Taking on Twins, page 11
Greg sat the kids at one of the tables, then made for the kitchen door. It opened a microsecond after he knocked. Belle shot outside and greeted him exuberantly, barking and trying to claw her way up his leg and into his arms.
She didn’t get far. A sharp, “Sit, Belle,” and a tug on the piece of twine that had been attached to her collar brought the dog to an immediate halt.
Belle plopped her round bottom on the ground, let her fat tongue loll and twisted her head to gaze adoringly up at the person on the other end of the twine.
“You shouldn’t let her misbehave like that.” Corrine had stepped through the door and stood on the short stoop. “She’s not a bad dog. In fact, she’d quite smart. Just undisciplined.”
Greg watched in amazement as Corrine led the dog toward one of the picnic tables. Belle heeled perfectly, like any graduate of dog training class.
“How’d you get her to do that?” Ben asked, abandoning his yo-yo.
“She already knew how.”
“No fooling?” Greg went over to join them at the table.
“Haven’t you ever asked her to heel before?”
“Um…no.”
“Huh.” Corrine gave him a look that would have been mildly insulting if he didn’t deserve it. “Watch this.”
She put Belle through a series of tricks that, besides sit and heel, included shake, lie down and roll over.
“Wow. I’m impressed.” He was, as much with Corrine as the dog.
“Didn’t the people you got her from tell you she was trained?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
“Here.” Corrine passed him the twine. “You try.”
“Me?” He balked.
“Go on. It’s a leash, not a snake.”
“Yeah, Daddy,” Annie cheered, “it’s not a snake.”
“Fine.” Greg took the leash. “I’m perfectly capable of being goaded into something I don’t want to do.”
Her second sigh was a satisfied one. After both of them stood there for several seconds like bumps on a log, she said, “Give her a command.”
Since Belle was already sitting, he tried something different. “Stay.”
“You have to walk away.”
“I do?”
“First you tell her to stay, and then you step back. Haven’t you ever owned a dog before?”
“No. My dad didn’t like them, and I’ve been on the road pretty consistently since college.”
“I’m surprised you remember to feed her.”
“Belle’s pretty good about letting the nearest human being know she’s hungry.”
“I bet.” Corrine squared her shoulders, looking very much like the army officer she’d once been. “Now, repeat the command to stay and hold your hand up in front of you, palm facing out. Like this.” She demonstrated. “Then step away.”
Greg followed Corrine’s instructions to the letter. Or thought he did. Belle responded by lunging at him and jumping up on his leg.
“Down, Belle.” The dog ignored him. He repeated the command, only louder. If anything, Belle doubled her efforts.
“Ah-ah,” Corrine said sharply, and clapped.
Belle instantly stopped clawing Greg’s leg and swung her head around.
“Down.”
Belle dropped to the ground, sat and resumed panting.
“How did you do that?” Greg was in awe. Belle had been an incorrigible tyrant from the day they’d brought her home, and yet Corrine had the dog wrapped around her little finger.
“It’s not rocket science.”
“What is it, then?”
“Dogs respect authority and respond accordingly. You don’t have to be loud or mean or physical. Just firm.” Corrine bent to pat the dog’s head. “She wants to be good, and only misbehaves to get your attention. Now, try telling her to stay again. Only this time, be firm. And remember to reward her when she does what you want.”
To Greg’s delight, Belle stayed when he told her to and then waddled over when he said, “Come.” Next, he told her to sit. She did, and he scratched her ears. “Good girl.” Belle stared up at him with the same adoring expression she had with Corrine. “Unbelievable.”
“See? Not hard at all.”
“Can I try?” Annie asked.
“Me, too! Me, too!”
Greg handed the leash over to the kids, who busied themselves putting Belle through her paces.
“Thanks for not ripping into me when I got here,” he said. “I deserved it for allowing Belle to sneak off again.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“What’s this? Is Corrine Sweetwater getting lax about rules and regulations?”
“Not at all, mister, so don’t think you can get away with anything.” The humor in her voice belied her stern expression.
Greg was captivated. He’d missed Corrine this past week, and the closeness they’d shared. As much as he wanted to wrap her in a warm hug, he resisted. Her barricades might be weakening but he doubted she was ready to tear them down.
“I’m thinking there’s a lesson in all this for me.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Authority, respect, obedience. Not that I should treat Ben and Annie like a dog, but some of the same methods might succeed with them. I don’t have to yell at them to get them to listen and behave better.”
“The man can be taught.”
Corrine’s warm smile almost brought Greg to his knees. She really was something else. What he wouldn’t give for them to meet again in a different time and place, where they could continue what they’d started two weeks ago.
“Maybe the woman, too? You seem to have changed a little.”
“I have, I guess.”
“A full staff must have helped. I heard from Natalie you hired a new dishwasher.”
“That, and other things.”
His curiosity was piqued but he let her remark go. He was too busy thinking about what this recent softening in her demeanor could mean for him.
For them.
Chapter Nine
Corrine sat by herself at a picnic table in the outdoor dining area doing something she hadn’t since the day she’d arrived at Bear Creek Ranch—taking a short lunch break. Voluntarily. And—here was the big shocker—not feeling guilty about it.
