"Can't we rent just one movie?" Evan asked earnestly.
"No VCR, guys," Cale reminded them of the obvious fact that their four-year-old brains refused to accept, "and no TV."
"Why didn't Aunt Val buy a TV?" Eric lamented.
"Montana's a dumb place," Evan told his father. "It's cold and it snows all the time and there's nothing to do. It's dumb."
"I beg your pardon"--Quinn sat down on the edge of the wing chair--"but if I could put my two cents in..."
"Take your best shot," Cale invited.
"Montana is far from being a dumb place. As a matter of fact, they call it the 'Treasure State' because of all the great stuff that you can find here."
"Like what?" Eric's eyes narrowed.
"Like sapphires and copper..."
"What are sapphires?" Eric asked.
"Pretty blue stones that people set into jewelry. And of course, there are gold mines and silver mines..."
"Real gold mines?"
"Yes. And there are lots of great things to see in Montana. Get your dad to take you to one of the ghost towns one day when the weather clears up." "Ghost towns?" Eric looked up at his father, his eyes widening. "Real ghost towns?"
"Oh, yes," Cale told them. "Several not far from here."
"They're making it up, Eric," Evan told his brother.
"No, we are not. Why, not two miles from here, at the bottom of the other side of the mountain, is Settler's Head."
"Settler's Head?" the boys asked in unison.
Quinn nodded. "If you want to hear the story, you have to sit down."
They sat, and listened as Quinn and their father traded tales of this ghost town or that.
Maybe Montana wouldn't be so bad, they concluded, if the snow ever stopped and they could get to see all those neat places with the neat names like Anguish and Celebration, Indian Toes and Crow Skull.
Talking about it kept them entertained until twelve- thirty, when they had a lunch of tuna sandwiches and canned soup.
"Now what can we do?" the boys asked.
Quinn looked across the room to Cale to see if he looked like he had any suggestions. The panic settling in his eyes told her he was fresh out of ideas. "Hmmm. I have an idea. Cale, do you mind if I poke in your kitchen?"
"Be my guest," he said gratefully.
She went through the cupboards, taking down everything she thought she might be able to use. Just as the boys began to wrestle across the living room floor, Quinn appeared in the doorway and asked, "Would anyone like to make Christmas cookies?"
Three male McKenzies froze where they stood.
"You mean, real ones?" Eric asked.
"Yes. We have everything we need out here. Who wants to help?"
It was tight quarters, the space in the kitchen being limited, but before long, the cabin was filled with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla and citrus. Cale scraped oranges for the rind to go into a special orange cookie that Quinn's grandmother used to make. The boys took turns stirring batter and cutting little shapes out of sugar cookie dough with a butter knife. By the time the afternoon had ended, they had stacks of cookie stars and baseballs, footballs colored brown with cocoa and little half-moons. The boys were delighted with their efforts.
And all the while, the snow continued to swirl and the wind continued to blow. "Really?" Quinn frowned, looking out the window while she talked with her sister Sunny, who had arrived at the ranch the day before. "It's not snowing at all down there? Sunny, it's total whiteout up here. You can't see beyond the window___No"--Quinn lowered her voice--"I am not making it up. And nothing is happening between Cale and me... we're sharing space, that's all. Exactly. Shelter from the storm. Of course not... we're old friends. Yes, that's all, Sunny. Of course, I'm sure," she fairly hissed at her sister, who, despite Quinn's assurance, didn't sound at all convinced.
"How is Sunny?" Cale looked faintly amused.
"She's fine. She has a darling little girl named Lilly whom she adopted about two years ago," Quinn told him, wondering if he'd been eavesdropping. "When she divorced her husband, she let him buy out her share of their business--a move we all questioned at the time, but she was adamant. Right now, she's looking for something else to do. Eventually, I imagine she'll probably start another business."
"And your other sisters?" Cale sat in the high-back chair, and Quinn took a seat on the sofa, pushing the pile of blankets aside to make a space.
The cabin was oddly quiet, the boys having gone to bed without fuss after Cale told them a rousing, though slightly embellished, story about how the ghost town of Settler's Head really got its name.
"Liza has her own radio talk show in Seattle--I guess Val told you that--and CeCe is hawking jewelry on television." She grinned.
"She's what?"
"CeCe is a sales host on a shopping channel."
"You're kidding." He laughed.
"No, I am not. And if you see her, you will be wise to wipe off that smirk. She takes her job very seriously, and loves every blessed minute of it. She's having a better time than she ever did reporting the news in Abilene."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that she's happy. I always liked CeCe. She was sort of like everyone's big sister. I remember when she used to catch for Sky and me when Trevor wasn't around."
"I remember. You would never let me play."
"Not while you were little, anyway," he said, ancient memories flooding back, of Quinn throwing wobbly pitches to Cale, which he would hit into the woods. Of the two of them, chasing after the ball and taking their time in finding it...