Her nose wrinkled. "I've never milked anything."

Rielle twisted the wet bundle until the water ran clear. "It's not fun. My mom used to make goat cheese, but Cha.s.sie Glanzer has a thriving business with excellent milk and cheese so I support her. Also, my mom handcrafted soap, but with Sky Blue creating unique products from natural ingredients, I'd rather buy from them than make anything myself."

"That's my dad's business philosophy too. No reason to compete with a business that's providing a service better than you can offer."

"Smart man, your father."

"Yes, but if you tell him I said that or that I was quoting him, I'll deny it," she said with a grin. "He lives to explain things; in other words...lecture."

Rielle laughed. "You sound like Rory."

"Selling all of this-" she gestured to the piles of fiber, "-is how you get paid?"

"Yep. I chose to make my living this way, in spite of some people believing being self-sufficient with self-sustaining products is an outdated concept. It's hard work and I know I'll never get rich. Growing up, Rory had to pitch in. If we didn't get a good harvest-whether it was veggies, fruit, honey-then we'd have a lean winter, finance-wise and food-wise."

"But you got to spend time together."

"True. It wasn't all work. We had fun too." Probably not the type of fun Sierra knew-shopping, mani-pedis, spa treatments and fancy luncheons.

Stop a.s.suming and ask her. The admiring way she talks about her father makes it obvious her mother isn't the only one who influenced her life.

"What about you? What did you do for fun?"

Sierra pressed her finger into the poppy seeds on her plate, left over from her lemon poppy seed m.u.f.fin. "When I stayed with my mom, we did what she wanted. Sometimes she'd let me choose."

"And when you were with your dad?"

"My dad worked a lot. But when he came home, he didn't flop on the couch and ignore me like a lot of my friends' dads did. He's a sports guy, but he taped all the games so we could do stuff together. Some fun, some that was supposed to teach me a lesson. Dad was big on learning life lessons."

That remark piqued Rielle's curiosity because Gavin had stuck to his guns with not letting Sierra drive until he felt she was ready. "Like what?"

"When I was ten I begged for a puppy and he kept saying no. Finally after a year, he said if I proved to him that I could be responsible with an animal, he'd let me have a pet."

"What did you have to do?"

"Volunteer at the animal shelter for two months. I learned to take care of all kinds of dogs and cats. I scrubbed cages. Emptied litter boxes. Helped with flea baths and combed matted fur. I fed the animals and filled water bowls and cleaned up after them. I saw what an abused and neglected animal looked like and acted like. It was so freakin' sad."

Not the type of parenting reaction she'd expected from Gavin; Rielle thought he would've given his daughter anything without restriction. "Did you end up getting a puppy?"

Sierra shook her head. "Learning all that changed my mind. Especially when my dad said I'd have to take my dog everywhere with me, even to friends' sleepovers, because he had a life that didn't entail babysitting my pet. Of course, my mom offered to buy me any kind of puppy I wanted, mostly to p.i.s.s my dad off."

That behavior wasn't shocking after what Rielle had learned about Gavin's ex-wife. "Well, for never having a dog of your own, Sadie is sure taken with you."

"Probably because she misses Rory, huh?"

"Nope. I got Sadie after Rory went to college, so she's pretty much my dog."

"I thought my dad said you had, like, a pack of dogs?"

Rielle transferred the dyed fiber from the pint-sized gla.s.s jars into individual plastic grocery bags. "That was true the first time he stayed here. We had three dogs. Spuds died last year. Rory's dog, Jingle, is around if she is. I take care of Ben's dogs, Ace and Deuce, whenever he and Ainsley go out of town. So maybe that is a pack."

Sierra watched her tying off the plastic bags. "Now what do you do with that?"

"Heat it in the microwave to set the dye." She set two bags in the microwave and set the timer. "Then it cools, I rinse it, spin out the excess water and hang to dry. The immersion batches on the stove are left to cool to room temp. Then I rinse it, spin out the excess water and hang to dry. Sense a theme?" She pointed to the piles of raw, combed wool. "That is called wool roving. Sometimes I dye it whole, or tie it off and tie-dye it. But this batch I'm hand painting. It's a messy process and I like to use several different colors. The dyed fiber looks weird, but once I spin it into yarn, it is amazing. I can't keep it in stock and I have ten batches to finish."

