Good Enough (Meet Me in Montana #3) - Kelly Elliott Page 0,66
and cutting out shapes. She declared she’d be decorating. She lost that battle, though, when Dirk and I started to compete with one another on who could decorate the best cookie.
I won. At least, in my eyes I had. Every so often I’d sneak a glance over at Timberlynn. She truly was enjoying herself with my father, and that made me both happy and sad. I felt bad for the way her father had treated her, but happy as a fucking clam at how my father was doting on her. I looked at my mother and asked in a low voice, “You put her with Dad on purpose, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Kaylee told me a little bit about Timberlynn’s past with her mother dying and how she and her father aren’t very close. I thought maybe she might like the experience with more of a male parental figure.”
“When did you become so smart, Mama?”
“When did I become so smart? Son, I’ve always been smart. I’ll have you know, Tanner Shaw, I don’t miss a thing. Like how you left to go to the office with Timberlynn, yet came back alone and she came back looking very confused and on the arm of Dirk. Or how Dirk ushered you into the mud room for a little chat. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you and Timberlynn keep looking at one another when the other one isn’t paying attention. I see all, child. I see all.”
“You saw all that, huh?” I asked.
She nodded and kept speaking in a hushed voice. “Timberlynn seemed a bit off when she came back. Did you two argue?”
“You could say that. I got a bit…upset.”
“Why?” she asked as she wiped her hand on her apron.
“We’ll talk later, not here.”
With a gentle nod of her head and a warm smile, she replied, “Of course, sweetheart.”
Hours later, we had hundreds of sugar cookies all ready to be packed up into boxes and delivered to various locations. Some went to friends and family, some to the retirement home in town, some to neighbors. My mother had a list every year of where the cookies went. We had voted long ago that we would only stick to baking sugar cookies. The year we tried to do five types of cookies turned out to be a failed attempt. My mother saw how competitive we were with the sugar cookie decorating and used it to her advantage. Long ago we accused her of using child labor to pump out her cookies, and she had admitted to doing just that.
It only made me realize even more that I had done the right thing by coming home early. December twenty-second, the official cookie baking day, would always be one of my favorite days. My only regret was the fight Timberlynn and I had gotten into earlier.
One more glance over at Timberlynn, and I caught her looking at me. Our eyes met, and before I could do anything, Dirk walked up and threw his arm over her shoulders. “Come on, little one. We’re going to play charades, and you and I are going to kick everyone’s ass.”
Timberlynn laughed and allowed Dirk to lead her out of the kitchen. Brock stopped next to me and said, “He’s not interested in her, you know that.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
He smiled. “Good. I don’t think Mom and Dad want to see you and Dirk break out into a fist fight so close to Christmas. Plus, Mom needs you to help her pack up these cookies.”
“Why me?” I protested.
Brock looked around the kitchen. “’Cause everyone else left, and it’s you and me. I’m older, so I delegate it to you.”
Before I had a chance to argue, our mother walked back into the kitchen. “Oh, Brock, Tanner. You both stayed back to help me! You’re so sweet.”
I smiled and looked at Brock.
“Mom, I was just…” he started.
She handed him a tin. “About to fill this up with cookies. Let’s get to work, boys, we have a lot of cookies to pack up!”
For the next couple of days, I did my best to give Timberlynn the space I figured she needed. I got up early, ate a quick breakfast while everyone else was still sleeping, and then headed out to work on the ranch. Jimmy, Greg, and I had been busting our asses to make sure everything was winterized, and ensuring that nothing had been missed a few months back when they had first prepped for winter. We worked almost until sundown