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Jessy paused to chase a fly away from the edge of a cellophane-covered dish. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small hand reaching into the potato-chip bowl.
“No snacking before mealtime,” she admonished, quick to intervene. At gatherings the size of this one, everybody parented everybody else’s child.
“But I’m hungry.” The Simmons boy scowled in protest.
“Have a carrot.” She took a stick from one of the many relish trays and handed it to him.
He took it, mumbled a disgruntled “thanks” and walked off, none too happy with a carrot but resigned that it was the best he could do. Automatically Jessy scanned the crowd for a glimpse of the twins. She quickly spotted Trey twirling his rope a few yards from Chase. Since Chase had returned, Trey had rarely let him out of his sight.
Jessy’s gaze made another sweep over the area, but failed to locate Laura among the scattering of blond heads. If Trey had come up missing, she wouldn’t have been surprised, but she had never known Laura to wander off.
Deciding that she must be somewhere around the gazebo, Jessy started in that direction and met Amy Trumbo making her way back to the food tables. “By any chance, have you seen Laura?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t.” But the question prompted Amy to start looking for her. “Here she comes.” She pointed toward the area east of the barn that had been transformed into a parking lot.
Jessy turned, her glance instantly lighting on Laura’s familiar blond curls as she happily skipped alongside Tara. Buck Haskell trailed both of them, toting a large basket and an insulated jug. Other men had trailed their wives, laden with dishes. Yet there was something in the way Tara carried herself that made it clear this man worked for her, thus turning a simple arrival into an entrance.
As usual, Tara looked the picture of high fashion in designer sunglasses and a halter-style sundress, her black hair sleeked away from her face and secured at the nape of her neck with a filmy chiffon scarf. And there was Laura, taking it all in.
Jessy wondered how the woman had the gall to show up at the barbecue after all she had done to undermine her position. But gall was something Tara had in abundance.
“What a marvelous party, Jessy.” Tara made a regal survey of the scene. “It has been ages since this place was so decorative and festive. This reminds me of all the parties Ty and I used to throw here.”
“You’ll find this one is much more simple. We didn’t import a chef or hire a catering staff for it.” The jibe was smoothly delivered, but effective just the same.
“What a pity,” said Tara with acid sweetness. “I would have thought Chase’s return would warrant such a special effort.”
“In this case, the ranch hands are the ones who are giving the party. And they are doing it from their hearts, not their wallets. It makes it that much more special,” Jessy informed her. “Which is something you never quite understood.”
“Whereas you always have, haven’t you? After all, you were born and raised here.” Tara’s smile was all saccharine.
But Jessy took little notice of it. Laredo had moved into her line of vision. With a lifting tilt of his head, he signaled that Markham had arrived. Jessy glanced toward the barn and ranch yard, seeking to locate him.
She was quick to spot him. Never one to blend in, Monte sported a crisp white polo shirt, khaki-colored Bermuda shorts, matching socks, loafers, and aviator glasses, attire that guaranteed he would stand out in the sea of cowboy hats, blue jeans, and boots. Again Monte carried the same oversized hamper that he had brought to their picnic a few days earlier.
“What is it?” Curious to learn what had caught Jessy’s attention, Tara turned to look. “It’s Monte.” Raising her hand, she gave him a cheery wave. When he altered his course toward them, Tara murmured to Jessy, “How nice that you also invited some civilized guests.”
Tired of trading insults with the woman, Jessy ignored the remark and concentrated on Monte. A new tension strung her nerves.
After the usual exchange of greetings, which Tara managed to monopolize, Monte scanned the crowd. “Where is our guest of honor?”
“The last time I saw him he was over by the cottonwoods talking to the Garveys.” Jessy nodded in that general direction.
“I see him,” Monte confirmed.
“Isn’t it amazing to have him with us again?” Tara said. “I know everyone is greatly relieved that he’s once more in charge of the ranch.” She glanced pointedly at Jessy. “Well, perhaps not everyone. After all, Jessy did lose her job. But I’m sure she will adjust to taking orders again, instead of being the one to give them.”
“Knowing Jessy, I am certain it will be an easy adjustment,” Monte stated with total unconcern.
“Of course,” Tara murmured, making it clear she retained her skepticism. Chin high, she turned to Jessy. “Buck has a few items I had my chef prepare. I’ll have him leave them with you. But I see these tables seem to be strictly for food. Where are the drinks?”
“Over there.” Jessy gestured to the beer kegs. “There is beer on tap, and the stock tank is filled with a variety of sodas on ice.”
“Is that all?” Tara managed to inject a wealth of criticism in the phrase. In an exaggerated Texas drawl, she added, “Honey, don’t you know that a barbecue isn’t complete without a jug of margaritas? How fortunate that I brought one.” She made a graceful turn to the patiently waiting Buck Haskell. “Let me have the jug so I can personally deliver this much needed addition to the bar.” He surrendered it into her care without a word. “I’ll see you in a bit, Monte,” Tara promised and swept away while Amy Trumbo relieved Buck of the other items he carried.
“Tara is in fine form today, isn’t she,” Monte remarked dryly. “But jealousy rarely allows a person to hold their tongue.”
“I don’t think I’ll comment on that,” Jessy replied, aware that his observation was much too true, and focused on the picnic hamper. “Obviously you brought more food for us.”
