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“The man’s a quack,” Chase grumbled. “He claimed I had pneumonia, but it was nothing but a damned cold.”
The instant the diagnosis had been made Cat had appointed herself as his personal nurse and moved into The Homestead to care for him. Although Cat had never said so, Chase knew the move was to be a permanent one. Living in the ranch house she had once shared with Logan had proved to be too painful and too lonely. Truthfully, Chase welcomed her presence even if she fussed over him too much.
“It doesn’t matter whether it was pneumonia or a common cold, we still can’t risk a relapse,” Cat insisted, “not with the wedding coming up next week. You know how determined Laura is that you be the one who gives her away.”
At the mention of Laura, Chase suddenly noticed the lack of chattering voices and other sounds of the flurry of pre-wedding activity that had filled The Homestead these last few days. “Where is Laura?”
“Upstairs with Tara and the seamstress. They’re finishing up the final fitting.”
He frowned. “How come you aren’t up there with them?”
“I was. I just came down to check on you,” Cat replied with a kind of studied nonchalance and drifted over to the window as if drawn by the thickening curtain of white flakes. “The snow’s coming down a lot heavier. I hope the roads aren’t slick.”
Chase knew at once that the remark was more than just an idle one and guessed, “Quint went over to the Circle Six, did he?”
Cat hesitated fractionally, then nodded. “He wanted to check on the cattle—make sure there was enough hay out for them. I thought he’d be back by now,” she added with a faint note of worry.
The day after his father’s funeral Quint had handed in his letter of resignation. Chase wasn’t surprised by his decision. The boy had always had a strong sense of duty, and there wasn’t any doubt that Cat had needed him desperately in those first months following Logan’s death.
“Quint’s never been the kind to take unnecessary risks.” Chase said to allay her concern. “If the roads are bad, he’ll just stay at the ranch.” After a slight pause, he added. “It’s natural to worry about him. All parents worry about their children, whether they’re four years old or forty. But you can’t continue to lean on Quint. It isn’t healthy for either of you.”
“I know,” Cat admitted on a faint sigh.
Chase was about to say more when an upstairs door opened and the house echoed with the sound of multiple footsteps and feminine chatter. He listened to it flow down the staircase and arched an amused glance at his daughter.
“With Laura in the house, the quiet couldn’t last.” He knew he’d miss the noise when she moved to England.
“How true,” Cat agreed and moved away from the window. “A snowy afternoon like this seems to call for a cup of hot cocoa. Would you like me to fix you one?”
“I’d rather have coffee.” Chase replied.
“I’ll bring you a cup.” She crossed to the doorway and paused there, her attention transfixed on something in the living room. “Laura,” she murmured, the single word conveying a wealth of utter appreciation and approval.
“Is Gramps in the den?” The familiar voice of his granddaughter reached his ears.
Chase spoke up before Cat could answer. “I’m here.”
“Close your eyes, Gramps. I have something I want to show you,” Laura said.
The beginnings of a small smile edged the corners of his mouth. “I think it might be hard to see it if I close my eyes.”
“Very cute,” Laura chided with affection. “Just cover your eyes and I’ll tell you when you can look. Let me know when he’s ready, Aunt Cat,” she added.
Realizing that Laura was determined to have it her way, as usual, Chase chose to indulge her whim and placed a hand over his eyes. Almost immediately light footsteps approached the den’s entrance, accompanied by the soft rustle of fabric.
“You can look now, Gramps.”
He lowered his hand and beheld the vision of his granddaughter poised in the doorway and dressed in a wedding gown of white satin. Its line was simple but incredibly elegant, with long, flowing sleeves and an artful studding of pearls. She was all beauty and grace, a sight that caused a swelling of pride in his chest.
“I wanted you to see me in the gown I’ll be wearing at our ceremony in Scotland,” Laura exclaimed, careful not to make any direct reference to the fact that he wouldn’t be present. It was the consensus that the trip would be too long and hard for him at his advanced age. “What do you think? Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, of course, but”—Chase frowned—“are you saying you have two wedding gowns?”
“Really Gramps, I can’t have Sebastian seeing me in the same one twice. It just isn’t done,” Laura chided. “Besides, since the wedding will take place in Skibo Castle, I thought I should wear something with a slightly medieval look.”
“Having two gowns is as foolish as having two weddings,” he grumped. “One should be good enough.”
“Now, Gramps, we’ve been through all that.” With an indulgent smile, she glided across the room to his chair and sat sideways on the arm of it, facing him. “It simply wasn’t feasible for Sebastian’s family and friends to fly over here for the wedding. There wouldn’t have been enough room to put them all up.” She lightly smoothed his coarse gray hair. “And nearly every Calder bride has been married right here in the den. I couldn’t very well break that tradition, now could I?”
