Rancher For The Holidays. Myra Johnson
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steak, you’re about—” she counted on her fingers “—thirty-nine hours too late.”
Ben chortled. “The way you were chowing down Saturday, I’m surprised those leftovers lasted that long.”
“They were sure good, though.” Marley offered a sincere smile. “I mean it—thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Thumbs hooked in the pockets of the Wranglers Marley had helped him find, Ben turned to study her photos of Candelaria. “This is my favorite.” He nodded toward the shot of the little girl boarding the school bus. “There’s something about her expression, like she wants to but doesn’t.”
“Would you want to ride an hour and a half to and from school every day?” Marley stood beside Ben and recalled the morning she’d snapped the photo of Isabella Cortez. It was two years ago, the first day of school. “These kids want an education so badly, and they’re all such good students. It’s been a long, hard fight to get a school reestablished in Candelaria so the kids won’t have to be bused into Presidio every day.”
“There ought to be a better way.” Frowning, Ben moved to another photo. “Like this little store. Can’t they get a big-box store to come in?”
Irritation bristled. “Have I mentioned Candelaria is considered a ghost town? There aren’t enough families in the area to support a convenience store, much less a major supermarket.”
“Guess I’ve lived in the big city too long. Can’t even imagine living under such conditions.”
“Not many people can.” Returning to the counter, Marley angled the photography-class poster a little more toward the front entrance. “Was there a particular reason you stopped in?” She peeked over her shoulder and wedged a touch of humor back into her voice. “Besides checking up on my leftover steak?”
“Actually, yes. Over the weekend I learned my aunt and uncle are about to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary. I’d like to give them something special and wondered if you’d do their portrait.”
“Wow, forty years. In today’s world, they’re practically an endangered species.” Marley tried not to think about her own parents, who’d separated not long after her dad decided to go into politics twelve years ago. Between the threat of divorce and his delinquent daughter with her juvenile record, Dad and his election team had their hands full doing damage control.
Then Mom had relented and promised to stick it out—if only for appearances’ sake. With Marley, however, Daddy found it easier to quietly relocate her and change her name so he could pretend she never existed.
Until she ran short of funds. And dear old Dad wouldn’t think of being late with a check for fear his little girl would reappear at the most inopportune moment to utterly humiliate him. He couldn’t seem to appreciate how desperately Marley struggled not to go to her father for assistance. Nor did he get the whole concept of turning one’s life around, maybe because he had such a hard time doing so himself.
“Marley?” Ben’s gentle tone drew her thoughts to the present. “You looked a million miles away.”
“Just planning in my head what kind of portrait your aunt and uncle would like. I’m thinking a location shoot right there at the ranch.”
“I like it. I could see the two of them on the porch swing, with the mountains in the background, maybe around sunset—”
“Hey!” Laughing, Marley waved her hands. “I’m the photographer, last time I checked.”
Ben rested an elbow on the counter. His lazy grin did something to Marley’s insides. “Isn’t the customer entitled to offer suggestions?”
“Only if he doesn’t get in the way of my creative vision.” Marley crossed to the other side of the counter and pulled out her appointment book. “When do you want to do this?”
“I’ll need to check with Uncle Steve and Aunt Jane. They don’t even know about the idea yet.”
“Just let me know. For a full-size portrait on canvas, I have to send the proof to a photo lab, which takes time.” Marley laid a catalog on the counter and began flipping pages. “You need to decide what size portrait you want, then whether you prefer traditional stretched canvas or mounted on foam board. Then you have framing options—”
Eyes glazing, Ben raised his hands. “Why do I have a feeling this is going to be a lot more expensive than I bargained for?”
It happened every time. People came in wanting a family portrait or looking for a wedding photographer, and when Marley started talking prices, they looked as if she’d hit them with a stun gun. Would she ever get the hang of easing the client into the monetary portion of their discussion?
Pasting on a patient smile, she closed the catalog and slid it onto the shelf beneath the counter. “Don’t sweat it. We have lots of options, and I’m perfectly willing to try to work within your budget.”
“That’s good, since I don’t have one. I’m unemployed, remember?”
“Hard to forget, Salad Man.” Marley winked. “I have an idea.” She opened a drawer and brought out a gray vellum envelope. Inside was a blank gift certificate, which she laid on the counter in front of Ben. “We don’t have to talk prices now, but I’ll write in ‘one professional portrait sitting and print,’ and you can present it to your aunt and uncle. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
Ben ran his index finger along the certificate’s silver border, then looked up at Marley with a grin. “This is perfect. Thanks.”
His gaze held hers so long that she almost forgot how to breathe. She straightened and reached for her calligraphy pen. “All righty, then, I’ll fix this right up for you.”
* * *
Forty years. Ben had a hard time wrapping his head around the number. How did two people stay together so long, and look so happy doing it? But then, if Mom hadn’t died, she and Dad would have celebrated their thirty-sixth anniversary this year. Ben and his brother, Aidan, used to be mortified by their parents’ public displays of affection. Keith and Emily Fisher had had the kind of marriage Ben had always secretly wanted for himself someday.
And then came Paula. Thoughts of Ben’s brassy new stepmother made Ben shudder worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. But when Dad chose to remarry so quickly, he hadn’t asked for anyone else’s opinion, least of all his own sons’.
All these thoughts played through Ben’s mind that evening when he presented Uncle Steve and Aunt Jane the gift certificate Marley had prepared. Their enthusiastic response reminded him all over again why Steve and Jane were his favorite aunt and uncle. First they hugged him until he begged for mercy, and then they hugged and kissed each other like a couple of newlyweds.
“Sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for us.” Aunt Jane wiped tears from her eyes. “We haven’t had a nice portrait done since our twentieth.”
“Not counting those church directory pictures every few years.” Uncle Steve grimaced. “Regular cattle call, the way they rush you in and out.” He stroked Aunt Jane’s cheek with a tender touch, his voice softening. “And last time they airbrushed away all my sweetheart’s character lines.”
“Character lines, my foot.” Giving her husband a playful punch on the arm, Aunt Jane winked at Ben. “Sounds to me like your uncle needs a new pair of bifocals.”
“I think you’re gorgeous, Aunt Jane.” Ben fetched the coffeepot and refilled everyone’s mugs. As they returned to their seats around the kitchen table, he asked, “So, can we set up a time with Marley soon?”
Ben’s aunt put a hand to the silver curls brushing her neck. “All depends on when I can get a salon appointment. If we’re going to be preserved for posterity, I want to look my best!”
“I should have my suit dry-cleaned, too,” Uncle Steve said. “Only ever wear