It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch 2)

By Thanksgiving, with all except the last-minute preparations done, the partners were worn out and ready for a break. This year Maggie had cooked a turkey dinner at her house and invited all three of them, along with Hank and his girlfriend, Francine, who ran the Branding Iron Bed and Breakfast.

Earlier, Maggie had mentioned to Rush that she’d planned to invite Tracy, as well. Now, as Rush walked through Maggie’s front door and basked in the aromas of turkey, hot rolls, and pumpkin pies, his pulse skipped with anticipation. He hadn’t seen Tracy or talked with her since the day he’d stopped by her house. He’d done his best to convince himself that she wasn’t interested. But as he glanced around the living room, a spark of hope ignited, flared . . . and died.

She wasn’t here.

Standing in the entrance to the kitchen, Maggie caught Rush’s eye and gave a subtle shake of her head. Not only was Tracy not here; evidently, she wasn’t coming.

There had been seven places set at the table. Before the six friends took their seats, Maggie discreetly removed the seventh place setting. So, Tracy’s decision must have been made at the last minute. Rush imagined her home alone with her old dog and her little family of cats. That she would turn down a delicious Thanksgiving dinner rather than face him across th

e table was the last straw. It was time to forget about the woman—permanently.

After Hank’s brief grace, as the food was being passed, Rush’s gaze moved around the table. Hank and Francine, both well into middle age, had nearly married when they were younger. But they’d gone their separate ways, only to rediscover each other a few years ago. Now they’d settled into a warm, supportive relationship. Travis and Maggie had been dating almost a year and still couldn’t seem to take their eyes off each other. And Conner seemed perfectly happy with his rotating girlfriends and his carefree bachelor existence.

Only Rush had a gaping hole in his life.

Enough with the hand-wringing! Rush scolded himself. He had good friends, meaningful work, and a promising future. It might not be the whole package, but it was more than many people had. For now, he would have to be content and call it good.

* * *

The call came five days later.

Rush was pulling his boots off his frigid feet after a grueling eighteen-hour day when his cell phone rang. By the time his chilled hands had worked the phone out of his vest pocket, the caller had rung off. Let them wait, Rush thought. Right now, all he wanted was a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

But maybe the call was important.

With a sigh, he pulled the phone out of his vest pocket and checked the caller ID.

His pulse lurched when he saw the name.

Cecil Crawford was the caretaker in the house where Rush’s ex-wife, Sonya, lived. His wife, Annie, served as housekeeper, cook, and part-time nanny. Rush knew the middle-aged couple well. They’d been with the family for years. Rush had left an emergency number with them. But he hadn’t expected it to be used—not unless something was terribly wrong.

Rush’s hand shook as he returned the call. Cecil picked up at once. “Rush.” He sounded perfectly calm. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“What is it, Cecil?” Rush was too worried for pleasantries. “Is Claire all right?”

“She’s fine. Annie just put her to bed. Incidentally, we’re not calling her Claire anymore. Andre said the name reminded him of his first wife. We’re calling her Clara—it’s been legally changed.”

“Wasn’t that confusing for her?” Rush asked.

“Only for the first week or two. Now she’s fine with it. But she still misses you.”

“There’s not much I can do about that, is there?”

“Actually, yes,” Cecil said. “We’ve got a bit of an emergency and were hoping you might be able to help.”

“I don’t see how—”

“Hear me out,” Cecil said. “Sonya and Andre left after Thanksgiving on a five-week holiday cruise to the South Pacific. They left Clara here with us.”

“They went on a cruise and left her over Christmas?” Rush swore silently. Sonya had never been the world’s most attentive mother. But to go away and leave a child to spend Christmas with the hired help—what had his ex-wife been thinking?

“Clara seems all right with it,” Cecil said. “She’s used to being with us, and they left her some presents to open. We were planning to make sure she had a tree and cookies to put out for Santa. But something’s come up, and we don’t know what to do.” He paused.

“How can I help?” Even as he asked the question, Rush felt stirrings of doubt. Any involvement with Claire—now, Clara, he reminded himself—could be a mistake. She’d barely had time to adjust to his absence and the new father who’d taken his place. Seeing her, then having to separate again, would hurt her in a way no child should be hurt.

“Here’s the thing,” Cecil said. “We just got word that Annie’s father, who’s in his eighties, has had a severe stroke. He’s in the hospital, in Oklahoma City. Annie’s mother is beside herself. We need to get there fast and stay, maybe for a long time. But what do we do with Clara?”

“Can’t you reach her parents?”