She took a bite of her turkey sandwich and contemplated the changes that had come about recently, starting with the family meeting when she’d spilled her guts. The next day, a new whiteboard was hung on the wall by the supply room, tracking deliveries for two weeks. Her idea. Yesterday, they’d begun cross-training employees from housekeeping and maintenance to cover in the kitchen. Her mother’s idea. Lastly, they were about to implement an incentive program. Jake’s idea. More changes were being considered, but for now, the ball was rolling in the right direction.
A squeaky creak accompanied the back door swinging open, and Gerrie stepped outside. In one hand she carried a plastic cup, in the other a sandwich. A hair over five feet tall and slightly pudgy, she frequently joked that she was built for strength, not speed. Kicking the door shut with her foot, she walked toward Corrine. “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not.” Corrine forced herself to sit still. Otherwise, she might have reeled back in surprise. Since the night the staff left early without cleaning, Gerrie spoke to her only about work, only when necessary and went to great lengths to avoid being alone with her. Corrine pretended not to notice—and not to be hurt by the intentional slight. “There’s plenty of room.”
Rather than sit at one of the other tables, Gerrie slipped onto the bench across from Corrine and immediately bit into her sandwich. “I’m starving today.”
Corrine blinked. No, she wasn’t imagining it. Gerrie was actually eating a meal—with her.
“I’m hungry, too, for some reason.”
Actually, the reason wasn’t a mystery. Kitchen workers ate at odd hours, before or after the guests were served. Depending on when their shift started, there could be long stretches between breakfast, lunch and dinner.
A moment passed, then Gerrie asked, “Have you hired extra help for the tournament yet?”
“No. I posted ads in a few places but I’m not having much luck.” Because it was so unlike Gerrie to engage in casual conversation, Corrine couldn’t help being suspicious. “I might have to break down and call a temporary labor service. I’ve been avoiding that because their rates are high and will blow my budget.”
Gerrie took a sip of her soda. “You know I belong to Help for the Hungry.”
“I’ve heard you mention it once or twice, though I’m not sure exactly what they do.”
“Basically, we’re an organization that provides meals to homeless individuals or families who’ve fallen on difficult times and aren’t able to feed their children. Remember the flash flood we had last winter?”
“I wasn’t here but Mom emailed me about it.”
“Four families were literally washed out of their homes and left with nothing. The high school put them up in the gym for a few weeks until they were able to resettle, and Help for the Hungry made sure they had three squares a day.”
“Wow.”
“We also prepare a huge dinner every Sunday afternoon for the homeless or needy at the Grace Community Church. Anyone who shows up is welcome.”
“That’s really nice. And nice of you to participate.”
“I was, um, talking to the administrator of Help for the Hungry, and we came up with this…sort of plan.” Gerrie cleared her throat. “One that involves you and the ranch.”
“Oh, okay.”
Gerrie was probably going to ask the Tuckers to be a corporate sponsor. Or maybe seek permission for the organization to set up a table at the tournament. Corrine wasn’t against it. Her family was active in the community and frequently sponsored outreach programs. But she would have to go to Jake with any request.
“He and I were thinking that Help for the Hungry could supply you with six or eight of our volunteer workers for the weekend of the tournament,” Gerrie continued. “Enough to fill the temporary positions. And they’d work for free,” she added hastily.
“Free?” Not what Corrine had expected.
“All right, not exactly free. They’d work in exchange for a donation to the organization, either monetary or food.”
Corrine stared at Gerrie intently, her brow furrowed. “Are you serious?”
“Before you say no—”
“I think it’s a fabulous idea!”
“You do?”
“Yes.” Corrine placed both palms flat on the table. “It’s perfect.” She forgot entirely about eating her lunch and about her semi-feud with Gerrie. “I get the help I need, people who already know about food preparation and service and won’t require much training. Your organization gets a donation. And the ranch can write off the donation on the income taxes. Everybody wins.”
“Ah…yeah.” Gerrie wore the expression of someone who didn’t believe what she’d heard. She quickly recovered and broke into a wide grin. “So, you’ll consider our plan?”
“Consider it? I’m going to run over to the office right now and talk to Jake. I’m sure he’ll agree.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” Corrine stood, hopped over the bench seat and headed to the Dumpster, the same one the raccoon had raided the night she and Greg kissed, and disposed of her lunch remains. Her earlier hunger had been replaced by excitement. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Wait a minute.” Gerrie also stood, but with much less urgency. “Before you talk to Jake, there’s something you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“I…um…that night a few weeks ago.” She fidgeted, then blurted, “I’m the one responsible for leaving you to clean the kitchen alone. The staff had nothing to do with it.”
“I see.”
“I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. You didn’t deserve that.”
Corrine was speechless. Three times in the last ten minutes Gerrie had knocked her for a loop. Rather than feeling vindicated at having her suspicions confirmed, she felt only compassion for her assistant cook. Admitting wrong took courage as did apologizing. The least she could do was be gracious in return.
