Now, she sat on the couch in her new living room and looked at all of the magazines, books, postcards and brochures she had spread out around her. She’d practically bought out the gift shop downstairs, buying up every item she could find pertaining directly to Jarrod Ridge.
And there had been plenty to choose from. The brochures listed every activity to be found at the resort and the book described the history of the place. She’d stared at the black-and-white photos of her grandparents and biological father with a fascination that had kept her captive for nearly twenty minutes. The grainy images of men in worn jeans and cowboy hats were so far removed from the tidy heritage she’d grown up hearing about, it was fascinating. She’d looked for resemblances between the people in those old pictures and herself and she’d found them. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her mouth. It was odd to see something of herself in people she had never met.
Yet in a weird way, it was almost comforting.
Her family was bigger than she’d ever imagined. They had been adventurers, dreamers. Men and women who had come to the middle of nowhere and built a life, a legacy that had lasted. Their dreams had grown and blossomed and had become something very special.
And she was a part of it.
A very small link in a lengthy chain.
When a knock sounded on her door, she was at first surprised, then a second later, a little worried about who might be dropping by. But then, she thought, it might be Christian. He might have decided to come back and take her on a little tour of the hotel. That thought spurred her off the couch and toward the front door. She fluffed her hair, smoothed her shirt and smiled to herself at the prospect of being with him again.
But when she opened the door, there was a woman standing there, holding two bottles of wine.
“Red or white?” she asked, walking past Erica into the living room.
“I’m sorry?” Confused, Erica just watched her.
“Red or white? Which do you prefer?”
“Uh, that depends, I guess…”
The woman grinned at her. “Good answer. I’m your sister, Melissa. And I’ve just stolen some wine from our brother Guy’s private reserve so that you and I can get to know each other.”
Hard to feel out of sorts or uncomfortable with Melissa Jarrod beaming goodwill toward her. Although the woman did manage to make Erica feel a little frumpy in her wrinkled clothes. Melissa was wearing sleek black jeans, an off the shoulder, silk turquoise top and black sandals that were really nothing more than three slinky straps and a three-inch heel. Her long blond hair hung loose down her back and her wide blue eyes were sparkling with challenge and welcome.
“You stole the wine from Guy?” Erica repeated, closing the door, then turning to face her sister.
“Sure did. There may be hell to pay tomorrow, but tonight, we party.”
“That actually sounds like a great plan,” Erica said, smiling.
Melissa grinned right back. “Just so you know,” she said, “if we both drink it, we both face Guy’s wrath. A united sister front.”
“Sisters,” Erica repeated.
Melissa wrinkled her nose then shrugged. “I know. Sounds weird still, doesn’t it? Does to me, too. But I think you and I are going to make a terrific team.”
Erica felt a bit of her earlier tension slide off her shoulders. Looking into her sister’s eyes, knowing that this welcome was genuine, made her feel that maybe making a home at Jarrod Ridge wasn’t going to be as difficult as she had thought it would be.
“You know,” Erica said, “I think you’re right. So, do you know if they stocked wineglasses in my new kitchen?”
Melissa led the way and threw back over her shoulder, “Since I’m the one who ordered the stocking done, I happen to know that wineglasses were first on the list.”
“Excellent,” Erica said following her into the tiny kitchen. “I’ll make some popcorn, so let’s start with the white. What do you think?”
Melissa set both bottles down onto the counter, then turned and held out her hand to Erica. “It’s a good choice. Guy stocks the best sauvignon blanc anywhere in Colorado.”
“And how will he feel about us helping ourselves?” Erica asked as she took Melissa’s outstretched hand in hers for a shake.
Shrugging, Melissa said, “Guess we’ll find out. Together?”
“Together,” Erica agreed and for the first time since she’d arrived in Colorado, felt that there was a real chance she would be able to make her own place there.
Then the two women moved companionably in the small kitchen, getting to know each other as they worked. Halfway through the second bottle of wine—they’d decided to open another bottle of white that had been stocked in Erica’s fridge—the two women were well on their way to being fast friends.
“You make excellent popcorn,” Melissa announced.
“Thank you. I told Christian I could cook.”
“And was he impressed?” Melissa shook her head. “No, never mind. Probably not. The only things that impresses Christian are ledgers, files and in junctions.”
“You’ve known him a long time?” Erica asked, settling back into the couch and curling her feet up beneath her.
