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“Is Trey aware of that?”
“Of course.” But Sloan was forced to admit, if only to herself, that the subject hadn’t been discussed; it was something she had simply taken for granted.
“Interesting,” Tara murmured with a touch of drollness.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sloan found it increasingly difficult to keep her temper in check.
“Nothing really,” Tara replied with feigned innocence. “It’s just that the Calders have always been very old-fashioned in their thinking when it comes to women.”
Sloan smiled with considerable pleasure. “I think you’ve forgotten that Jessy runs the Triple C.”
One shoulder lifted in a dismissive and graceful motion. “She’s little more than a figurehead. Chase still calls the shots around here.”
As much as Sloan wanted to refute that claim, she knew she was far from knowledgeable on the subject. A claim of ignorance could no longer be made when it came to Tara, however; Sloan knew exactly why no one in the family could stand her. The woman was absolutely maddening and insufferable.
Seeking to break off the exchange with Tara, Sloan turned to the designer. “Would you like to see th
e bedroom now?”
“In a minute.” He was crouched next to a baseboard, using his fingers to push back the carpet pile at its edge. “Am I wrong to assume that, like the rest of the house, there is hardwood flooring underneath the carpet?”
“It seems likely, but I don’t personally know that,” Sloan admitted.
Not to be ignored, Tara interposed, “Carpeting is completely out of style. Even if this one wasn’t so old and tacky, I would urge you to get rid of it. Everyone these days wants wood or stone floors.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her own preference was for hardwood flooring, but Sloan wasn’t about to admit that to Tara, convinced it would only encourage the woman to offer more suggestions.
The designer straightened to his feet and turned a direct look on Sloan. “There was a mention earlier that you are a photographer. Will you be wanting a desk or small office area here in the sitting room?”
“No. I want our living quarters to be a comfortable place where both of us can relax and forget about work. Comfort is the key word,” Sloan added, as much for Tara’s benefit as the designer’s. “Not style or elegance.”
He responded with a distracted nod and motioned to the connecting door. “The bedroom’s through here, right?”
“Yes.” Sloan immediately walked over and opened the door to show him into the room.
Whether out of common courtesy or a recognition of the money source, St. Clair allowed Tara to precede him. With one all-encompassing glance she took in the entire room. “I wonder what ever became of that grand king-sized bed Ty and I slept in,” she murmured to no one in particular. “This room just cries for it.”
Wisely, Sloan made no comment. Silence seemed to be the best tactic to use in dealing with the woman.
More time was spent exploring the master bedroom and its adjacent bath, assessing the available storage currently provided, and discussing lighting issues. After his initial inspection of the premises was complete, the designer stated his need to take precise measurements of each room, the size and location of its windows and doorway, as well as the location of all electrical outlets and light sources. Sloan offered to assist him, but he assured her he was used to managing on his own.
“You would just be in the way,” Tara insisted before Sloan could form a protest. “Besides, this will give you and me a chance to get better acquainted. There was little opportunity at all for us to chat before the wedding.”
As far as Sloan was concerned, a tête-a-tête with Tara held no appeal. Seeking to avoid it, she suggested, “Let’s go downstairs and leave Mr. St. Clair to work in peace. I know Cat wanted to see you.”
Any hope of pawning Tara off on Trey’s aunt was dashed when Sloan found the note Cat had left stating that she had taken Chase to visit an aging and ailing ranch hand. As a result, Sloan found herself in the living room with Tara, pouring coffee for two.
Seeking to steer the conversation to safe topics, she plied Tara with questions, mostly about Trey’s childhood. It worked for a while.
Then Tara settled back against the sofa cushions, a little finger raised as she stirred her coffee and studied Sloan with a kind of feline contemplation. “It’s probably very wise of you to continue with your photography work. Heaven knows, this ranch provides few diversions unless you’re a cow. But you do realize that the day will come when that won’t be possible.”
“You mean when Trey and I start our family,” Sloan guessed. “Naturally I’ll have to cut back on my work while our children are small.”
“That’s not quite what I meant,” Tara corrected. “I was thinking more in terms of the time when Trey takes over the ranch. As his wife, you’ll need to take on greater responsibilities. I know this ranch seems very insular, but its success is affected by decisions made outside its boundaries, whether by the government in Helena or Washington. You will soon discover that this ranch has a steady stream of politicians, lobbyists, and other powerful people stopping by each year. As the wife of a Calder, you will be expected to play a vital role, one that goes far beyond a mere hostess. And of course, there is always the private livestock auction held here at the ranch. The place is absolutely swarmed by the rich and famous. At times, it is no easy task keeping all those egos stroked, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“I can see that.” Deliberately noncommittal, Sloan took a sip of her coffee while using those few seconds to absorb this image of her future Tara had painted.
“I feel it’s important that you know these things—and the role you’ll be obliged to play,” Tara continued. “After all, it’s virtually the equivalent of a full-time job, certainly more than Trey could possibly handle. It’s one thing to be his wife, but it’s essential that you be his partner. I’m sure you can see that.”
