Stolen Moments. B.J. Daniels

Olivia?”

      “Levi!” Natalie whispered beside her.

      With a start, Levi glanced up from her plate to see her friend Natalie making eye motions toward the head of the table. Levi shifted her gaze to find her father standing, wineglass in hand, waiting patiently. And she realized he’d been calling her name. Her given name.

      For the second time that afternoon, James Marshall McCord had her worried. He never called her Olivia. She’d been Levi since infancy, leaving little doubt how much he’d hoped for a son. But she’d never minded. She liked “Levi.” It fit the tomboy she’d been, the ranch woman she’d become. It fit her in a way she suspected “Olivia” never would.

      “Levi?” he asked, smiling down the table at her. “Are you all right?”

      That was exactly what she wanted to ask him. She met his gaze and saw something flicker in his blue eyes. He’d lied. And he knew that she knew it.

      “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, brushing a tendril of hair back from her face. Her hair was long and dark, a wild mane of loose waves that fell to the middle of her back. Unlike her father’s once pale blond, straight hair. His blond had changed to white over the years, making him look even more distinguished. Levi, she was told, had taken after her mother in not only her looks and hair, but her strong-willed temperament.

      “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”

      James Marshall laughed, his gaze lingering affectionately on her for a long moment. “It’s all right, Levi. I know how politics bores you and lately that’s all we’ve talked about. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

      Levi felt like the traitor she was. She didn’t just dislike politics, she hated it and she wished her father did, as well. She knew she was being selfish. Why couldn’t she be more like her cousin Robin, who not only wholeheartedly supported Senator James Marshall McCord’s political rise, but worked as his aide? Or even her friend Natalie, who at least took an interest.

      But as Levi looked down the table at her father, it startled her to think that this larger-than-life handsome man with the deep blue eyes and an abundance of Texas charm could be the next president of the United States. And according to the polls, he had a good chance once he threw his hat into the ring. If he threw his hat into the ring.

      “I was about to make a toast,” James Marshall said, his voice soft, his gaze warm as it moved around the table from Mary, who had always been more like family than their cook, to his top advisor Whitt Emory, to his niece and aide Robin, to Levi’s closest friend, Natalie.

      He raised his wineglass. “You have all made this day very special by being here on the Altamira. I am very thankful to have you in my life.” His gaze stopped on Levi. “To Texas and all of you. Happy Thanksgiving!”

      Levi lifted her glass without taking her eyes away from her father’s face. She took a sip of her wine, not even tasting it. She replayed the conversation she’d overheard between Sheriff Clint Richards and her father again, trying to convince herself that she’d just imagined he’d lied to the sheriff earlier.

      “I got your message,” Clint had said to the senator. Both men had had their backs to her, neither aware of her presence just inside the den doorway. “I came right out.”

      “Thanks, Clint, I—I’m sorry I bothered you, especially on Thanksgiving.”

      “You made it sound urgent,” the sheriff said.

      “One of the hands thought he’d found a place where some fence had been cut,” her father said. “But it doesn’t look like any cattle are missing or any real damage done.”

      “You’re sure that’s all it was?” Clint sounded surprised.

      Her father nodded. “I feel foolish for calling you. Especially today.”

      “No problem. I’ll keep a lookout.”

      That was when her father had turned to see her standing in the doorway. It was more than his startled expression. More than the fact that this was the first time Levi had heard about a cut fence. More than the mutual knowledge that the senator hadn’t been involved in running the ranch since he’d gotten into politics, years before. They both knew the ranch foreman, Freddie Caulder, wouldn’t have gone to him with the problem; he would have come to her.

      Her father was lying. There was no cut fence. She could see it in his expression. Feel it in her heart. Nor would her father call Clint out on Thanksgiving over a cut fence.

      James Marshall dropped his gaze from her. “Can you stay for Thanksgiving dinner?” he had asked Clint.

      Levi had stepped away, shocked. She knew her father wouldn’t lie to Clint unless he had a good reason. So why had he really called the sheriff?

      Clint politely declined dinner, saying he already had plans. She watched the sheriff leave, intending to have a word alone with her father.

      But then Whitt had arrived, followed close behind by Robin and Natalie. A few minutes later, dinner was served.

      “I was just telling Robin that the three of us should go on a vacation,” her father said now.

      A vacation? Now? She glanced over at her cousin. Robin looked as surprised as Levi.

      “I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Senator.” Whitt spoke up, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to him.

      Had her father changed his mind about running for president? Levi felt a surge of hope, then stopped herself. When James Marshall set his mind to something, nothing could deter him. He loved politics and believed he could make a difference. She knew he’d make a fine president. But she did wonder why he hadn’t declared his candidacy yet. What was holding him back? Was he having second thoughts? Did she dare hope?

      “You are still planning to announce your candidacy for president?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

      “Of course he’s going to run,” Robin said, sounding so proud of him that Levi felt herself flush with guilt.

      “I just thought we could get away for a few days before...before all the craziness really begins,” her father said.

      He was going to run, she thought. That was why he suggested a vacation now, before the holidays, before he declared, because who knew when they’d have time together after that.

      “This just doesn’t seem like the time for you to leave, Jim,” Whitt said.

      “Whitt’s right, Uncle Jim,” Robin echoed. “There is so much to be done. But it was a nice idea. Remember when the three of us went to Big Bend National Park?” That was right after Robin had come to live with them, not long after her father had been killed.

      Levi felt her father’s gaze on her and looked up to meet it. Did his reason for lying to Sheriff Richards have anything to do with this sudden vacation for the three of them?

      “You’re right, of course, Whitt. You too, Robin.” Her father looked disappointed. Or was it worried?

      She stared at him, her mouth dry and her eyes burning. What was going on? Something. And damned if she wasn’t going to find out. Right after dinner was over, Thanksgiving or not.

      Mary served pumpkin pie with whipped cream, offering her two cents worth as she joined them again at the table.

      The short, plump redheaded cook had been with the McCord family since before Levi was born. Catherine Olivia McCord had died when Levi was three. James’ Marshall had never remarried. Mary had been like a mother to Levi, and later to Robin.

      “You have to announce your candidacy before the New Year,” Mary said with authority. “Give the people of this country something to look forward to in the new millennium.”

      “If the world doesn’t come to an end,” Whitt offered with a laugh.

      The conversation around