Summer Days (Fool's Gold #7)(43)

May moved off with the helper and showed him where to put the animal. The driver appeared with a light brown, slightly smaller llama, and followed the first.

“Old llamas?” Heidi murmured, moving closer to Rafe. “I kind of admire her philosophy.”

“Sure. She bought them to protect your pregnant goats. What’s not to like?”

“Feeling a little stressed, are we?”

“Someone needs to rein her in.”

“She’s your mother.”

“Someone other than me.” He glanced longingly toward the west. Somewhere in San Francisco was a meeting he should probably be attending.

Once the three llamas were in place, two elderly sheep were led down the ramp. They went in the fenced area next to the llamas.

“Anything else?” Rafe asked, almost afraid to look in the trailer.

“That’s it,” the driver said, and handed over the receipts.

May took them happily and gazed out at her animals. “I’ve been doing research on how to care for them. Glen’s been a big help.”

“Lots of animals in the carnival?” Rafe asked, wondering how much worse things were going to get before they shifted to better.

“Not really,” Heidi admitted. “A couple of goats and a few dogs. It wasn’t a circus. You’re going to need a large-animal vet. I use Cameron McKenzie. I’ll get you his number.”

A vet. Right, because old animals would need plenty of care.

“You couldn’t start taking in cats, like other women your age?” he asked his mother.

She swatted his arm. “Don’t act like I’m losing it. I’ve thought this over, and having these animals on the ranch is what I want to do. They make me happy.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t as if he could tell her not to be happy, nor did he want to.

May wandered toward the fencing, where she could gaze at her new critters. Rafe rubbed his forehead.

“I really admire your mother,” Heidi admitted. “She’s full of life.”

“That’s not all she’s full of.”

Heidi grinned. “You love her and would do anything for her.”

“It’s my downfall. Why couldn’t I be one of those guys who hates his mother? Life would be a lot easier.”

“You don’t walk away from your responsibilities. Except when it comes to Clay. I find that very interesting.”

A statement that had come out of nowhere. “I have llamas and sheep in my life now. Can we not talk about my brother for a few days? Unless you’d rather discuss your recent drunkenness.”

Heidi pressed her lips together. “No. We don’t have to talk about that.”

“See? Compromise can be your friend.” He put his arm around her and guided her toward the barn. “Come on, goat girl. God knows what else my mother has bought on eBay. So, you can pass me nails while I finish the roof on this barn.”

“Oh, wow. That’s practically a date. Later, can I wear your letterman’s jacket while we go get a milk shake?”

“Sure.” He glanced down at her. “I’ll bet you were cute in high school.”

“I’m cute now.”

He laughed. “You’ve been hanging around my mother a little too much. You’re adopting her attitude.”

“I’m learning from the master, which is going to be a whole lot of trouble for you.”

He had a feeling she was right about that.

* * *

HEIDI CAREFULLY REMOVED octagon-shaped bars of soap from molds. The tiny dried flowers she’d placed at the bottom of the molds had set perfectly, in the center, just visible through a thin layer of creamy soap.

While her basic soap recipe had remained the same, she was experimenting, trying to make the bars more attractive. She’d been doing a lot of research online and checking out different bulletin boards devoted to small-scale retail endeavors like hers. Rafe had been right—there was a whole world out there looking for handmade, organic, natural products.

She set the soaps on a rack. She would let them cure for a couple of weeks before wrapping them in the specialty paper she’d bought. One of her new online friends had introduced her to a graphic-arts student, who had designed an appealing logo in exchange for being able to use the design as part of a school project. Heidi had received her first shipment of logo stickers that afternoon.

She picked up a bar of soap she’d made two weeks ago and neatly wrapped it, sealing the edges with a sticker.

“How’s it going?”

She jumped, then turned, feeling both guilty and defiant.

Rafe stood in the doorway of the small bedroom she’d taken over for her office. It was tucked in back of the house, by the mudroom, giving her easy access to her supplies, and it was far from Glen’s room, so she didn’t have to hear the wild noises at night.

“I’m fine. Are you checking up on me?”

As soon as the words popped out, she wanted to slap her hand over her mouth.

Both his dark eyebrows rose. He reached up, grabbing the top of the door frame and stretching just enough to make his T-shirt ride up to the waistband of his jeans, although not high enough to expose anything interesting. It was about seven in the evening. Rafe had showered after his long day, and they’d had dinner. May and Glen were watching TV and, last Heidi had seen, Rafe had been on the porch, checking his email.