Montana Hearts. Charlotte Carter

liked to cook,” Kurt said. “She had the kitchen remodeled and expanded several years ago so she could have bigger parties.”

      “Very impressive.” Sarah rarely entertained. Until recently she hadn’t had the strength.

      “Your bedroom with a private bath is back here.” Kurt led her past what she took to be a pantry and supply room. “Originally this room off the kitchen was for a servant, but Zoe turned it into a guest room. My brother and his family come to visit once in a while. They live in Denver.”

      Sarah drew a quick breath as she stepped inside. Though simply decorated, the room had a homey feel to it. A handmade quilt covered a cherrywood double bed and there was a matching dresser with a vase of artificial daisies sitting on it. Sheer curtains covered the one window and on the walls, original watercolor paintings featured Western scenes. An oval hooked rug brightened the hardwood floor.

      “This is lovely,” she said. “Your wife had very good taste.”

      “Yeah, she did.” He backed out of the room. “I’ll help bring in your things, then you can start dinner. I checked and it looks like Nana Grace defrosted some steaks.”

      Steaks? Sarah rarely ate red meat but she supposed tonight could be an exception. Assuming she could figure out how to cook them.

      An hour later, she’d unpacked her bags and stood staring at four huge T-bone steaks wondering what to do with them. She’d managed to find some shredded lettuce and tomatoes, and cut up some baby carrots to add to a salad. She figured Kurt was a big eater, so she put a loaf of bread and butter on the table.

      But for the life of her, she couldn’t find a broiler pan big enough to hold all the steaks.

      Willing to admit defeat, she went in search of Kurt.

      Toby was sprawled on the living room floor watching television.

      “Toby, do you know where your dad is?”

      He continued to stare glassy-eyed at the antics of comic characters determined to lop off each others’ heads with laser swords.

      “Toby?” When he still failed to answer, she shrugged. She’d find Kurt herself.

      She turned down the hallway that led to his office. She found him there staring at the computer screen in much the same way Toby was watching TV. A disorganized pile of invoices sat on his cluttered walnut desk and old magazines and farm catalogs covered half of the nearby couch.

      She knocked on the doorjamb and he looked up, a frown tugging his brows together. She opened her mouth to ask about cooking the steaks, but before she could speak, he said, “Do you know anything about computers?”

      She blinked, caught off guard by his question. “Some. What seems to be the problem?”

      “Beats me. I’m supposed to be able to pay my bills online. I clicked on something and the whole screen went blank. It’s just plain gone.” He glared at the screen as if he could, by force of will, make the device do what he wanted it to do.

      “Would you like me to try?” Fortunately, her computer skills were considerably better than her cooking prowess.

      He moved out of his dark leather chair, and she took his place. A few quick clicks of the mouse and a spreadsheet appeared.

      “Is this what you were looking for?”

      As he bent over to peer at the screen, she caught the scent of sage and wild grass on the prairie. The essential perfume of both Kurt and his land.

      “That’s incredible. How did you do that?”

      “You must have accidentally hidden the whole work sheet. All I did was unhide it. You should be fine now.”

      They traded places again.

      “Did you want something?” he asked, his attention back on the computer screen.

      “I was looking for a broiling pan to cook the steaks. I couldn’t find one.”

      “Grace grills them.”

      “Oh.” His answer wasn’t very helpful. She guessed he was referring to a barbecue grill she’d spotted on the back porch.

      It took a couple of tries to light the propane but finally Sarah dropped the steaks on the grill.

      Back in the kitchen, she set the table and poured milk for Toby and Beth and water for herself. She wasn’t sure what Kurt would want to drink with his dinner, so she held off on that.

      Beth came stalking into the kitchen, a cell phone in her hand. “Isn’t dinner ready yet? I’m starved.” She plucked a cookie out of a rooster-shaped cookie jar with one hand while the thumb of her other hand nimbly sent a text to someone.

      “The steaks should be ready any minute.”

      Beth glanced at the stove, then toward the back door.

      “Something’s on fire!”

      Sarah’s head snapped around. “The steaks!” She grabbed a plate, a long-handled fork and raced out the door.

      Flames leaped up around the steaks. Grease sizzled and sputtered. The rank air smelled of burned meat.

      Sarah stabbed a blackened steak and dragged it onto the plate. She speared the next steak, singeing her wrist in the process. She jerked back and the steak slid off the fork onto the porch.

      “Turn off the propane!” Beth screamed. “You’re gonna catch the whole house on fire.”

      Sarah ceased her efforts to rescue the steaks. Burning down the house was a real possibility. She turned the knob on the propane bottle, but that didn’t immediately extinguish the flames.

      Beth’s shouting had rousted Toby away from the TV.

      “Hey, a bonfire on our porch. That’s cool.”

      Kurt shoved past his son. “I’ll get it.” He twisted the propane knob again, starving the flames of fuel. They sputtered one more time before vanishing.

      In the silence that followed, Sarah took a deep breath. Her heart was rata-tat-tatting so fast she thought it might leap out of her chest.

      “I am so sorry,” she said.

      Kurt took the plate from her and piled the rest of the steaks on it. “No real harm done except to these steaks.”

      The poor things looked like lumps of charcoal. “I’ve never barbecued before. I didn’t know how long—”

      “Talk about being stupid,” Beth complained.

      Kurt nailed her with a look that would have terrified anyone else. It didn’t seem to faze Beth.

      “One more word out of you, young lady, and you’ll do without dinner altogether.”

      “Fine,” she snapped. “Nobody can eat that stuff anyway.” Head held high, ponytail swinging, she stomped back into the house.

      Sarah suspected Beth’s attitude was more self-defense than rebellion.

      Dear Lord, show me a way to help this child, who is so desperately crying out for love and understanding.

      They’d all survived dinner, barely, by scraping off the charred layer on the steaks. Even so, Sarah thought eating the meat was like chewing hardtack.

      With Kurt’s help, she’d cleaned up the kitchen. Then he’d vanished back into his office to work on the accounts. Beth was still upstairs, pouting. Toby had resumed his place in front of the big-screen TV. From her perspective, the show he was watching looked too violent for a nine-year-old. Or an adult, for that matter.

      The family ought to be doing things together, she thought. That’s the only way they’d heal their grief.

      She went to her room to retrieve her oversize tote that contained her ventriloquist’s dummy. Dr. Zoom came fully equipped with a white lab coat, stethoscope,