Beau: Cowboy Protector. Marin Thomas
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where she could put her catering recipes to good use.
“Your mother would have loved helping you run the diner.”
Sierra was sad that she hadn’t been able to share her business venture with her parents, but at least they’d been spared the agony of watching their only child face monumental, life-altering changes. Then again, Sierra would have appreciated their support when the going got tough…tougher…toughest. At least her aunt was by her side, and Sierra hoped she would remain so for a long time to come.
“Don’t feel you have to keep me company,” Jordan said. “I imagine it’s busy downstairs.”
“Irene has everything under control.” Sierra’s second in command ran the diner like a military mess hall. Even the two high school students Sierra employed toed the line when they worked with Irene. “Mind if I ask you a personal question, Aunt Jordan?”
“Not at all.” Her aunt’s smile erased ten years from her age.
“How serious were you and Joshua when you dated in high school?”
A wistful expression settled over her aunt’s face. “We were very much in love.”
“What happened?”
“I wanted to go to college and see the world, and Joshua was content to remain in Roundup.”
“Mom said she never regretted leaving town, but I think that’s because she and Dad spent their summers at the cabin. Do you wish you would have stayed closer to home?”
“No. I needed to spread my wings. I knew if I wanted a dancing career that I’d have to move to California.”
“Then you met Uncle Bob in Sacramento.”
“And Bob showed me the world through the military.”
Did her aunt realized how fortunate she’d been to be able to see all her dreams come true before her eye disease had caused her to go blind?
You’ve seen your dreams come true.
She’d become a chef and had opened her own business, honoring her great-grandfather who’d died in a flood at the Number 1 Mine outside Roundup. But what about her wanting to marry and have children? The odds of that wish coming true were a long shot.
“What happened to your dance career after you married Uncle Bob?”
“I cut back on my performances, then eventually quit when we decided to have children. I knew I’d have to put on weight before I became pregnant.” She paused. “In the end, my weight didn’t matter. I couldn’t get pregnant.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Jordan.”
“I had just talked your uncle into agreeing to try in vitro fertilization when I noticed something wasn’t right with my eyes.”
“How old were you?” Sierra asked.
“Thirty-three.” Jordan sighed. “After the doctor confirmed that I’d eventually go blind, Bob insisted we stop trying to have children.” Her aunt waved a hand before her face. “Life goes on. Speaking of which, you need to make an appointment with an ophthalmologist.”
“I’ve got time.” Sierra wasn’t ready for an official diagnosis.
“Sandra—” Aunt Jordan’s high school friend “—was in the diner last week and said you walked right by her without saying hello.”
Since Jordan helped in the diner once in a while, the place had become a coffee klatch for her gossipy friends. “I wasn’t rude on purpose.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“I’m sure I was distracted.” Sierra would rather believe that than admit she had trouble with her peripheral vision.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” Sierra was scared—bone-chillingly terrified of going blind. “Are you sure you won’t miss spending the holidays with your friends in St. Petersburg?” Her aunt had rented her condo to a businessman until the end of the year.
“Is that a polite way of telling me I’m cramping your style?”
“Not at all.” It was Sierra’s way of conveying that she didn’t want her aunt to leave Roundup. Ever. Jordan had leaned on her husband as her eyesight had worsened through the years, but Sierra had no one to guide her down the frightening road ahead. “It’s just that Montana winters are long and cold.”
“I remember them, dear. I’m looking forward to snow for the holidays.”
“I’m sure it will be nice to spend Christmas with Joshua.” If her aunt and former boyfriend really hit it off, Jordan would have another reason to remain in Roundup.
“Thank you for reminding me that I need to make a Christmas list. I have no idea what Joshua would like.”
Sierra took her glass to the sink. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased with whatever you choose for him.” It was obvious that Joshua was crazy for Jordan—not a day went by that he didn’t visit her or call.
“I think I’ll read this afternoon,” Jordan said.
As much as Sierra loved her aunt and needed her encouragement, there were times when she grew weary of being impressed by the woman. Jordan had taught herself to read braille before she’d completely lost her eyesight. “Would Molly like a walk before I leave?”
“I’m sure she would, but she’ll have to wait until three.”
“I forgot about her schedule.” Molly was on a set timetable for eating, walks and bedtime. “Holler if you need anything, Aunt Jordan.”
“I won’t, dear.”
That was the truth. No one had been more surprised than Sierra when her aunt and Molly had ridden a Greyhound bus clear across the country by themselves. From the very first day in town, her aunt had demonstrated her independence. It didn’t take long to learn Jordan became perturbed when people did things for her without asking if she needed their help. Sierra was counting on her aunt to teach her how to be just as gutsy and courageous.
Sierra took the back stairs down to the diner. Sunday was her favorite day of the week. Roundup’s spiritual citizens attended morning church services at the various places of worship, and afterward many of them stopped by the diner for lunch. Folks were usually in a congenial mood after listening to God’s word, and her employees swore tips were better on Sundays than any other day of the week.
When Sierra entered the kitchen she found her waitresses sharing a piece of peach cobbler. “Taking a break?”
“Yeah. Mr. Humphrey finally left,” Amy said. “The old fart drives me crazy.” The teen snorted. “Who leaves a tip in nickels?”
That her waitress found Mr. Humphrey an odd duck amused Sierra. Amy possessed her share of interesting traits, such as short, dark hair with hot-pink bangs. Tattoos covered Amy’s right arm from wrist to shoulder, and she wore numerous silver rings in her ears and fake diamond studs pierced her nose and eyebrows.
“Mr. Humphrey is one of my faithful customers. Please be nice to him,” Sierra said.
“I always am,” Amy grumbled.
Amy was a nice girl, but she ran with a rough crowd and had gotten caught shoplifting twice this year. Dinah Hart-Wright, Roundup’s sheriff, had asked Sierra if she’d give Amy a job to help keep her out of trouble. The teen’s first few weeks at the diner had been a challenge, but Susie, an honor student at the high school and one year younger than Amy, had befriended the delinquent teen and shown her the ropes.
“When you girls finish your dessert, please clean off the mustard and ketchup bottles, then fill the salt and pepper shakers on the tables.”
“Sure. But Sierra,” Susie said. “I checked the storeroom