked as tired of the girls’ complaints as Heather felt.

Ashley stared, agape. “But we’ll be hungry!”

“I guess you will.”

Taylor folded her arms over her chest and pouted.

The afternoon went a little more smoothly, because she’d purchased Veggie-Tales’ videos none of them had seen before. The kids watched and laughed, and at snack time, nobody complained about raisins, graham crackers, or juice.

“Now it’s time to pick everything up and put it away,” Heather announced.

“I’m not pickin’ stuff up. My leg hurts.” Taylor ensconced herself on the sofa.

Her leg had been fine all afternoon, Heather noted. “Everyone who helps, gets a treat,” she coaxed, thinking that would bring the girl around.

The others picked up puzzles and toys and rolled up the sleeping bags they liked to lounge upon, then Heather presented four of the five children with a heart-shaped treat from her private stash of Godiva chocolates.

Taylor scowled, pursed her lips into a pout, and glared at Heather. “You’re mean. I don’t like you.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. You had the same chance as the others to help clean up.”

“I’m just a kid.”

“You’re not just a kid. You’re a very bright and capable young lady.” With a negative attitude.

“What’s ‘capable’?”

“It means you’re smart and good at doing things.”

Apparently the compliment from someone she considered mean confused her. She leaned back on the aged sofa, refusing to watch the others finish their candy. Probably planning a dramatic tale with which to regale her father, Heather thought. “My daddy will buy me a treat of my own.”

While Patrick and Andrew took naps upstairs, Heather gave the three girls a stack of books, put on a tape of relaxing rainforest sounds, and with one ear zeroed on the chatter, familiarized herself with the blueprint program Mitch had given her on disk.

It was as easy as he’d assured her, and she enjoyed experimenting with the different kitchen scenarios. Before long, she’d narrowed it down to two floor plans. She would show them to him for his input on cost-effectiveness.

Heather rearranged the room again, making space for the washer and dryer to be enclosed. She checked the clock, saved her work to a disk, and went to check on the kids.

Taylor sat on a worn chair and slid down until her chin reached her chest. “I don’t wanna be here.”

Her heart softened toward the troublesome child. She picked up a book from the floor and perched on the sofa. “I guess this is different from the way things used to be for you, isn’t it?”

Blue eyes assessed her skeptically.

“I’ll bet you miss your grandmas, huh?”

Taylor allowed a fractional nod.

“And our mama,” Ashley said from the other side of the room. “We miss our mama, don’t we, Taylor?”

One side of Taylor’s mouth moved up in what might have been agreement.

“Did your mother read to you?” Heather asked, hoping to find a way to connect with the little girl.

“Yes, she did. She read to us all the time. Every night. Good books, too, not dumb ones.”

“Would you like it if I read a story to you?”

Taylor’s expression remained unchanged.

“I would!” Immediately Ashley came and seated herself right beside Heather, delightedly worming her way until she was nearly in her lap.

Heather met Jessica’s look of amusement and they shared a grin. Obviously Jess recognized what Heather had been trying to do and sympathized.

Heather pulled the eager, loving child into her lap and opened the book. So easy. It was so easy for this twin to ingratiate herself, to show her need for closeness and a maternal touch.

Taylor watched from her position on the chair. She didn’t seem to resent her sister’s gregarious ability to tuck herself into an embrace and enjoy herself, but surely her thoughts were confused. Heather got confused just watching her.

Jess came to sit beside them and listen to the story, too. Taylor listened without expression.

When the boys awoke, Heather took the children outdoors for the rest of the afternoon. They sat for a while on the grassy bank of the pond, watching dragonflies and tossing sticks into the water. The pounding of hammers drew her gaze to the house where Mitch and his three-man crew, having removed the old roof and torn off the back porch, were framing the new one.

The house was located in an ideal spot, with a view of the Crazy Mountains off to the northwest. Years ago there had been a garden on that same side of the house; Heather remembered picking beans in the morning sun.

A cyclone fence would be ideal for a family home, she mused. Children could be left to play safely inside with a swing set and a sandbox. Mentally ticking off the remaining weeks, she wondered if a few playground toys wouldn’t be a good investment toward keeping her sanity.

The hired men worked until nearly eight, then headed toward Whitehorn. “You’re welcome to the shower,” she told Mitch. “And I have some supper saved if you’d like it.”

“I brought a change of clothes, so I’ll take you up on that.” Minutes later he returned with damp hair, his skin darkened from a day in the sun.

“I wanted to show you the plans I came up with today.” She pointed to the pages she’d printed and placed on the table. She filled a plate from the dishes in the oven.

Mitch studied her floor plans. “I like this one a lot. But you know, if we sort of combined the two and added on just a couple of feet out that way—” he gestured with a thumb “—we could include a shower in the laundry room. And a door from outside. That way Mr. Rancher could come in after his long dirty day and not even have to walk through the house.”

“That’s a practical suggestion,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I like it a lot, and it would really add to the appeal of the place. How much?”

He jotted a few columns on the back of the paper, tallied them and gave her a figure. “Ball park,” he said. “Nothing fancy—molded shower stall.”

She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Mitch dug into the food she’d placed before him. It was an unaccustomed pleasure to have a lovely and attentive young woman serve him his supper. He’d missed this normal kind of life.

Heather moved around the kitchen, her motions graceful and efficient. He pictured her in a power suit, sitting in an office in a high-rise building. What a change this must be for her. “How did your day go?” he asked. “The rest of your day, anyway?”

She hung a dish towel to dry. “Fair, considering I have no idea how to get through to Taylor.”

She told him about the problems she had with her, and about Taylor’s reactions. “Don’t be surprised if she asks you to buy her a treat.”