Their Ranch Reunion. Mindy Obenhaus

house would benefit her. Not only could she book the three rooms there individually but also market the entire house to those larger parties. Whatever the case, the addition of Livie’s house would virtually double her income.

      “I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” She took hold of the phone. “Would you like to reserve it?”

      “Yes, please. For Friday and Saturday night.”

      Ah, yes. There was nothing Carly loved more than a fully booked weekend. Especially this time of year when things tended to be a little sparse. Looked like she’d better get her breakfast menus planned. Though it was still a few weeks away, Easter weekend was extra special. There’d be ham to prepare, biscuits, scones...

      She took the caller’s information, hanging up as the kitchen timer went off.

      Standing, she grabbed a pot holder and moved to the commercial-style range to retrieve a large baking sheet from the oven. Within seconds, her kitchen was filled with the aromas of cinnamon and vanilla.

      She crossed the wide expanse of original hardwood and deposited the pan on the island. Until learning she’d inherited half of Livie’s house, Carly had been saving to remodel the kitchen at Granger House. While the room was large, it had one of the worst layouts ever, with the stove by itself at one end of the room and the refrigerator clear over on the other. Not to mention the lack of counter space. But since she’d be using that money to buy out Andrew’s half of Livie’s house, she’d just have to live with it a while longer.

      Too bad Andrew had to be so difficult. Okay, so the house had been in his family for generations. She’d give him that. But unless he was planning to move back to Ouray, what possible use could he have for it? The place would just sit there empty.

      Nope, no matter how she looked at it, there was no way this co-owning thing was going to work, and she couldn’t help wondering why Livie had set things up that way. Unless...

      She picked up her spatula to remove the cookies, then stopped. Oh, say it wasn’t so. Livie had never tried to play matchmaker for Andrew and her while she was alive. Why would she do it in death?

      No, no. Carly refused to believe it.

      Still shaking her head, she shoveled the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. Regardless of Livie’s intentions, no matter what they might have been, Carly would simply have to figure out how to convince Andrew to sell her his half. She would not let him rob her of another dream. Not when this one was so close.

      Back when she first took over Granger House from her parents seven years ago, she had grand ideas and had expressed an interest in expanding when the house on the opposite side of them came on the market. Her late husband, Dennis, had never been fond of the idea, though, so she’d tucked those dreams away. After his death two years later, she was too busy caring for Megan and simply trying to keep up to even think about anything other than what was absolutely necessary. But as Megan got older, Carly would occasionally revisit her daydreams. Still, with the other house no longer available, that’s all they were.

      Until Livie’s death. Suddenly it was as though God had granted the desires of her heart in a way she never would have imagined. After all, just like Granger House, Livie’s house was only a block off Main Street, affording guests easy access to just about everything in town. And the fact that a narrow drive was all that separated the two houses made it the perfect candidate for her expansion.

      At least until Andrew showed up, thinking he was going to claim his inheritance.

      She let go a sigh. How was she, a simple small-town girl who’d spent her entire life in Ouray, going to convince some bigwig businessman like Andrew? It wasn’t as if their romantic history would score her any brownie points.

      Her gaze drifted to the cookies. And plying him with food wasn’t likely to do the job, either.

      Lord, show me what I should do. Because right now, it looks as though Andrew and I are at an impasse.

      The back door opened then, bringing a surge of cool air as nine-year-old Megan bounded inside.

      “Mmm...cookies.” Her daughter dropped her backpack on the wooden floor.

      “You’re just in time. They’re fresh out of the oven.”

      Without bothering to take off her coat, Megan rushed over and grabbed one. “Yay, snickerdoodles!” She took a big bite.

      Carly snagged her own cookie, pleased that her daughter appreciated her culinary skills. And running a bed-and-breakfast, she was almost always cooking something. If not directly for her guests, then she was trying out new recipes. Something her friends benefited from, making it a win-win for Carly. They gave her feedback and she didn’t have to worry about her waistline. Well, not as much, anyway.

      “How was school?”

      With the cinnamon-coated treat sticking out of her mouth, Megan shrugged out of her coat. “Good.” She dropped the puffy thing on a hook near the door before plopping into one of the Windsor-style chairs at the table to finish her snack. “Who’s at Ms. Livie’s house?”

      Carly glanced out the window to see Andrew’s big black truck once again in the driveway. With all the noise that thing made, she was surprised she hadn’t heard him pull in.

      Why was he back, anyway? After watching him leave this morning, she’d hoped he’d decided to stay away until they reached an agreement.

      “That would be her grandson, Andrew.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and continued on to the refrigerator for the milk.

      “Do I know him?” Megan’s blue eyes followed Carly as she moved toward her daughter.

      She set the glass, along with another cookie, in front of her. “He’s the one who played cards with you, me and Livie a couple of years ago.”

      “When Ms. Livie’s daughter died, right?”

      “That’s him.” She ruffled Megan’s straighter-than-straight strawberry blond hair, a trait she definitely didn’t inherit from her mother. But after decades of fighting her natural curls, Carly had finally learned to embrace them. “You have a good memory.”

      “Why is he at Ms. Livie’s house now, though?” Megan picked up the second cookie. “I thought she gave it to you.”

      Carly cringed. She’d had no business mentioning that to Megan until the estate had been settled. Yet in her excitement over the news all those months back, she’d blurted it out without thinking.

      “She gave me half of it. And she gave Andrew the other half.”

      “Which half is yours?”

      Carly puffed out a laugh. She could only imagine what was going through her daughter’s nine-year-old mind. As if Carly and Andrew could just slap a piece of tape down the middle.

      “Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple.” And if she couldn’t get Andrew to sell her his half, she’d be stuck taking in people’s accounting books until Megan graduated college.

      Megan stood, dusting the crumbs from her hands. “Can I go over there?”

      “I don’t think that’s a very good idea right now.” If ever. At least, not with Andrew there. Mr. Serious likely wouldn’t tolerate kids.

      Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he was up to. Not after catching him removing baseboards this morning. Baseboards he’d better plan on putting back, because she wasn’t about to stand by and let him strip the home of its character.

      “On second thought, maybe we should go over there and say hi.” And if their presence happened to remind him that she was keeping tabs on him, so be it.

      Megan paused at the island, looking very serious. “We should take him some cookies.”

      Hand perched on her hip as she watched her daughter, Carly wasn’t sure how she felt about the suggestion. However, it was Livie who’d always said