The Rancher and the Girl Next Door

Brett gave up. “Next to the fridge.”

Claire opened the cupboard he indicated, then frowned as she pulled out a smallish glass. “What’s this?”

“It’s a wineglass.”

“No. This is an overgrown shot glass. And where’s the stem?”

“It’s a poor man’s wineglass. I can’t afford stems. You’re lucky it’s not a jelly glass.”

She smiled again as she took out a second one. “All right. But it’s small, so we’ll have to fill them more often.”

“How long do you plan on staying?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re tactless?” she asked.

He smiled instead of answering.

“And that doesn’t slow you down?”

“Not in the least.”

Brett pulled a corkscrew out of the utensil drawer before Claire had a chance to tear the kitchen apart looking for it. He plunged it into the cork with a little more force than necessary.

“White wine?” he asked.

“Is that a problem?”

“I prefer red wine when I solve problems.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

“Actually, I can’t see us doing a lot of joint problem solving,” he said pointedly.

Claire settled herself on one of the mismatched kitchen chairs. “I know that Will asked you to help me when you could. And I may need a lot of help before this year is over.”

She accepted the glass he offered, took a bracing drink, then reached up with her free hand to ruffle the top of her hair in a gesture that clearly suggested exhaustion, or possibly frustration. “Are you renovating?” She looked down the hall to the living room, where he was in the process of tearing up the old floor so he could lay a new one.

“The place needs work, so I try to do a little every month. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’d like some information.”

“On…?”

“My kids. My students. I’ve survived day two, and I’m not ashamed to admit that these kids are close to getting the best of me. That means I have to plan a strategy.”

Brett was impressed, in spite of himself. He’d always admired proactive people, as long as they weren’t running roughshod over him—or trying to.

“I’ll tell you what I know, but you gotta realize I haven’t lived here that long.”

“But you’re a native of the area.”

“My grandfather and great-grandfather were natives. Granddad sold.”

“Well, you’ve got to know more than I do.” Claire reached down for her purse and pulled out a small spiral notebook. “I’m thinking that if I can just understand the lay of the land, who’s related to whom and who does what, maybe I can connect better with the kids. I don’t want any dirt or gossip. Just information that’s in the public domain.”

Brett lifted the wine to his lips, sipped. It really wasn’t that bad for white wine. “Don’t you have school records with that kind of information?”

“Allegedly, but they’re in pretty bad shape. The district is sending me copies of missing documents, but I want to know about families. Where they live. What they do.”

Brett shrugged. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Okay, first off, tell me about the Landaus.”

“They’re rich.” Claire waited, and he expanded. “They’re one of the few families here that are not land rich and cash poor. Landau’s a nice guy. Ashley is his stepdaughter. Only child. He married the mother about three years ago, I think.”

“How about Jesse Lane?”

Brett shook his head. “Don’t know any Lanes. They aren’t locals. It might be that new guy who has the trailer north of town.”

“Elena and Lexi Moreno.”

“They’re related to the Hernandezes.”

“Ramon and Lily?”

“Hardworking families. The Hernandezes work for the Landaus. The Morenos have their own place.”

“So I have cousins in the classroom, as well as brothers and sisters,” Claire said musingly. “Okay. Rudy Liscano.”

Brett smiled slightly. Everyone knew Rudy. Everybody liked Rudy. “Rudy’s another cousin to the Hernandezes and the Morenos. His dad works for the county-road department. He’s the one you yell at when you blow a tire.”

“I see. How about Rachel Tyler?”

“Her family has the oldest ranch in the area. They raise nice horses.”

“Dylan Masterson?”

“I’m not certain. The Mastersons aren’t local. I think they own some businesses somewhere and are out here escaping. I know they built a hell of a place on the other side of town.”

“You mean, that A-frame?”

“That’s it.” Brett drained his glass. “I think she’s an artist or something.”

“And Toni Green.”

“Her mom works at the bar. They live in the rooms over the bar.” Brett had been invited to see those rooms before the latest boyfriend had taken up residence, but he’d declined the invitation. “I think she’s escaping, too, but for a different reason.”

Claire flipped her notebook shut. “Thanks.”