Taking on Twins, page 3
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
He began to have doubts and checked the cabin again. It looked quiet and peaceful. Still, he said, “I should get back.”
“Your dog’s not on a leash.” Corrine frowned.
Irresponsible father, irresponsible pet owner. One more strike and he’d be out.
“Sorry.” He removed the leash from his back pocket.
Before he could attach it to Belle’s collar, the dog shot between Corrine’s legs in hot pursuit of another squirrel. This one also won the race. Greg chased after Belle and caught her a good twenty feet up the trail. When he looked back, Corrine was leaving.
“See you at dinner,” he called, again enjoying the view.
“It’s my day off.” She pressed a button on her wrist monitor and set off at a fast walk. “Don’t forget to keep your dog on a leash,” she warned, before disappearing into a thick stand of trees.
Greg tried not to dwell on his disappointment. Turning around, he went back to the cabin. After Corrine’s not-so-subtle reprimand, he half expected to find Ben and Annie missing, abducted by a crazed kidnapper. He could already hear Leah’s screech of alarm when he phoned her.
What he discovered when he opened the cabin door wasn’t reason enough to call the authorities, but it wasn’t good, either.
His sleep-in-till-ten children had risen early. The cabin’s small living room resembled a war zone. Every article of clothing they’d packed, every shoe, every toy, every toiletry, was strewn about, hanging off furniture, dropped in corners and dangling from lamp shades. Streams of toilet paper crisscrossed the floors. Sheets of paper—his latest script?—had been crumpled into balls.
Greg grumbled to himself. Corrine had been right; he shouldn’t have left Ben and Annie alone.
Belle rushed inside to investigate a toppled over trash can.
“Hey, guys,” he said into the empty room. “Where are you?”
Two small faces peaked out from behind the tiny kitchenette counter.
Greg swallowed the anger surging inside him. “Let’s get this cleaned up or you won’t go horseback riding today.”
“You’re not going to yell at us?” Ben asked, his expression wary.
“No.”
“Really?” He and Annie crept slowly out from behind the counter.
“Really.” Greg hadn’t lashed out at anyone since he was seventeen, nor would he. Especially his children.
He’d grown up with a father who hadn’t known how to speak to his family in a normal tone of voice. His hair-trigger temper had ruined any possibility for a loving and healthy relationship with those around him, and had ultimately ended his life at the much too early age of forty-nine.
All these years later, Greg had yet to forgive himself for being the one to cause his father’s death.
CORRINE DIDN’T LIKE using the phone in the kitchen. As a warrant officer, she’d had her own office, small though it was, and grown accustomed to conducting business in private. Since there were no empty offices in the main lodge, she made her calls from Jake’s. Alice would buzz Corrine in the kitchen and let her know when Jake was at lunch or out on appointments. While not perfect, the system worked.
She left the kitchen and cut across a narrow patch of grass separating the dining hall from the main lodge. The air, a temperate seventy-four degrees according to the thermometer, felt refreshing after the sweltering kitchen. On the main road, a long string of horses walked, wranglers leading the guests on a trail ride. A rowdy game of shuffleboard was under way in the court next to the pool. The activity was good to see after the decrease of guests in recent months. While reservations were steady, according to Alice’s latest report, they were still short of the family’s goal. Greg Pfitser’s presence and the tournament would, they all hoped, change that.
Corrine sighed as she hurried along. Her so-called day off had thus far consisted of helping with the breakfast cleanup and making yet another switch in the day’s menu. Seems no one had bothered with the egg count the last two days. Not only would tuna sandwiches be substituted for egg salad at lunch. Corrine would also need to decide what to substitute for omelets at tomorrow’s breakfast.
She mentally ticked off her list of calls to make. First, the ice cream vender, to find out what had happened to their shipment. Next, a rush order for an extra hundred dozen eggs. Last, contacting the nearby community college and posting an ad with student resources for a dishwasher.
The problems she experienced at her family’s ranch were nothing like those she’d had in the army. Resolving them wasn’t the same, either. She kept telling herself it shouldn’t be so hard. But it was and that frustrated her. If only civilian life were more like the service.
If only she could change to fit her new—make that old—surroundings.
When she pushed open the door to the main lobby, a bell overhead tinkled. For as long back as Corrine could remember, a bell heralded the arrival of visitors to the historic guest ranch nestled at the base of the Matazal Mountains.
“Hi, how’s it going?” Natalie, their manager of guest services, greeted Corrine from behind the front desk. “All right.”
“Jake’s still in his office if that’s where you’re heading.”
“Oh.” Corrine paused just inside the long pine counter with its beveled edges and beautifully engraved scrollwork. “Alice called me and said he was leaving.”
“That was before one of the maintenance guys reported a broken pipe in cabin eleven. The bathroom’s apparently flooded.”
“What about the guests?”
“Luckily, the water had only reached the hall before we stopped it. None of their stuff was touched.”
“Good.” Corrine studied the charmingly appointed lobby with its green checkered curtains, polished hardwood floors and braided area rugs. Most people would relish sitting and relaxing for a few minutes in one of the overstuffed couches. She wasn’t most people. “I think I’ll head back to the kitchen. Can you give me a holler when he leaves?”
