As her little car bobbed and bounced along the rocky road, she could see a glimpse of the house through a stand of alder trees. It was set back against the mountain and tall Ponderosa pines, situated next to a red barn with a steep A-line roof.
Madeline’s heart began to beat a little faster. She didn’t know what she’d expected, really—when someone said ranch, she’d thought of dusty rodeos and low-slung houses baking in the midday sun. She hadn’t thought of this. It was impossible that her father had left her this. Impossible! Things like this did not happen to Madeline Pruett. She didn’t possess a single thing that she hadn’t worked hard to get, hadn’t put in long hours of study or work to have.
When she pulled into the small circular drive before the quaint house, she could see the wear on it, but it was charming. The roof was a collection of steeply angled pitches over various rooms and floors. The ground floor of the house was built with stone, and the second story, which looked to have been added on at some point, was made of tongue-and-groove logs as big around as the wheels on her rental car. Large, plate-glass windows lined the front of the house, looking out at the vista of mountains rising up from the opposite edge of the meadow.
The realtor in Madeline appreciated the charm. But the realtor in her also understood the remote location would be a huge obstacle to overcome. It was as far from anything as it could possibly be, far from the world, and it would take a feat of marketing genius to sell it.
On the right of the house was a large room that had been added on to the original structure, judging by the difference in wood. It had a flat roof and crankcase windows, most of which were open.
Madeline opened the door of her car and stepped out. In between the house and the barn was a grassy area enclosed by cottonwoods and alder trees. Faded Chinese lanterns had been strung through the trees, and three picnic tables were situated under the branches. From one tree, a tire swing spun lazily. She could picture her faceless sisters, growing up in this idyllic setting with toboggans and hayrides and sleepovers.
The knot in her belly tightened again. And now, her head hurt.
Madeline walked around the front of her car to the flagstone walk. That was when she saw the four dogs lying under the porch, their heads up, their eyes locked on her, She could just see them through the leggy daylilies that decorated the front of the house.
Her heart began to pound with panic. Madeline had never had a dog. As a realtor, she’d had her fair share of bad encounters with overly protective dogs. Her standard checklist when showing a house included some guarantee from owners that their pets had been removed from the property or put into proper crates.
The dogs lifted their snouts, sniffing the air, as if she gave off some sort of scent, and she wondered wildly if it was dogs or bears that one should not look in the eye? Slowly, Madeline began to ease back, hoping to get around her car and in before they attacked, when the screen door opened and a woman with curly hair bounded out. “Hey!” she said.
All four dogs leaped to their feet and headed directly for Madeline. Madeline shrieked and raced around the car to the driver’s side, crashing into the bumper and stumbling in her shoes as she reached for the door handle.
“They won’t bite!” the woman shouted at her, following the dogs to her car. “Back to the garage, you beasts! Garage, garage!” she shouted at the dogs, and swung her arm out, pointing at the garage Madeline had not noticed until this moment. She had one hand on the car door, another gripping her bag, prepared to use it as a weapon. But the dogs suddenly pulled up and lazily trotted in the direction of the garage with peeling paint, disappearing between two cars parked there.
“Are you all right?”
Madeline jerked around. Across the top of her car, the woman with the crazy curly hair was staring at her with blue-gray eyes.
“I’m sorry if they scared you. They’re just mutts. Harmless mutts.”
“I’m fine,” Madeline said, breathless. She wasn’t fine—she was terrified. She straightened the jacket of her suit, pushed her hair behind her ears, trying to gather herself. She smoothed down her jacket again and glanced at the woman.
The woman was grinning.
The mess of curls was held off her face by a bandeau. She was wearing jeans, Converse sneakers, and a red-checkered shirt. She looked a little like a carhop, and Madeline guessed she was a caretaker or housekeeper.
“You must be Madeline,” the woman said, her expression hopeful as she walked around Madeline’s car to the driver’s side.
“Yes,” Madeline said, and extended her hand. “I’m here for the meeting. And you are…?”
The woman’s smile deepened. “I am so excited to meet you! I’m Libby!”
The name did not immediately register.