it was so kind of you to bring the flowers for my wife.”
“It was no problem, Mr. Thalberg. And it’s my job now.” She smiled at him and was relieved when he smiled back. “Is your wife at home?”
“Nope, but she told me where she wants the flowers.”
Though she was disappointed, Emily didn’t show it, helping Mr. Thalberg to bring the flowers inside. Two arrangements were in vases, and another was a big spray that he put in the hearth of the stone fireplace that dominated the log-walled room.
“This is beautiful,” Emily said, looking around.
The upholstered dark furniture was lightened by throw pillows in greens and reds. Huge bookshelves were built into the wall on either side of the fireplace. The wood floors had several small rugs in various patterns of green.
“We’ve remodeled over the last hundred years, of course, but this room was part of the original homestead.”
“How incredible that you have such family history,” she said wistfully.
“You do, too, Emily. You just don’t know it yet.”
She hesitated. “Nate mentioned that he told you about my predicament. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Not at all. Let me get some lemonade, and I’ll meet you on the front porch. It’s too beautiful to waste a spring day inside.”
She stepped back outside and sank onto a comfortable wooden rocker with a cushion on the seat. She rocked gently, staring across the fields with hay rippling in the breeze, and toward the looming mountains. The peace of such a view could quiet the troubles of any soul.
He returned with a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. After pouring them each a drink, he sat down beside her, and neither of them said a thing for a few minutes.
“Mr. Thalberg, your land is simply stunning.”
He gave her a small smile. “God’s land, you mean. You can’t help but believe in Him when you live in the Rockies.”
She found herself glancing at the one barn she could see. “Is it always this quiet?”
He grinned at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “No, ma’am. But my kids are up on our grazin’ allotment in the mountains, repairin’ fence. It’s a job that never ends. The elk migratin’ through do some of the damage, along with roamin’ cattle. There’s age and weather conditions as well.”
“I can only imagine what the snow must be like up there in the dead of winter.” She shuddered.
“Are you a skier?” he asked.
“Not regularly, but I’ve done it a few times.”
“You’ll have to return and give our mountains a try. Nate’s quite the expert on skis or snowboard.”
“I’m not surprised. He seems an expert at a lot of things. He gave me a crash course in drywall. And the work he did at the boardinghouse was just amazing.”
“You should see his cabin.”
Not just yet, she thought. “Your mom did some bragging about it. She’s very proud of all her grandchildren.”
They sat quietly for several minutes, as the breeze blew in the scent of growing hay.
“Those questions I mentioned,” she began at last.
He nodded politely.
“I talked to Cathy Fletcher about my mom having a boyfriend, but she said Delilah didn’t date much. Well, obviously there had to be someone,” she said dryly, “so I wondered if there were any boys who hung at the store, who might not have been officially ‘dating’ my mother. She thought of Hal Abrams and Steve Keppel. Do those names spark any memories?”
Mr. Thalberg frowned as he rocked. “They both still live in town, of course.”
“I know, but I hate to just approach two strangers and say, ‘Are you my father?’ Knowing my mother, she didn’t tell him she was pregnant. It’ll be a terrible shock.”
“Well, not terrible,” he said, giving her a faint smile. “When a man does the deed, he knows there’s a chance, even with all the precautions in the world.”
“Did my mother . . . talk about those men to you?”
“Sorry, no, but I do remember them hangin’ out on Main Street a lot their senior year. The store was pretty popular with all the kids, includin’ me. There’s even another name you might add to your list. Joe Sweet.”
She frowned. “I’ve heard that name before.”
“His family owns the Sweetheart Inn and Ranch. They have their fingers in a lot of the businesses in town.”
“You mean through the preservation fund?”
Mr. Thalberg chuckled. “Nope, that’s for people who want to donate anonymously. They’ve never made any secret of the fact they’re rich enough to invest