Harley straightened. “I don’t know.”
“They haven’t brought them down yet?”
“I haven’t seen them, no.”
“They’re testing you, Miss Diekerhoff. They know the rules.”
“I don’t know the rules, Mr. Sheenan.”
“Then maybe you need to ask.”
Harley lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “What are the house rules, Mr. Sheenan?”
“I’ll send the twins down. They’ll fill you in.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Harley went to bed Monday night, exhausted and frazzled.
She’d gone from relishing each day at Copper Mountain Ranch to counting down the days until she could leave. The twins didn’t like her much. And Brock Sheenan seemed to like her even less.
It was one thing to feed and clothe people. It was another thing to feed and clothe unhappy people. And the twins were certainly unhappy.
Fortunately, Tuesday passed without incident. Brock gave the twins chores, and the kids did their chores, and stayed out of her way.
Tuesday night Brock and his hands didn’t come in for dinner as limbs on a massive tree, weighted by snow and ice, snapped, taking down a long section of fence, allowing cattle to wander.
While Brock and the hands repaired the fence and tracked down the missing cattle, Harley fed the twins dinner, serving them at the kitchen counter.
“We’re not supposed to eat here,” Mack reminded her. “Dad’s rules.”
Harley filled their glasses with milk. “I asked your dad about that. He said it was Maxine’s rule, not his, and since Maxine isn’t here, I’m feeding you where I want to feed you.”
The twins looked at each other.
“Dad might get mad,” Mack added.
Harley placed the milks in front of the kids. “I’m not afraid of your dad, or Maxine. And besides, its nicer eating in here. It’s warm and cheerful. The dining room depresses me.”
The kids looked at each other again.
“Why does it depress you?” Molly asked, intrigued.
“It’s not very cozy.”
“Dad doesn’t do cozy,” Molly said. “Or holidays, or anything festive.” She sighed, and stabbed her fork in her chicken. “He used to like Christmas. But not anymore.”
Harley turned down the oven to make sure she didn’t dry the chicken out. “What do you do for Christmas? How do you celebrate? I noticed you don’t have any Advent Calendars out.”
“What are Advent Calendars?” Mack asked.
Harley drew a stool out and sat down. “They’re a calendar to help you count down to Christmas. Some of them have chocolates, others have little toys. They’re just fun.”
“Oh, then we definitely wouldn’t have them,” Molly said. She took a bite and chewed for a long time. After she swallowed, she shrugged. “We don’t even decorate anymore.”
Harley couldn’t believe this. “Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“What about a tree?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a wreath or garland or candles?”
Molly shook her head. “Dad stopped a couple of years ago with all that stuff. He said it was a waste of time, and expensive.”
Harley struggled to hide her horror. “What about presents? Stockings?”
“We get a few presents, mostly practical stuff. But we didn’t have stockings last year. Dad said we’re too old. Santa doesn’t exist.” Mack made a face. “And I know Santa isn’t real. We figured that out a long time ago, but he didn’t have to say it like that. It kind of made us feel bad.”
Harley could believe it. Just listening to the twins talk made her feel bad. “Well, maybe we could do something fun while I’m here.”
The twins looked skeptical. “Like what?” Molly asked.
“Bake cookies or make a gingerbread house.”
Mack frowned. “I’ve never made a gingerbread house.”
“I don’t know that I’d want to make a gingerbread house,” Molly retorted.
Harley shrugged and rose from the stool. “You’re right. Why frost cookies or decorate a gingerbread house and drink hot spiced apple cider, when you can shovel manure and stack hay bales?”
Wednesday morning after starting the laundry and tidying all the bathrooms and giving the hardwood floor a good sweep, Harley put on her snow boots and heavy jacket and gloves and headed outside to cut some fragrant pine boughs.
JB, who was on the smaller snowplow, clearing the path between the house and barn, and barn and bunk house, turned off the engine to ask Harley if she needed help.
“I think I’ve got it,” Harley said, shaking the armful of branches to remove excess snow. “But thank you.”
“What are you doing, Miss Harley?”
“Just adding a few festive touches to the house. Give it a little holiday spirit.”
JB adjusted his leather work glove. “Have you asked the boss? He’s not real big on holidays.”
“The kids told me he used to have more holiday spirit.”
“It’s been a few years.”
“What happened?”
“He’s just been a bachelor a long time. Hard to do everything and be happy about it.”
Harley glanced down at the green fragrant branches in her arms. “You really think Mr. Sheenan will be upset that I’ve spruced things up for Christmas? I’m just making some garland, adding some candles on the mantels.”
He thought for a moment. “If that’s all, Mr. Sheenan might be okay. But I wouldn’t push him. He’s not a man that likes to be bossed around.”
Brock entered the house through the kitchen door, which was how he always entered in his work clothes, but he was stopped short this afternoon by the sight of the twins hunched over the island counter carefully frosting sugar cookies that had been cut into stars and stockings, ornaments, candy canes and Christmas trees.
The kids looked up at him and smiled. Mack had flour on his cheek and Molly was licking icing from her thumb.
“Hey Dad, look what we made,” Molly said. “Roll-out sugar cookies.”
Brock approached the island to examine the platter filled with fanciful colors and shapes. “Nice,” he said.
“Want one?” Mack asked, offering him a candy cane.
Brock shook his head. “Maybe after dinner,” he answered, before looking at Harley who was drying the last of the cookie sheets. “Where did you get the cookie cutters from?” he asked her.
“Just made a paper pattern,” she said.
Mack nodded. “Miss Harley made the patterns out of cardboard and we cut them all out. It took a while but it was really cool.”
“You have to be careful not to roll the dough too thin,” Molly explained, “and you also have to watch how much flour you use. You can’t use too much or too little.”
Brock’s eyebrows lifted. “You got them baking today.”
She blushed, her cheeks turning pink. She looked nervous as she reached for the next cookie tray. “I thought it’d be a good activity for a cold afternoon.”
“Must have been a lot of work.”
“It was fun.”
Brock glanced back to the counter with the platter of cookies. The shapes weren’t perfect and there was more frosting than cookie in some cases, but Mack and Molly looked happy. Happier than he’d seen them since returning from New York. “Maxine wouldn’t let you two mess up her kitchen like this, would she?”
“But it shouldn’t be Maxine’s kitchen,” Harley said. “It’s yours, and the kids’. This is your house.”
Brock frowned. “Well, let’s not get too comfortable in here. She’ll be back in a month and she’ll want her kitchen back.” He tapped each of the kids on the head. “Mack, Molly, make sure you help Miss Diekerhoff clean up. You’re not to leave her with all the work.”
He started for the hall, but stopped at the fireplace. A generous swag of pine covered the mantel, the green branches held in place by fat white candles.
They hadn