She no sooner spoke than Jake came out of his office, briefcase in hand, cowboy hat on his head. “Hey,” he said upon spotting her. “What’s up?”
“Just came by to borrow your office. I need to make some calls.”
“Isn’t this your day off?”
“It was.” She rounded the counter and headed toward him. “But like you, I can’t seem to break away.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t get any days off in the army.” He held his office door open and waited for her to enter ahead of him.
“Of course I did. But I also had competent and dependable help to cover for me.” Too late, she realized her slip. A backward glance over her shoulder confirmed that Natalie had heard the unkind remark. Corrine groaned inwardly.
She and Natalie were friends, or had been. Natalie’s parents were hired by Corrine’s grandfather over thirty years ago. She and Natalie had grown up on the ranch together and were classmates all through school until Corrine left for college. When Natalie’s mother retired a few years ago, about the same time Corrine began her second tour in the Middle East, Natalie took over the position as manager of guest amenities.
Last year, she had met and fallen in love with Aaron Reyes when he came to the ranch. The former National Rodeo champion was left widowed when his wife, Jake’s sister, had died accidentally. Aaron had recently adopted Natalie’s young daughter from a previous relationship.
Like many employees, Natalie’s loyalty to the Tuckers ran deep, and not just because of her job. But despite her outward friendliness, Corrine had noticed a change in their former relationship. Disparaging remarks probably didn’t help.
Work, she thought glumly, wasn’t the only place she needed to modify her techniques. Her social skills were pretty rusty, too.
“You want some coffee?” Jake asked.
“Thanks, but I already had a cup.”
He motioned to the couch along the far wall.
“What about the broken pipe?”
“It’s handled. I delegated. You should, too.”
Corrine pulled her legs under her and wedged her back in the corner cushion, not liking the vulnerable feeling coming over her. Maintaining control was easy around anyone except family. They brought out the worst and—she couldn’t deny it—the best in her.
“What’s wrong now?” Jake asked, not unsympathetically, as he settled in his chair. “It’s Gerrie.”
“She’s a good assistant cook.”
“In your opinion.”
“She’s been with us a long time. She knows her job. Don’t take this as criticism, but maybe you should start trusting her to do it instead of always peering over her shoulder.”
How was Corrine supposed to take what he said other than as criticism?
“I’d stop peering so much if she was on the ball. Two-thirds of the calls I’m making this morning are to fix her screwups.”
Jake leaned back, clasped his hands behind his head and rested his boots on the coffee table. “The kitchen is yours to run, and I’m not going to tell you how to do it. But as operations manager, I am going to make periodic suggestions that I hope you’ll consider.”
This was the strictest approach he’d taken with her since her return, and it showed Corrine just how poorly she was doing.
Her shoulders involuntarily slumped. It shouldn’t be this way. She was competent and capable, and had a list of commendations three pages long. She oftentimes set the bar others aspired to reach, one of her superiors had commented during a performance evaluation.
Fat lot of good all those kudos did her now.
“Gerrie has a problem with follow-up,” Corrine stated, coming to her own defense. “And with authority. All the employees do.”
“No, they just have a problem with your style of authority.”
“Olivia was tough,” Corrine said, referring to her predecessor and one-time role model.
After more than two decades as kitchen manager, Olivia Hernandez had retired. Her announcement came about the same time Corrine was considering not reenlisting, and felt a little like destiny.
“Olivia was tough,” Jake concurred. “But only when people weren’t doing their jobs.”
“Well, I have people not doing their jobs.”
“You have a staff adapting to change. A rocky transition is sometimes part of the process.” He cleared his throat. “Losing dishwashers right and left isn’t helping. It’s not good for morale and not good for you. You need a day off now and then.”
Corrine frowned. Of all the adjustments to civilian life she’d anticipated, difficulty performing her job wasn’t one of them.
“I don’t want Gerrie to quit,” Jake said. “You hear me? You need to make this work.”
For a second, he’d sounded so much like her former commanding officer that Corrine was tempted to answer, “Yes, sir.”
“Fine.”
“And I don’t want you to quit, either,” he added. “You’re not just the new kitchen manager, you’re family.”
If he thought she was about to let a minor personnel problem run her off the ranch, then he really didn’t know her well. He certainly didn’t realize the level of her commitment and determination. Corrine hadn’t risen in rank because she was afraid to meet challenges. She’d risen in rank because she met and overcame them.
She would meet and overcome this challenge, too.
“Promise me when you’re done with your phone calls, you’ll take a break from the kitchen.”
She shrugged in reply.
“I want you to give Greg Pfitser and his children a tour of the ranch.”
Corrine sat bolt upright. “I thought Natalie was going to do that.”
“She was. But when I contacted Greg, he asked if we could reschedule for after lunch. Something apparently came up with the kids. He wasn’t specific.”
It was on the tip of Corrine’s tongue to ask why Natalie couldn’t also reschedule, but she refrained.
Jake evidently picked up on her unspoken question, for he said, “We have a number of check-ins arriving this afternoon and no one to cover the front desk.”
