The Men of Medicine Ridge - Diana Palmer [82]
“You’re brooding,” Gil remarked. “Why?”
“I was wondering if I should have suggested anything about Internet business,” she said.
“Why not? It’s a good idea,” he said, surprising her. “John told me about the Web site designer. Tomorrow, I want you to get in touch with her and get the process started.”
“She’ll need you to tell her what you want on the site.”
“Okay.”
She glanced in the back seat where the girls were sharing a book and enthusing over the pop-up sections.
“I brought it home for them yesterday,” he commented, “and forgot to give it to them. They love books.”
“That’s the first step to getting them to love reading,” she said, smiling at the little heads bowed over the books. “Reading to them at night keeps it going.”
“Did your mother read to you?” he asked curiously.
“She probably did,” she mused, smiling sadly. “But Kantor and I were very young when she and our father…died. Mama Luke read to us, when we were older.”
“I suppose you liked science fiction,” he murmured.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“You love computers,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“I guess they do fit in with science fiction,” she had to admit. She eyed him curiously. “What sort of books did you like to read?”
“Pirate stories, cowboy stories. Stuff like that. Now, it’s genetics textbooks and management theory,” he added wryly. “I hardly ever have time to read just for fun.”
“Do your parents help you with the ranch?”
He seemed to turn to ice. “We don’t talk about our parents,” he said stiffly.
That sounded odd. But she was already in his bad books, so she didn’t pursue it. “It’s nice of you to take the girls to the movies.”
He slowed for a turn, his expression taut. “I don’t spend enough time with them,” he said. “You were right about that. It isn’t a lack of love. It’s a lack of delegation. You’d be amazed how hard it is to find good managers who want to live on a cattle ranch.”
“Maybe you don’t advertise in a wide enough range,” she suggested gently.
“What?”
She plunged ahead. “There are all sorts of trade magazines that carry ads with blind mailboxes,” she said. “You can have replies sent to the newspaper and nobody has to know who you are.”
“How do you know about the trade magazines?” he asked.
She grinned sheepishly. “I read them. Well, I ought to know something about cattle, since I work for a ranch, shouldn’t I?”
He shook his head. “You really are full of surprises, Kasie.”
“Kasie, what’s this big word?” Bess asked, thrusting the book at her. Kasie took it and sounded the word out phonetically, coaching the little girl in its pronunciation. She took the book back and began to teach the word to Jenny.
“You’re patient,” Gil remarked. “I notice that Miss Parsons doesn’t like taking time to teach them words.”
“Miss Parsons likes numbers.”
“Yes. She does.” He pulled into the theater parking lot, which was full of parents and children. He got everyone out and locked the door, grimacing as they walked past several minivans.
“They’re handy for little kids,” Kasie said wickedly. “Mothers love them, I’m told.”
“I love my kids, but I’m not driving a damned minivan,” he muttered.
She grinned at his expression. The little girls ran to get in line, and struck up a conversation with a child they knew, whose bored mother perked up when she saw Gil approaching.
“Hi, Gil!” she called cheerily. “We’re going to see the dinosaur movie! Is that why you’re here?”
“That’s the one,” he replied, pulling bills out of his wallet. He gave one to each of the little girls, and they bought their own tickets. Gil bought his and Kasie’s as they came to the window. “Hi, Amie,” he called to the little girl with Bess and Jenny, and he smiled. She smiled back. She was as dark as his children were fair, with black eyes and hair like her mother’s.
“We’re going to sit with Amie, Daddy!” Bess said excitedly, waving her ticket and Jenny’s.
“I guess that leaves me with you and…?” the other woman paused deliberately.
“This is Kasie,” Gil said, and took her unexpectedly by the arm, with a bland smile at Amie’s mom. “You’re welcome to join us, of