"Where do you sell it?"

"I've been working with several stores over the years who know my quality is good and I'm not afraid to experiment with different fibers, so that keeps me in a higher paying niche market. I also sell directly to experienced knitters I've met over the years. I supply all sorts of different spun and dyed fibers to a woman who knits projects specifically for publication in how-to books. It's cool to see the patterns she creates from the yarn I've hand-dyed and spun."

Sierra peered in the pot. "That's a really pretty color. It would be so awesome to wear something you've made."

"I've got so much of this burgundy hue; I'll keep some and work on a project over the winter."

"Could you teach me how to knit?" Sierra blurted. "I know you're busy, but if you're just sitting by the fire some night, maybe I could watch you and take notes?"

Rielle was absurdly touched by the request. Sometimes when she looked at Sierra she saw a privileged, world-weary teen. But other times, like now, she saw a sweet girl who was eager to learn something out of the norm because it interested her. "I'd be happy to teach you."

"Really? Cool!"

"Vi won't get upset? I know she likes to do crafty type activities with you."

Sierra shook her head. "Grams crochets, just like my other grandma did. It doesn't interest me because you can knit much cooler things."

"Okay. I've still got a pair of beginner's knitting needles around someplace."

"Yay!"

Rielle took the bags out of the microwave, checked to see if all the dye had been absorbed and set the bags on the cooling rack. Then she put in the next two bags and set the microwave timer.

"Now I know you're big on the barter system, so you have to let me teach you to do something."

"Sierra, that's sweet, but not necessary."

"Fair's fair. And there's one thing I'm good at, because I've been doing it since I could hold a brush."

Please. G.o.d. No.

"I'll give you a makeover!" Sierra jumped off the barstool. "This is gonna be so awesome!"

s.h.i.t. "Well, I need to finish setting the dye in the last two batches. And clean up."

"It'll take me ten minutes to get my stuff together anyway. Then I'll meet you in your bathroom."

The enthusiastic teen was through the swinging door before Rielle could reply. How did she tell Sierra she wasn't interested in a makeover?

She couldn't. She'd always considered herself lucky that Rory hadn't forced her love of all that girly stuff on her. Although...Rielle could admit her new hairstyle had made a world of difference in how she viewed herself.

What did she have to lose except for a few hours? Nothing.

But she poured herself a big whiskey c.o.ke anyway before she wandered down the hallway.

Sierra had already set up in Rielle's bathroom. She pointed to the toilet. "Sit. Get comfy."

Rielle sat, drink in hand.

"Where is your makeup?"

"Drawer on the right. There's not much."

Sierra cleaned Rielle's face with a warm cloth, which was really weird. She asked questions about Rielle's skincare regimen, which consisted of washing her face with Ivory soap and moisturizing with Lubriderm lotion.

Surprisingly, that didn't earn a heavy sigh like it would've from Rory.

Rielle kept her eyes closed and took the occasional sip of her drink as Sierra discussed skin tones, the best way to mask her under eye circles and cultivate the natural look. Which prompted her to ask, "So not wearing any makeup isn't an acceptable natural look?"

"It's fine when you're working outside, as long as you're wearing skin protection with at least thirty SPF." She smeared something beneath Rielle's eye. "But you don't want to look like you just whipped off your gloves and sun hat when you go to town, do you?"

That's exactly what Rielle had always done. So she deflected. If Sierra was anything like Rory, she'd love to talk about boys. "I haven't heard you mention any cute guys at your school."

"I try to avoid talking about guys around my dad. He gets a little uptight and lecture-y about it."

"Your dad isn't here. Since you're avoiding my question, is there some guy you're interested in?"

Sierra sighed. "There's one guy. He's nice and funny and bossy and kind of quirky. I see him at the library or around school and we talk and stuff. But he's made it clear that he just wants to be pals."

