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A fuzzy image flickered in his mind’s eye, indistinct, yet enough to stir him. “It would be different than any sale barn I saw,” he conceded.
“That’s an understatement,” Tara said with a laugh. “Most of them are little more than huge metal sheds. They have no charm, no character at all. This will be a sensation that will have everybody buzzing. Anyone who fails to attend your first auction will definitely not miss the next one.” Tara slipped an arm around him as naturally as if they were still married. “If there’s one thing I learned from Daddy, it’s that success in business requires more than an excellent product. Equally important is the image of the product that you project to the public. In other words, it’s how you wrap it.”
“It’s all about marketing,” Ty agreed.
“Am I forgiven for barging in, then?” Tara had a way of looking up at him from below her lashes that aroused a man’s senses.
Ty became aware of the warmth of her body pressed along his length and rounded imprint of her breast against his arm. The pull of the past was strong, reminding him of a time when loving her had been a habit. And one that seemed much too easy to resume.
Gently but firmly, he untangled himself from her encircling arm, putting a little distance between them. “There’s nothing to forgive. It remains to be seen whether this barn can be converted into an auction facility.”
After spending the better part of an hour poking in corners, clambering up the crude ladder to the hayloft and surveying the outer perimeter, the young architect’s verdict was favorable.
“So far,” he told Chase and Ty, “I haven’t found a single thing that would lead me to believe it can’t be done. It’s a grand old barn.” There was genuine fondness in the sweeping glance he gave it. “It’ll be a real challenge. I’ll have to do some research to get a clear picture of the specific needs you’ll have before I can start any design work.” He paused a beat and focused a questioning look on Chase. “I don’t suppose you have any as-built blueprints of the barn.”
“Not hardly.”
“That’s what I figured.” He dragged in a deep breath and let it sigh out. “I’ll need to create one. Which means I’ll have to measure every inch of it. Usually I have a couple of assistants to help with something like this.”
“I’m sure it can be arranged to have a couple of ranch hands help you,” Tara inserted then added, “assuming, that is, that you want Noah to go forward?”
In theory, Ty much preferred remodeling the existing barn than building a new structure. But he had learned during their marriage just how expensive Tara’s tastes could be, and the steep fees that were charged by the professionals she hired.
“Before we give Mr. Richardson the go-ahead, we’ll need to sit down with him and discuss exactly what this design work will cost.”
“Of course,” Tara demurred.
“That’s fine with me, too. It’s just”—the architect hesitated—“you do realize that getting all the measurements on this old barn will be considerably more than a two or three hour job.”
Only Tara expressed surprise at his statement.
“Really?”
“Oh, it’ll easily take a full day. And”—he glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist—“half of this one is already gone.”
“I am so sorry.” Tara turned to Ty and Chase with a look of earnest apology. “I’m afraid I’ll have to impose on you further. The company house in Blue Moon is occupied, and there simply isn’t any other place we can stay—unless we can spend the night here.”
Irritation flickered through Ty. Tara knew as well as he did that a visitor was never turned away from their door. It was one of the unwritten codes.
“Not a problem,” Chase replied. “We have plenty of room at The Homestead. We’ll arrange for your luggage to be brought from the plane.”
“I do appreciate this, Chase,” Tara smiled, “especially because it gives me a chance to see the twins.”
In The Homestead’s old kitchen, Jessy sat close to the highchair and scooped up another small spoonful of cereal to feed her son. Trey immediately grabbed for it, interested not in the spoon, but in getting his fingers in the cereal. There was more cereal smeared over his face, hands, and hair, not to mention the high chair, than had made its way into his mouth.
She caught at his grabbing hand and held it out of the way while she carried the spoon to his mouth. Straining, he turned his face away from it, babbling a protest.
Jessy drew the spoon back. “You do realize that your sister has already gotten her bottle, don’t you, Trey?” She made another attempt to feed him, but it was no more successful than the first. “Not hungry, huh.” Setting the baby spoon and small cereal bowl on the table, she picked up a wet washcloth and wiped his face and hands, then lifted him out of the high chair. “What you really need is another bath, little boy,” she chided and tickled his tummy. He squirmed in her arms, gurgling with laughter.
“Hellooo!” The seeking call came from the entry hall.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Jessy yelled back, and shifted Trey onto a hip while she set about wiping up the worst of the cereal from the high chair before it hardened into concrete.
The big house echoed with the approaching jangle of spurs and the heavy clump of booted feet on the hardwood floors. Jessy looked up from her work when they reached the kitchen doorway. Dick Ballard stood in the opening, a simple canvas duffel bag hanging from a shoulder strap and two, huge expensive suitcases weighing down his hands. Jessy knew immediately that the suitcases were Tara’s. From that, it was easy to surmise that Tara was spending the night.
“I was told to bring these suitcases from the plane,” Ballard began, then stopped and frowned. “What’s she doing here anyway?”
It was a direct question he wouldn’t have put to either Ty or Chase. Jessy may have married into the Calder family, but in the eyes of the ranch hands and their families, she was still one of them. They felt comfortable saying things to her that they would never dream of uttering in front of Ty or Chase.