Corrine silently fumed. She really didn’t want to give Greg Pfitser and his children a tour of the ranch, and considered making up something about a previous commitment. But she knew Jake would see through her ruse.
She hadn’t had a “commitment” outside work since returning to the ranch. Hadn’t looked up old school pals and gotten together. Hadn’t rented her own place in town. Hadn’t even purchased a car. And she certainly hadn’t dated.
No wonder Greg Pfitser made her uncomfortable. Her social skills weren’t so rusty that she didn’t recognize attraction when it followed her across a crowded dining room or up a wooded trail, as his eyes did. She tried to remember the last time a man had stared at her with undisguised interest.
Hector.
The answer came to her immediately, but she pushed it out of her mind. Memories of him were too painful to dwell on.
“He may not need a tour of the ranch,” she said referring to Greg. “I ran into him this morning during my run, and he seemed to be finding his way around with no problem.”
“I want him and his kids to feel welcomed.” Jake sat up, plopping his boots on the floor.
“He was walking his dog without a leash.”
“You say that like he was caught breaking into a guest’s cabin.”
“The dog got into the kitchen yesterday.”
“I heard. He told us about it at dinner last night and apologized.”
Her cousin’s nonchalance bothered Corrine. “Do you know what’ll happen if someone reports us to the health department? The dog needs to be kept on a leash.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“And you’re making light of my concerns, which I think are valid.” Corrine pushed herself to her feet, irritation vanquishing her earlier feeling of vulnerability. “The kitchen, this entire ranch, is important to me. I appreciate everything Greg Pfitser can do for us, the increased business his TV show and the fishing tournament will bring. But we can’t give him the run of the place, allow him to break rules that were established for the safety and well-being of our guests, just because he’s a minor celebrity.”
“Wow.” Jake gawked at her.
Corrine realized with a touch of embarrassment that she’d come close to having an outburst. She lowered her gaze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to rant.”
“I like that you’re loyal to the family and looking out for us.” He also stood and adjusted his hat. “It makes insisting you take the Pfitsers on that tour easier.”
“Jake.” She wouldn’t refuse him. It wasn’t in her nature to disobey. But for once, she wished someone would understand her reservations without her having to explain.
“Do it for the family.” He hooked an arm around her neck and tugged her against his chest, much as he’d done when she was a kid and he the older, wiser, annoying-big-brother-ish cousin. “Please.”
“You’re choking me,” she complained.
“Come on,” Jake cajoled. “You’re the only family member free today. And besides, it’ll do you some good to get out with people besides us.”
“Okay.” Corrine relented, not because she’d changed her mind but because it was her duty.
And duty was something she related to, something she used to hold the pieces of her life together when it was falling apart, like it had eighteen months ago.
Everyone thought her decision not to re-up, not to put in her twenty, was so she could return home to Arizona and help with the family business, filling a vital position left void by the departing kitchen manager. It was the reason she gave and one that people didn’t question.
It was also a bald-faced lie.
Chapter Three
Corrine halted in midstep at the sound of something heavy hitting the water.
Ben stood by the edge of the pool, his expression a mixture of guilt and defiance. Annie, his ever present shadow, huddled behind him.
Corrine waited for Greg to scold his children. It didn’t happen. Ben tossed another rock into the pool. She bit her tongue.
“Don’t do that, Ben,” Greg said. The warning, too little too late, in Corrine’s opinion, was delivered as casually as a comment on the weather. “Is the pool heated?” He peered into the turquoise-blue water, at the bottom of which now sat two large rocks.
Where had Ben got them? He must have taken them from one of the planters near the chaise longues.
“Not during the summer,” she answered, still distracted. Should she get the pool skimmer and make Ben retrieve the rock, or let Maintenance do it? “The Jacuzzi is, however.” It was then she heard the unmistakable ping, ping, ping of a stick being banged on the wrought-iron fence.
Ben and Annie were at it again.
Corrine had reached her limit. So far, the children had touched everything, gone everywhere and done everything they were told not to. Badminton birdies had wound up in the gutter, horseshoes were lost in the bushes and muddy footprints covered the lobby floor. Now, rocks were in the pool and, possibly, chips in the recently painted fence. And they were only ninety minutes into the tour of the ranch.
Through all the children’s misbehaving, Greg had done nothing. Okay, not nothing, but Corrine didn’t count a quiet, “Come on, you two,” as taking action. She thought of the horseback ride coming up later and shuddered. Those poor horses. Those poor guests!
She, thank goodness, wouldn’t be there to see. Once she dropped the Pfitsers off at the stables, she’d be done with them. Hopefully, for good. Maybe the wranglers could get the children to behave. Their father certainly couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.
“Do you ever use the Jacuzzi?”
Greg’s question had Corrine shaking her head to clear it. “No.”
“That’s a shame.”
She tensed, not sure how to interpret his remark. Was he flirting with her or simply making casual conversation?
“What would you like to see next?”
He straightened to his full height. At five-eight, Corrine was no shorty. Greg had a good six inches on her and gave her the rare sensation of being petite.