Melissa was tucked into the opposite corner of the couch. “Forever,” she said. “Since we were kids. Of course, back then, Christian was working for the resort and dear old dad didn’t approve of family and employees hanging out together. But I saw him all the time and the boys and he were sort of friends even back then. When Christian was a teenager, my father took an interest in him.” She frowned, took a sip of wine and said, “Dad loved to point out that Christian didn’t have any of the advantages that we had and yet his drive to succeed eclipsed ours.” Shaking her head at the memory, she said, “Let me tell you, there was a lot of irritation toward the great Christian when we were kids. Dad dangled his accomplishments in front of us like a perpetual taunt.” Melissa shook her head in memory. “Good thing Christian was such a nice guy or things might’ve gotten ugly. Anyway, my point is, once Dad noticed him, Christian was around the Manor a lot more.”
Erica’s mind drew up a picture of a young Christian, battling for success, trying to find a place for himself amidst the Jarrod family. It seemed she and he had a lot in common. Here she was, after all, trying to do the same thing that he had so many years ago. But it wasn’t only his adapting into the Jarrod world she was curious about. She wondered what his life had been like before Don Jarrod. In fact, she just wondered about Christian in general. Thoughts of him were never far from her mind, even though she told herself that now was definitely not the time to indulge in an attraction. She had to find her own footing here. Did she really have time to explore a relationship? And did she dare risk trusting someone so new in her life? Besides, it wasn’t as if Christian had made a move. Maybe she was alone in feeling the draw toward him. And if she was, then she’d keep it to herself.
“So,” she said, “your father took an interest in Christian and then what?”
“Our father,” Melissa corrected with a brief smile. “He helped him get into college, then hired him when he got out of law school. He’s worked for the Ridge most of his life, I guess. Dad made up his mind that Christian was going to be the official Jarrod Ridge attorney and that was that. Our father wasn’t someone easy to walk away from.” Then she cocked her head to one side. “Hearing me call him our father must be very strange for you.”
“It is.” Erica thought that was the biggest under-statement of all time. She had hardly had time to wrap her own mind around it. Now finding herself sitting here with her sister was just one more oddity in a world suddenly turned upside down. But despite the craziness, she liked the camaraderie that Melissa had instigated. “Though you’re making it easier.”
“Happy to help. Trust me, I’m glad to have another female in the Jarrod ranks.”
“Thanks,” Erica said and meant it. In all the strangeness of her new world, it was good to have at least one person here who seemed to be on her side. Why Melissa had decided to be an ally seemed clear enough. Heaven knew that Erica would have loved to have a sister to help her stand against her older brothers occasionally.
“Now,” Melissa asked, pointing at the piles of brochures and pamphlets scattered across the coffee table, “what are you doing with all of this stuff?”
Laughing, Erica scooped up one or two of the forgotten pamphlets. “I was trying to learn all I could about Jarrod Ridge.”
Melissa took a sip of wine. “There’s an easier way. Just ask me.”
“Okay, I will as soon as I figure out what to ask.”
“Deal. So, Christian told me you’re in PR?”
Glad for a respite of talking about her now tangled family ties, Erica said, “Yes, and apparently that’s what I’ll be doing here, too.”
“That means working with Trevor. You’ll like him. Easygoing, hard to ruffle,” Melissa said, “unlike the rest of the bunch.”
“I met Guy this afternoon.”
“How’d that go?”
“Cool, but polite.”
“That sounds about right,” Melissa told her. “Of the twins, Guy’s more reasonable. Blake not so much. But he’ll come around. Just don’t let him scare you off.”
That didn’t sound promising, Erica thought, now even more reluctant than ever to meet Blake Jarrod. But there would be no way to avoid it and now, knowing for sure that he was going to be less than welcoming, it gave her a chance to prepare. To be ready to stand up for herself as she’d had to do most of her life.
“I’m here and I’m not leaving,” Erica told her. “If Blake’s unhappy with that, he’ll just have to get over it.”
“Good for you!” Melissa grinned at her, obviously pleased at her new sister’s inner strength.
If only she knew, Erica thought, that right now, her strength was little more than a carefully constructed front. Inside, she was quavering. But she, too, would get over it.
“Now then,” Melissa was saying, “there’s Gavin to deal with, too. He’s sort of shut-off emotionally, so probably won’t be much trouble. But good luck getting a smile out of him.”
“He sounds a lot like my older brothers.”
“That’s right. Christian told me that you’re the only girl in your family, too. What do your brothers think of you being here?”
“They tried to talk me out of it—as did my fa—” she caught herself and amended what she had been going to say. “Walter.”
Melissa reached out and patted her hand, sending her a commiserating smile at the same time. “It’s going to get confusing with all of the fathers around here, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“Look, my dad may have been your biological father, but Walter’s still the man who raised you,” Melissa said softly.
“I know, it’s just…” How to explain her need to stand alone, to find answers? To live with the feelings of guilt and betrayal she had for turning her back on Walter, despite the fact that she’d never really felt any real warmth from him?