“Well, thank you. And thank you for inviting me.”
“Come on in. When did it start snowing? I wasn’t paying attention due to kitchen duty and a family ghost.” Gesturing Jessica in, she stepped back. “You can join in the first and help exorcise the second just by being here. You didn’t have to bring anything,” she added, nodding at the cake holder Jessica carried.
“Have to implies obligation. Happy to is appreciation.”
“Thanks either way. Let me get your coat.”
Shifting the cake holder from hand to hand, Jessica drew off her coat and scarf as she studied the entranceway.
“This is fabulous. I love the beamed ceilings, the wide-planked floor, and oh, that fireplace.”
“I’d forgotten you haven’t been here before. We’ll have to give you a tour.”
“I’d love it.”
In her simple blue dress, Jessica wandered a few steps into the living area. “And the views!”
“We’re all about them. They’re pretty terrific from the kitchen, too. Come on back. Let’s get you a drink.”
The house rambled, charming her. Everything about it spoke of comfort, in a casual, family style. A lot of wood and leather, Jessica noted, a lot of Western art and artifacts interspersed with pieces of Irish crystal and Belleek. Windows framed with wide square trim and left uncurtained to bring in the fields, the sky, the mountains.
She stopped outside a room with a large antique desk, pointed to the wall. “Is that a … papoose?”
“A papoose would be what went into it,” Bodine explained. “It’s a cradleboard. My father’s grandfather’s cradleboard.”
“It’s wonderful, and enviable, to be able to trace your heritage back so far, on both sides, and have pieces like that, the tangible connection.”
“We’re a jigsaw puzzle of ethnicities.” Bodine led the way back. “Look who I’ve got.”
“Jessie. So good to see you.” Maureen left her vigil at the stove to welcome Jessica with a hug. “You always look so pretty.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to put a nice dress on every once in a while, Bodine,” Miss Fancy said as she stirred the glaze for the ham.
“Thanks,” Bodine muttered to Jessica. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.” Jessica put the cake holder on the counter. “How can I help?”
“Wine first,” Maureen decreed. “What have you brought us?”
“It’s ptichye moloko.”
“Not sure I can pronounce that, so I’m going to take a peek.”
Cora walked over, lifted the lid. “Oh, that’s just gorgeous!”
“It’s a Russian dessert—bird’s milk cake, though you don’t use milk from birds. My grandmother always made it for special occasions.”
Bodine held out a glass of wine, studied the smooth chantilly frosting drizzled artistically with chocolate. “You made it?”
“I like to bake. It’s not much fun baking for myself, so this was a treat.”
“I’m getting out the fancy cake stand, putting this on the dessert buffet with the pies and Ma’s trifle.” Maureen rushed toward the dining room for the cake stand. “You sit down and drink that wine, Jessie.”
“I will,” she told Maureen, “if you put a kitchen tool in my hand.”
“Put the girl to work,” Miss Fancy ordered. “The men’ll be trooping in here before much longer and getting in the way of things.”
For Jessica, taking part in a large family gathering fascinated. The interaction and dynamics of the four generations of women, with some roles loosely assigned—Bo, grab me that, Ma, will you taste this—and other roles fiercely guarded.
Miss Fancy baked the ham while Maureen took charge of the turkey. The gravy stood squarely in Cora’s domain.
Whatever family ghost Bodine had referred to appeared to have departed, as the women worked in easy harmony, and with a great deal of affection. Though she couldn’t imagine herself ever making a vat of gravy, she got tips on doing so from Cora. And thought of the hours she’d spent in the kitchen with her own grandmother.
“You look a little melancholy.” Cora spoke quietly. “Missing your family?”
“I was thinking about my grandmother, how she taught me to cook, to appreciate the creativity of it.”
“Is she back East? Maybe she can come out for a nice long visit.”
“She died last winter.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Instinctively, Cora wrapped an arm around Jessica’s shoulders as she whisked the gravy with her other hand. “Did she teach you to make that cake?”
“She did.”
“Then she’s here all the same, isn’t she?” So saying, Cora pressed a kiss to Jessica’s temple.
Chase stepped in, surprised to see Jessica a little teary-eyed and leaning against his grandmother’s side.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, we’re about ready to haul the turkey and such over to the bunkhouse.”
The announcement caused a quick and ruthlessly organized scramble for the sides and the desserts designated for the ranch crew.
One of the crew, a grizzled, barrel-chested man with his hat in his hands, stood behind Chase.
“We sure do appreciate all this fine food, Miss Fancy, Miss Cora, Miss Reenie, Bo, ah…”
“Jessica,” she told him.
“Ma’am. It smells a treat in here. Now, don’t you lift that big pot, Miss Cora. I got that.”
“You and the boys enjoy what’s in it, Hec, and be sure that pot comes back.”
“I’ll get it back to you, but you can be sure there won’t be a scrap of these mashed potatoes left before I do. Mighty obliged. And happy Thanksgiving, ladies.”
The minute the door shut behind him and Chase and a load of food, Bodine snorted. “He’s still sweet on you, Nana.”
“You stop that, Bodine Samantha Longbow.”
“Calling me by my full name doesn’t change the facts. Hector’s been sweet on Nana as long as I can remember.”
“You aren’t old enough to remember all that long, are you?” Cora said tartly.
“Old enough to know you’d have a boyfriend if you gave him the opening.”
“I’m too set in my ways for a man. And you’re a fine one to talk about boyfriends. When’s the last time you stepped out with a man on a Saturday night?”
Bodine bit into one of the eggs her great-grandmother had deviled. “Maybe I’m too set in my ways.”
“I see one out there who’d change those ways.” Miss Fancy grinned out the window. “That Callen Skinner sure fills out a pair of Levi’s nice and fine.”
“Grammy!”
Miss Fancy laughed, winking at Bodine. “I’ve got eyes, and I don’t even need the glasses since they fiddled with my lenses taking off the cataracts. Yes, sir, I see just fine. Hear fine, too, like hearing you ride into town with him most mornings now.”
“There’s nothing to that.”
“Doesn’t mean there couldn’t be, or he couldn’t make there be, if he sets his sights on you.”
“I’m not a target,” Bodine retorted.
Cora poked her shoulder. “Teach you to mind your mouth about who’s sweet on who.”