“Thanks for telling me.” She nodded. “And I accept your apology.”
“So, we’re good?”
“Sure.” Corrine smiled. “We’re good.”
“See you when you get back.” Gerrie sat back down, her posture drooping with obvious relief.
Corrine could relate. “I won’t be long.”
“No need to rush. I’ve got everything handled.”
For once Corrine had no doubts she’d return to a smoothly running kitchen.
She couldn’t remember the last time she went to see Jake with good news to report. Confidence brought a spring to her step, a smile to her face and hope that the remaining pieces of her life would soon start falling together as well.
“HEY, THERE!” Carolina breezed into the kitchen as if she owned the place. “Let’s go, little sis.”
Corrine shot her a look. “Go where?”
“The Hitching Post.”
She checked her watch. “It’s seven-twenty. Even if I wanted to go out for a beer, which I don’t, I can’t leave for another hour. And besides,” she added wearily, “I’m beat.”
“Of course you’re beat. You’ve been working seventy-hour weeks. Which is why you should leave now.”
“I can’t.”
“Nonsense. You’re the boss.” Carolina’s glance traveled the kitchen, encompassing the entire staff. Half of them were cleaning up from the dinner service, the other half prepping for breakfast the next morning. “You can manage without her the rest of the night, can’t you?”
“Okay by me,” Gerrie answered without the slightest trace of animosity. Jake’s wholehearted acceptance of her idea to use Help for the Hungry volunteers during the fishing tournament probably had a lot to do with it, as did her and Corrine’s newly mended fences. Amazing what a difference a single afternoon could make.
“Okay by me.” Luke echoed Gerrie’s sentiment, as did others.
“See?” Carolina lifted her hands in an oh-so-simple gesture. “The prisoners have freed the warden.”
The dig to her management style didn’t bother Corrine as much as it once would have.
“Go on, enjoy yourself.” Gerrie shoed Corrine away. “You deserve a night out.”
“I’d rather grab dinner someplace if you haven’t eaten already.” Bars and drinking had never been Corrine’s thing. In the army, her visits to the officers’ club were infrequent, usually to celebrate a birthday or promotion. “I’m not all that keen on the Hitching Post. Their food is pretty mediocre.”
“Who cares? It’s Thursday.”
“What does the day of the week have to do with their food?”
“Thursdays are family karaoke night.” Carolina’s grin went from elfish to devilish. She came up behind Corrine and hurried her along by untying her apron.
Corrine dug her heels firmly into the floor. “No.”
“Yes.”
“My hair’s a mess and my clothes are dirty.”
“We’ll stop by the cabin first.” Carolina was clearly on a mission. “You can change and put on some makeup.”
“You are not getting me up on any stage.”
“We’ll see.”
“I sing awful.”
“She’s not that bad.” Carolina looked over her shoulder and winked at the kitchen staff. “When we were kids, she used to sing in front of the mirror and record herself on her cassette tape player.”
“I think everyone here could have done without hearing that childhood memory.”
“Hey, I do that, too.” A round of laughter followed Luke’s admission. “What? Doesn’t everybody?”
“Yes, they do,” Carolina concurred. She’d maneuvered Corrine to within a few feet of the door. “Which is why karaoke is so popular. Singing well isn’t the point. Having fun is, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
Corrine didn’t know how her sister finally convinced her, but the next thing she knew, she’d changed clothes, put on some lipstick, and the two of them were cruising down the highway to Payson. The parking lot was packed when they arrived. Family karaoke night was obviously a popular and well-attended event. Some of Corrine’s anxiety dimmed. With this many people vying for mic time, the chances that her sister would try and force her to sing lessened.
“We may not get a table,” she hollered into Carolina’s ear as they entered the honky-tonk.
The music was loud, the singer ten decimals louder and slightly off-key. The crowd, which included people of all ages, pressed shoulder to shoulder, didn’t seem to mind, and applauded enthusiastically when he finished. Corrine decided the place wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated. With so many parents and kids present, and just as many soft drinks being served as alcoholic beverages, it felt more like a neighborhood party than a local bar and grill.
“This way.” Carolina grabbed Corrine’s hand. “I have a friend here. He saved us seats at his table.”
“What friend?” she asked, thinking it was someone from the Payson radio station, where her sister worked part-time.
“Over there!” She lead Corrine on a winding path among tables and chairs. Given the dim lighting, the multitude of patrons and Carolina’s bright pink cowboy hat, Corrine could see no farther than a few inches in front of her nose.
In the next instant, they reached one of the booths along the far wall.
“Hi,” Carolina said brightly, and with enough volume to be heard over the singer on stage. This one was belting out a halfway decent version of Keith Urban’s latest hit. “Sorry we’re late. Cinderella needed to get ready for the ball.” She turned and gently pushed Corrine toward the table. “Well, what are you waiting for? Sit.”
She couldn’t move. Her feet had become cemented to the floor the second she saw her sister’s “friend” and his two children.
“There’s plenty of room.” He scooted over, flashing his trademark lazy grin—the one that did funny things to her insides from the first moment they’d met.
