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

“If you don’t take too long.”

She raced back to the laundry room and disappeared inside, leaving Rush and Tracy alone. “Thanks again,” he said, wishing he could say more. He’d already begun to dream of a future with her, raising a family here in Branding Iron and growing old together, enjoying their grandchildren.... But it was far too soon to bring that up. The dream would have to wait.

“Good luck with Christmas,” she said. “You’re going to need it.”

“Thanks,” he said. “The next couple of weeks are going to be crazy at the ranch, but I’ll call you.”

“It’s fine. I understand. I’ll be here.”

“Come on, Clara,” he called. “I promised to help Travis and Conner this afternoon. We need to go.”

“Okay.” She closed the laundry room door and came skipping back down the hall. “You should see those kittens, Daddy! They’re already getting out of the box and eating food. They’re so cute, and Snowflake is the cutest one of all!”

Rush helped her with her coat. “Let’s go. Burgers and shakes are waiting.” He ushered her out the door, pausing to give Tracy a backward wave.

* * *

Tracy stood at the window and watched them drive away. Had she made a mistake by not telling Rush what she’d learned online? Since there was nothing he could do, would it be fair or cruel to give him a glimmer of empty hope?

For a moment, when he’d talked about losing Clara, she’d been tempted to tell him. But then Clara had awakened and come into the kitchen, settling the question for now. Sooner or later, especially if they parted company, he would need to know. But she would wait for a better time.

Making cookies with Clara had been a riot, but the kitchen was a disaster site of unwashed bowls, cups, and cookie cutters, spilled flour, broken eggs, and sticky spots on the floor. Maggie had mentioned that she might get off work early. Tracy knew that Branding Iron’s mayor wouldn’t mind a messy kitchen. Still, she couldn’t help wanting to make a good impression.

Summoning her energy, she flung herself into loading the dishwasher, wiping up spills, taking out the trash, and mopping the floor. From there, she moved on to tidying the house, fluffing a pillow, dusting a table, putting a magazine away. By then her phone was ringing. Maggie was on her way.

Minutes later, when Tracy answered the door, Maggie breezed in with her arms full of gowns. “I hope one of these will do,” she said, laying them over the back of a chair. “I’m a big girl, at least two sizes larger than you are, so it might take some stitching. Do you sew?”

“Nothing fancy. I don’t have a machine, but I can thread a needle and baste a hem.”

“That’ll do.” Maggie said. “Heavens, it smells wonderful in here.”

“Clara and I were baking cookies this morning, before Rush picked her up. I put a box aside for you to take home. Would you like to have some, with a cup of coffee?”

“Let’s try the gowns first.” Maggie slipped off her jacket and tossed it on the coatrack. “I was just going to leave them, but I’ve got some time and, if you don’t mind, I thought it would be fun to see how you look in them. I brought all three of mine, just in case.”

“These are beautiful.” Tracy lifted each gown from the stack. “Did you make them yourself?”

Maggie laughed. “Hardly. There are women in town who make their Christmas money sewing Western ball gowns. But you have to get your order in a couple of months early. You might want to think about that for next year.”

Tracy sighed. “Maggie, I have no idea whether I’ll even be here next year.”

Maggie looked startled. “But you and Rush—everyone who knows you both is hoping you’ll get together. The two of you make such a great couple. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing right now. But there are . . . complications.”

“Anything you want to talk about? You can count on me to keep things to myself.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a lot to work out,” Tracy said. “For now, you can help me try on these lovely gowns.” She scooped them up in her arms and headed back toward her bedroom.

Following her, Maggie passed Murphy, dozing in his bed. The old dog raised his head and thumped his tail as she bent to pet him. “Hello, old guy. You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” She rose. “I didn’t know you had a dog, Maggie.”

“He was Steve’s dog. Steve had him longer than he had me.”

“He’s precious,” Maggie said. “I like dogs.”

“I’ve got cats, too, if you’re interested.”

“I know about the kittens. But as I mentioned before, I’m not a cat person. If you have any that aren’t spoken for, I’ll spread the word.”