A Coulter's Christmas Proposal. Lois Dyer Faye

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      “Everyone’s gone, except for Zach, Mariah, Cynthia and me,” Cade confirmed. “It’s nearly midnight. Come join us in the kitchen.”

      “Sure.” Eli stood, hearing bones crack as he stretched, yawning. Fully awake, he followed Cade down the hall and into the kitchen.

      The big room was brightly lit, stainless-steel appliances and the polished floor’s black-and-white tiles gleaming. The quick efficiency he’d noticed in the chef and her helpers earlier was obvious in the kitchen’s appearance. Gone was the earlier clutter of platters, stemware and food—now everything was spotlessly clean, the counters neat and tidy.

      Mariah and Cynthia perched on the tall stools at the island counter, their gowns bright splashes of crimson and blue in the black-and-white kitchen. Both women were barefoot; their stiletto-heeled sandals lay tumbled on the floor beneath their seats.

      “Hey, Eli. Want dessert?” Zach lifted the tray he carried in one hand. It was loaded with miniature iced cakes.

      Cynthia swiveled on her seat. “We were all so busy circulating that we barely touched the buffet, so we’re making up for it now.”

      “Sounds good. Count me in.” He took a seat across the island counter from Cade as his brother settled onto the empty stool next to Mariah. “How was the party?” he asked.

      “The media people were impressed, so I’m counting it a success,” Zach said, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

      “Everyone I talked with said they loved the way you restored the Lodge,” Mariah commented. “In fact, an older couple from California told me it looked exactly as they remembered it.”

      “That must have been Nico Tomaselli and his wife,” Zach told her. “He’s a movie producer who was a friend of Mom and Dad’s and stayed at the Lodge in the old days.”

      “So many people asked about reservation information that I lost track of how many cards I gave out,” Cynthia said with a laugh. “I think we’re a hit.”

      “I’ll drink to that.” Mariah lifted her glass.

      “You’re toasting our success with milk?” Zach asked her in disbelief.

      “I had enough champagne earlier,” she told him with a twinkle.

      “Which was really good, by the way,” Cade told Cynthia. “I think you should keep that supplier.”

      “I’ll make a note,” she told him as she slipped down from her stool and walked to the fridge. “He has great imported ale, too.”

      “Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Zach told her. “Champagne and wine are okay but real men drink beer, right, Cade?”

      Eli sat quietly, a half smile on his face as he listened to his brothers tease the two women. He hadn’t wanted to return to Montana but he couldn’t deny he’d missed the good-natured harassment that always happened when his brothers got together.

      “What are you drinking, Eli?” Cade asked.

      “I’ll have a beer.”

      Cade snagged another bottle out of the fridge and returned to the counter, sliding the bottle across the tiled top to Eli. “Here you go. Did you eat earlier?”

      Eli nodded as he twisted off the bottle cap. “The chef grilled a steak and added a baked potato and salad. Great food.”

      “That’s Jane,” Cynthia said with pride. “She’s a fabulous cook.”

      “Damned straight.” Cade looked at Mariah. “Between Jane and Mariah’s boss at the café, who makes the best desserts in three counties, Indian Springs is turning into gourmet land.”

      Zach laughed, Mariah and Cynthia joining him.

      “Gourmet land?” Eli said with a bemused grin. “Did I make a wrong turn somewhere? This is the Triple C, right?”

      “Yeah, it’s the Triple C, but a lot of things have changed since we were all here last,” Zach said.

      Smiles disappeared and faces grew solemn. The kitchen suddenly seemed full of the ghosts of memories, not all of which were good, or happy.

      “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to talk about Dad’s will, Eli,” Cade said. “You’ll need to see Ned Anderson, the estate attorney, tomorrow to get the official version, but basically, Dad left the Triple C to all of us, share and share alike. But he left specific parts of it to each of us that are ours alone. As Zach told you when you called from Spain, he left you Mom’s studio and the contents.”

      “I’m still having trouble believing it,” Eli told him. “It would be easier to accept that the world had just shifted on its axis and was spinning upside down.” He shook his head, frowning first at Cade, then Zach, looking for explanations. “He blamed us for Mom’s death. And he hated my artwork. When I was ten, he threatened to lock me in the cabin’s cellar if he caught me drawing. Why would he give me her studio?”

      “I know it doesn’t sound logical.” Cade’s deep voice held a wealth of understanding. “Zach and I had the same reaction when we found out about Dad’s will.” He nodded at Zach. “He left the Lodge to Zach and the cattle to me. Brodie gets the horses.”

      Eli’s gaze sharpened. “What horses?”

      “We’re not sure, but we think the Kigers might still be up on Tunk Mountain,” Zach answered. “We haven’t ridden out there to check yet.”

      “And we won’t until Brodie comes home,” Cade said. “I figure he should decide when and how he wants to deal with what Dad left him.”

      “From the brief info you gave me on the phone, it doesn’t sound likely Brodie will be able to check whether the Kigers are in the far pasture,” Eli said. “Even four-wheel drive can’t make it through that rough country, at least not all the way to Tunk Mountain, and Brodie might not be able to sit a horse.”

      Cade shook his head, worry creasing lines beside his mouth. “Hard to say whether he will or not. The doctors say he won’t, but Brodie says he will.”

      “Then he will,” Eli said with easy conviction. “You know Brodie. He’s never let anyone tell him what he can or can’t do.”

      “I sure as hell hope you’re right,” Zach said with feeling.

      “So am I.” Eli couldn’t conceive of a world in which his brother wasn’t sitting a horse, chasing cattle or riding rodeo. It was impossible to comprehend. “I guess we’ll know when he gets here. Which is … when?” He looked at each of the four in turn and registered the worried glances they exchanged. “Don’t tell me he isn’t coming home.”

      “We’re not sure,” Cade said with a sigh. “Zach and I went to see him in the convalescent center in California. Brodie agreed to come home only after Zach promised to find a way to break the will if Brodie didn’t want to stay on the Triple C after he’d checked in with us.”

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