"Huh." Rielle stayed still as Sierra's fingers dotted something cool on her cheeks, nose and forehead and gently smoothed it in. "Doesn't the new girl catch guys' interest?"

"Two guys offered to break up with their girlfriends to go out with me. But I don't need any more c.r.a.p from the girls at school."

Rielle opened her eyes and looked at Sierra. "Are you having a hard time and can't talk to your dad about it?"

"No. Close your eyes. Well, I mean yes. Girls at school aren't mean, they just ignore me. Marin is fun and we have a great time together, but now she's got a boyfriend. Two other girls ask me to do stuff, but they both drive and I feel like a...loser because they'd have to pick me up and bring me home. I'm thinking about asking my dad if I could be home schooled."

Her eyes flew open. "G.o.d, no, Sierra, don't do that. Home schooling sucks. Trust me. My parents didn't give me a choice. And if you think it's tough not being able to drive, imagine how much harder it'd be if you didn't see anyone but your dad, me and your grandparents."

"Keep your eyes closed," Sierra reminded her. "You didn't consider home schooling Rory?"

"Not for a single second. I won't say her school years were easy, especially not after she started middle school and hit the six-foot-one mark, making her taller than all the girls in her cla.s.s and most of the boys. But she had a couple of good friends, she earned the highest GPA in her graduating cla.s.s and she's socially well-adjusted. Without making generalizations-because I know what that's like-home schooled kids are awkward in normal society."

"You're not awkward and you were home schooled," she pointed out.

"Really? You sure? I can't even put on my own d.a.m.n makeup."

Sierra snickered.

"I'm also forty. An old forty." Sierra dragged something wet close to her lash line and Rielle flinched.

"Hold still. Geez. I'm not gonna jab you in the eye unless you do that again."

"Sorry." Sierra lightly brushed Rielle's entire eye area and she tried not to wiggle because it tickled.

"You said that you knew what it was like when people made generalizations. What did you mean?"

"I had a baby at sixteen. So people around here a.s.sumed I was a s.l.u.t. Or that I was on food stamps and all sorts of government a.s.sistance because I was the daughter of pot-growing hippies."

"Wow. Really? People said s.h.i.t like that to you?"

"All the time."

Sierra touched the apples of Rielle's cheeks with a soft brush. "People are a.s.sholes. You're not any of those things. They should follow you around one day and see how hard you work."

Again, she was reminded Sierra was a lot more observant than she'd given her credit for.

"Okay. Open your eyes."

She did.

Sierra grinned at her. "Looking good, Ree. Time for mascara. I can't stand when someone else puts it on me, so I'll let you put it on yourself, just as long as you can do it without the mirror so you don't ruin the big reveal."

The big reveal. Funny girl. "Fine. I'll do it."

Sierra slapped a blue and neon pink tube in Rielle's hand. "Start at the lash line. Sweep up twice. Then only touch the very tips of your lashes. That really makes them pop."

"I'll be lucky if I don't pop out my eyeball doing this without a mirror."

"Ha ha. You're funny and not nearly as cranky as you like to think you are."

That caught Rielle's attention. "Cranky?"

"You. Thinking you're old. Acting like such a hard-a.s.s. Like you've got no time for anyone. But I see you with my dad. You smile a lot. So does he."

This intuitive kid reminded her so much of Rory at age sixteen she ached, missed her insightful, stubborn and sweet daughter. She finished with the mascara. "Now can I look?"

"Nope. Last thing. Lipstick."

Rielle groaned.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. It's not like I'm painting your lips with goopy stuff. Now pucker up. Hold it." She outlined Rielle's mouth with a thick pink-colored pencil. "You have the most perfect lips. My mom pays a fortune to have full lips like these." She sighed. "You need to play them up. Even if you just put on hydrating shimmer gloss."

"Uh, Sierra, no offense, but I don't even know what the h.e.l.l that is."

"Ree. Stop talking, you're smudging it. I'm almost done."

Guess finishing her drink was out of the question.

"There." Sierra peered at her like she was a science experiment. "Okay, I lied. There is one other thing I want to do."

"What?"