Rough Diamonds: Wyoming Tough / Diamond in the Rough. Diana Palmer
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spring night, the temperature was unusually comfortable and guests wandered around inside and out nibbling on canapés and drinking the best imported champagne.
Mavie was fascinated by the people she and her hired staff were feeding. “Did you see that movie star?” she exclaimed. “I just watched his last film, and now he’s got a series on one of the pay-perview channels. Isn’t he gorgeous?”
Morie peered out and chuckled. She knew the man, who was sweet and unaffected by his great fame. “He’s a doll,” she said.
“There’s that soccer star who’s paid millions a year,” Mavie continued. “And that’s the president of one of those desert countries overseas!”
“Philippe Sabon,” Morie blurted out without thinking. Her father knew the man, whose wife was from Texas.
Mavie glanced at her suspiciously.
“I read about him in the newspapers,” Morie covered quickly. “What a story! He’s even more handsome in person!”
Mavie gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, he sure is.”
“We’d better get back to work,” Morie groaned. “Look at how fast those trays are going down!”
“Good thing we’ve got plenty of raw material in here.” Mavie chuckled.
They worked steadily for the next hour, making and baking succulent treats for the guests. The band was playing some lazy blues tunes, and a few couples were dancing in the big family room by the patio door.
“You should be in there dancing and having fun,” Mavie said. “You’re young enough to enjoy these parties.”
Morie gaped at her. “I’m the hired help.”
“Baloney. The boss doesn’t think like that.”
“Want to bet?” Morie murmured under her breath. She’d already had an unforgettable taste of the boss’s attitude toward the lower classes. It had a sting.
Mavie glanced her way. “You want to watch that Gelly person. She was raging to the boss about how you talked to her like a dog and said she was a useless person.”
“I said no such thing!” Morie replied indignantly.
“Just telling you what she’s saying” came the soft reply. “I’ve seen women like her all my life. They purr when they’re around the man in charge and claw when they’re not. She isn’t as wealthy as she makes herself out to be. One of my friends works for her folks, and gets paid nothing, not even minimum. She says they put on airs and pretend to be rich, but they’re barely middle class. Gelly’s hoping for a rich husband to prop up the family finances. She’s got her eye on the boss.”
“If he’s nuts enough to marry her, he’ll get what he deserves,” Morie pointed out. “That woman has more sharp edges than a razor’s blade.”
She nodded in agreement. “I think she does, too.”
It was almost ten o’clock. The staff would leave soon, and so would most of the guests. Morie would be glad to see her bed. She’d been on her feet since daylight. She was half-starved, as well, because she hadn’t had a dinner break. Neither had Mavie.
“I’m so hungry.” Morie sighed.
“Me, too. We’ll save a few canapés for ourselves,” she said, laughing. “I’ll put some on a plate for you to take back to your room.”
“Thanks, Mavie.”
“No, thank you,” she replied. “You’re a wonderful little worker. I couldn’t have managed this alone.”
She grinned. “I like working in the kitchen.”
“Me, too. Call me old-fashioned, but I love to cook… .”
“WHERE’S THAT WONDERFUL cook?” came a familiar deep voice from the doorway. A minute later, Morie’s uncle Danny Brannt came through the doorway, laughing. He stopped dead when he spotted Morie.
She put her finger to her lips, when Mavie’s back was turned, and shook her head frantically.
“Who’s the cook?” he repeated, beaming at Mavie. “I just had to thank you for those delicious canapés. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted anything that good.”
“It was me—” Mavie laughed “—but my helper here came up with most of the recipes.” She indicated Morie. “She’s Morie,” she added. “I’m Mavis, but everyone calls me Mavie.”
“I’m happy to meet you,” he said. “Both of you.” But when he looked at Morie his eyebrows lifted. “Like working here, do you?” he asked her.
“Oh, yes, very much,” she replied.
He pursed his lips. “Can I speak with you for a minute?” he added. “I want to ask you something about that little sausage canapé. For my housekeeper,” he said.
“Sure,” she replied.
He walked to the back door, held it open and let her go out before him. She worried that it might make Mavie suspicious, but she had to make him understand. She explained what she was doing.
“What the devil are you up to?” he asked seriously. “Your dad would have a fit if he knew you were working for wages on a ranch!”
“You can’t tell him,” she replied firmly. “I’m going to show him that I can make it on my own. He doesn’t have to like it. But if you tell him where I am, he’ll come up here and make trouble. He’ll be telling the boss what I can and can’t be expected to do and it will ruin everything. You know how he is.”
“I guess I do.” He frowned. “How did you get a job way up here?”
“A friend of a friend told me they were hiring. And what are you doing here?” she exclaimed.
“I met Cane during a trial. He was a friend of the plaintiff, a land case I heard in superior court in Texas. We had lunch and became friends. Good heavens, I had no idea I’d come to his party and find my niece cooking for it!”
She laughed. “Well, somebody had to. Mavie had no clue about canapés and Mom makes the best I ever tasted. So does Aunt Edie and your housekeeper.”
“If your dad ever finds out about this…”
“He won’t. And if he ever does, I’ll defend you,” she promised confidently.
He shook his head. “You always were a handful, even when you were little.”
“And you always loved me anyway, Uncle Danny.”
“Yes, I did.” He hugged her warmly. “Okay, I guess you know what you’re doing. I won’t tell Kingston. But there will be a dustup when the truth comes out. You’ll have to protect me,” he added with a grin.
“You know I will. Thanks.”
“What are you doing out here instead of working, Miss Brannt?” Gelly’s shrill, angry voice came from the doorway. “You are not to have private conversations with my guests, you little gold digger!”
Danny moved into the light. The woman’s attitude toward his niece pricked his temper. He’d already formed an opinion of Gelly Bruner, and it wasn’t a good one. “I’m not your guest,” he pointed out coldly. “I came to see the Kirks.”
She flushed and looked uncertain.
“Why don’t you go back to the party and stop trying to micromanage your boyfriend’s staff?” he drawled. “Perhaps I should have a word with him… .”
“Sorry,” Gelly said stiffly and managed a cool smile. “Excuse me, please.”
She almost ran off.
Morie was stifling laughter. Her uncle could be as intimidating as her father ever was, even