Mistletoe Twins

Fat chance.

“Is Mac staying to run the Double M?” Victoria ignored Adele’s hiss of irritation. “What? I’m just wondering, like everyone else in Chokecherry Hollow.”

“And you think I have the answer? I don’t know Mac’s future plans. I’m not sure he does, either.” Adele checked on the French bread she’d set to rise earlier and decided it was ready to form. “If he has decided, he has not told me,” she added firmly as she greased the bread pans.

“Since when doesn’t Mac McDowell talk everything over with you?” Victoria held up both hands at Adele’s glare. “Okay, ’nuff said. Except—I’m guessing Mac’s the reason you didn’t offer me that last piece of pumpkin pie sitting in the fridge. And here I thought our sister bond was strong.” Laughing, she strolled out of the room to answer a call from her husband, Ben.

With a grimace directed at her back, Adele shaped the bread into two pans, then began mixing dressing for the coleslaw she’d make when Jake, The Haven’s hired man, returned from the cold cellar with one of her aunt’s prized cabbages. Finished with her immediate task, she took a moment to savor the aroma-filled kitchen where she’d first learned to cook.

How blessed she’d been to live here with her foster aunts. They’d striven so hard to help her shed her bitterness against parents who’d lied to her about everything, including the visitor to their home that long-ago day, never explaining that she and Gina would be taken into foster care—permanently.

The aunties’ love and security had soothed those wounds. That healing love was what she wanted for the twins.

Adele roused from her gloomy thoughts as Mac opened the back door and ushered Franklyn and Francie inside. She loved the sound of the children’s laughter, and naturally Mac did everything he could to provoke more of it. It was refreshing to see him so engaged with kids again. In the old days he’d spoken often of his desire for a big family. But he’d mentioned nothing about a girlfriend. Was there now someone special in Mac’s world?

She peeked into the pail Mac held out. “Thanks.”

“Jake said you can use them. I’d spare you and take these weeds home to my mother but then she’d make something with them and I’d have to eat it.” He looked dubious.

“Not weeds. Basil, dill and parsley are always useful in my kitchen.” Since Mac’s grin did funny things to Adele’s stomach, she turned away to rinse the herbs before storing them in a drying dish. “Did you two have fun?”

It was obvious from the children’s excited chatter that they had.

“We found punkins,” Franklyn exclaimed.

“How many?” Adele asked.

“Tons and tons.” Francie waved her hands wildly.

“How many did you find, Francie?” Adele prodded, arching an eyebrow.

“Three,” the little girl admitted with a sigh.

“’Nuff so you c’n make punkin pie again?” Franklyn hinted hopefully, then high-fived Mac.

“Because everyone needs more pie right after our Thanksgiving feast?” Adele shot Mac a look, certain he’d come up with that plan.

“Uh-huh. Mac says everybody needs more pie all the time.” Franklyn nodded, unabashed.

“Does he?” She angled him a look. “Well, good work finding those pumpkins. Now you two go and wash up. Aunt Tillie and Aunt Margaret are waiting to tell you the next installment of their story about Africa.” She watched them leave, a happy glow inside. So far, Adele was loving motherhood.

“They’re cute, those two. But they sure keep a guy on his toes.” Mac sat down with a sigh and flexed his leg.

“Are you in pain?” Adele studied his face, wondering how she could help.

“No. Just a little stiff. I tried riding this morning.” Mac’s face gave nothing away.

“Great!” Riding was a sign he was staying, wasn’t it? “And?”

“No big deal. Cowboys ride and I am just a cowboy after all.” His wink reminded her of a long-ago argument when she’d given vent to her frustration at his show-off tendencies.

“And as you replied, I’m just a cook,” she reminded with a cheeky grin. Then she added, “Of course it’s a big deal that you got back on a horse, Mac.” Another thought occurred. “Did riding help you decide anything?”

“Adele.” His glower scolded her. “I haven’t decided anything yet, even though my parents are as eager as you to know if I’ll take over running the place. Dad wants to retire.”

“I saw him in town. He looked tired,” she murmured sympathetically.

“He has to slow down and it’s obvious he can’t do that as long as they live on the ranch because he won’t leave anything to their hired man, who is eminently capable.” Mac raked his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “Me—take over the ranch—I don’t know.” His troubled sigh touched her.

“What concerns you most?” She could at least encourage him to talk about his fears.

“It’s a total life change.”

“Because you’ll miss flying.” She nodded.

“It’s not just that. You of all people should know that I haven’t been the most stable guy in the world. I wasn’t very good at after-school jobs, remember?”

“Because you wanted to be on the ranch.” She waited, knowing there was more.

“I also dumped college, remember?” His mouth tipped down in a self-deprecating frown. “And I blew my last job. But I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down yet.”

“You had to be responsible when you were flying, Mac,” she reminded. Something in his expression altered. Was it her reminder about flying? “Anyway, you just said the Double M has a capable ranch manager in Gabe Webber. He knows as much about ranching as your dad. Can’t you leave most of the routine stuff up to him? Isn’t that why ranchers have hired men?”

“I guess. You make it sound like I don’t even really need to be there.” Her bestie didn’t look at her, so Adele knew there was something else.

“Talk to me, Mac.”

“You’ve changed since you left The Haven, Delly.” Those gorgeous eyes of his seemed sad. “You’ve matured. I’m not sure I have. Not enough.”

“Why do you say that?” Surprised to see Mac fiddle with a napkin, she pressed him. “How have I matured? Do I look old?” Her glance in the kitchen mirror produced a laugh from Mac.

“No! But you’re more focused, more determined than before. Your plan took a hit with your breakup, but you haven’t given up. You’re going after a new dream. I don’t even have a dream.” His grin was wry.

“So dream one.”

“I wish I could. It’s just—flying is like living life on the edge,” he mused aloud, struggling to give words to his feelings. “If things get too boring or too staid I might regret taking on the Double M, or worse, make a mess of it, which will then make my parents ashamed of me.”

“Like that would ever happen. They’re so proud of you,” she praised. “And don’t think I have all the answers or any cast-in-stone plans. All I know is I can’t give up my motherhood dream.” Confused by Mac’s now-glowering look she asked, “Tell me about flying your jets. What was it like?”

Immediately his slouch disappeared. His backbone straightened and his shoulders came to attention. His turquoise eyes sparkled with excitement, as if someone had switched on a light inside him.

“Oh, Delly, it’s amazing. There’s such freedom—nothing’s scripted. You have to think fast and improvise to survive. When I’m soaring through the clouds I feel like I can handle anything. And then I land.” Just as suddenly the light in him was snuffed out. “I guess I’m addicted to that adrenaline rush.”

“You don’t think you’ll find that on the Double M?” Oh, Lord, how can I help him?

“Maybe I could.” He didn’t sound convinced. “If I hadn’t lost my hand or injured my leg.”

“Did you feel a thrill like that when you lived here before?” she wondered aloud.