Montana Mistletoe. Roxanne Rustand

years younger with nothing but a bright future rolling out in front of her like a red carpet.

      No disappointments...yet.

      No misunderstandings or heartbreaks, or abrupt, wrenching changes in her life to catapult her in directions she’d never imagined. Her whole life had seemed as bright and new as that of a newborn foal back then, as limitless as the stars strewn across the sky.

      That naive, youthful sense of being destined for great adventures had certainly faded over time, yet here she was in Montana once again, single and free to go wherever her dreams led her.

      After a long, hot shower, she felt as if her bones had dissolved to molten honey, but at the sound of the twins squabbling over something in the living room, she quickly pulled on her jeans and an old red sweatshirt and shuffled down the hall to the living room.

      Betty sat in an upholstered chair, her eyes closed and her walker at her side. The girls were arguing over a Candy Land board game on the floor, with the colorful game pieces flung far and wide.

      “Girls,” Abby whispered, dropping to the floor next to them with a smile. “You need to be quiet. Your grandma is sleeping.”

      Both of them edged away from the game board, then got up and disappeared into their bedroom. Apparently neither of them had listened to Jess’s remonstration last night.

      “I’m just resting my eyes,” Betty murmured. “It’s all right.”

      “Thanks for staying out here while I took a shower. I can take over now if you’d like to go lie down.”

      Betty opened one eye and peered at her. “After the morning you had, you’re the one who ought to go take a nap.”

      Abby smiled. “I doubt Jess is snoozing, so I don’t need to either. Did he ever come up to the house after we got back?”

      “Just for a quick sandwich. He won’t be back in till dinner. Have you looked outside lately?”

      Abby looked toward the wall of windows, bisected with a set of French doors, that faced the covered porch. Only a faint outline of the nearest pine tree was visible through the driving snow, and its branches were whipping in the wind. “Wow.”

      “Looks like we’re getting everything the weatherman said and more. I set out some kerosene lanterns and candles in the kitchen in case our electricity goes. We’ve also got a couple cords of split firewood on the porch, so that always helps.”

      “What would you like me to do?”

      “Get the fireplace going. I can’t bend down to put the logs in, and it always feels so cozy in here with a fire crackling.”

      “Gladly.” Abby rose and headed for the French doors. To the right, she could see a stack of firewood covered with a tarp. “What else?”

      “Fill as many pitchers with water as you can find, in case the power goes out. While you were gone, I put a roast, potatoes, carrots and onions in the slow cooker, so at least that should be done for dinner.” Her eyes twinkled. “Unless, of course, we lose our power.”

      “It already smells wonderful. But I really hope you didn’t try to do too much while we were gone.”

      Betty waved a dismissive hand at her. “Only what I could. Maybe you and the girls can make biscuits and a dessert.”

      “Gladly.” Abby retrieved an armload of firewood and knelt in front of the fireplace.

      In a few minutes, cheery flames were dancing up through the fragrant wood, but she could hear the wind howling outside and just the sound made her shiver.

      “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a nice nap before dinner?” Abby offered her a hand.

      “I’ll catch a few winks right here.” She settled deeper in her chair. “It’s easier to stay right where I am.”

      Down the hall, Abby paused at the doorway to the girls’ room. They’d pushed the door nearly shut, but left a sliver of it open. She knocked lightly. “Girls?”

      They were talking and didn’t hear her.

      “I don’t like her.”

      “Me neither,” the other girl said glumly. “I heard Gramma talking on the phone. Abby used to be his girlfriend.”

      “What if she’s like the lady with the black hair? Gramma said that one wants to marry Uncle Jess. Eeeuw. She always says we look like vegetables.”

      There was a long, painful silence.

      “But if mommy comes, she can marry Uncle Jess and we can stay here forever. I don’t want to leave.”

      Abby knocked louder, and pushed the door open a little wider. “Would anyone like to help me make biscuits?”

      They fell silent. Bella traced the swirls of the carpet with her forefinger. Sophie picked at a loose thread on the hem of her jeans.

      “Chocolate-chip cookies? Or a cake? When I was your age, I loved to help because then I got to lick the beaters afterward.” Abby gave a blissful sigh. “And that was always sooo good.”

      Neither responded.

      “But maybe you two don’t like cake or cookies,” she added thoughtfully. “I could make...sauerkraut pudding. Or asparagus pie instead.”

      They looked up at her in horror, though when Abby couldn’t quite contain a smile, Bella caught on and scowled up at her. “We don’t wanna help.”

      “Your uncle Jess explained why I’m here, right?”

      Bella looked away.

      “’Cause Gramma’s sick,” Sophie whispered. “But we can take care of her. We’re good helpers.”

      “Oh, I’m sure you’re the very best,” Abby agreed, opening the door a little wider. “If she asks you to do something, I’m sure you do it right away.”

      The girls exchanged guilty looks.

      “But when you’re in school, there’s no one here to help her,” Abby said sadly. “And making dinner can be awfully hard, with those heavy pots and pans. Right? And then there’s laundry to do and beds to make. Grandma Betty is too weak to do all of that and Uncle Jess doesn’t want you girls working that hard.”

      “But we could. We’re big girls,” Bella insisted.

      “Yes, that’s true. But he hired me to be here for a couple months, which isn’t very long. While I’m here, do you think we could be friends?”

      They didn’t answer.

      “Well, you girls have fun in here. I’m going to go make my very favorite cookies. If you want some, they’ll be on the kitchen counter.” Abby looked out their bedroom window at the deepening snow. “If you really want a special treat, we could even make snow ice cream.”

      Smiling at the puzzled looks on their faces, Abby headed for the kitchen.

      They hadn’t been impressed with her explanations, probably hadn’t trusted that she would really leave, and with Betty as their grandmother, cookies were surely not a rare treat.

      But she’d seen the curiosity and flicker of excitement over the possibility of snow ice cream, and perhaps that would be too enticing to miss.

      * * *

      At five o’clock Jess stamped the snow from his boots and came in the back door of the house. The scent of chocolate-chip cookies and the aroma of something wonderful emanating from the slow cooker made him even hungrier.

      But the scene at the kitchen counter was far more captivating.

      In a scene of domestic bliss, Abby stood at the counter in an apron, her blond hair in two neat braids trailing down her back, with the twins standing on chairs beside her. A heaping bowl of what looked like snow sat in front of them