Page 17 of Christmas Music
I needed to get into the bank, get them to give us one more extension on the mortgage payment, and then get home and finish the planning I was doing with my mom about how to cut costs even further. And in between those things, maybe I’d manage to get into the studio and work on some more music.
Work onhermusic. Because I only had the one tune, the one we’d done together. And though I didn’t want to use it, I also wasn’t planning to let that contest pass me by without a strong entry on my part. I didn’t know how winning a contract would match with trying to save the ranch, but that was a problem I was willing to deal with later.
I pushed through the door of the bank, leaving the Christmas parade behind me, and stopped to take several breaths. The place smelled like it always did—stuffy and artificially flavored, like I was breathing directly from an air freshener. I’d never liked the bank. I didn’t like the tellers with their unsmiling faces or the way they looked at you when you told them you needed to make a withdrawal.
I liked the place even less since I got home and started coming here to listen to them lecture me about the state of the loan on the ranch.
I took another breath, though, settled myself, and walked toward the head of the bank. I’d known Mr. Morton since I was a kid and had always found him slightly intimidating. That hadn’t changed. But I was hoping he had a heart buried under that tweed suit and tie. Hoping he had enough affection for me and my parents—and enough sympathy for my dad’s predicament—to give us one more chance.
“Connor,” he said, turning to me and giving me what looked like an almost genuine smile.
“Mr. Morton,” I replied, holding out my hand. “My mom told me we had some things to talk about.”
The smile melted off his face and he nodded, then gestured to his desk. “We do. Please have a seat.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, my hopes for Mr. Morton having a heart had melted just like his smile. He’d told me that if we continued to miss our payments, the bank was prepared to foreclose on the ranch, and that we had one month to make up for what we’d failed to pay so far.
One month.
I didn’t have any way to come up with that much money. It was only December, and our herds were growing fat, but no one would be looking to buy them until the spring. We’d already sold as many horses as we could and were left with only the breeding stock, which we couldn’t sell if we wanted to be able to maintain the line. We might be able to sell off some of the land, but how would we keep afloat if we didn’t have the full ranch alive and running? We already used every strip of land we had. I’d sold the only car that was worth anything and we were running with skeleton equipment and no crew at all.
We didn’t have many bills, aside from the medical bills for my dad. Just the mortgage. And I still wasn’t able to pay it.
I walked out of the bank feeling as if the entire world was falling down around me. I was going to lose the ranch. I’d come home to save my parents, help them save the ranch, and I was failing at it. I hadn’t been able to come up with any genius ideas to cut costs or come up with more money, and we’d already flown through my parents’ savings.
I was going to lose my childhood home, my parents were going to end up homeless, and the one thing that could have saved us—that contest, and that record contract—was slipping out of my grip with every passing day. I didn’t have time to work on music when I was so busy running the ranch, and without some serious help, I was going to fail at that, too.
I slumped through the outer doors and nearly ran into Olivia Johns. She was walking with her little sister, Chloe, and laughing at something the younger girl had said, her arms full of presents and her hair tied up with a fanciful ribbon.
She looked happy and carefree and completely beautiful.
She looked like a girl who didn’t have to worry about losing her parents’ ranch or seeing them on the streets, no place to go. No sick dad or suffering mom. No risks at all. Just a happy life, floating along like some sort of charmed angel.
And I didn’t know if I could stand it.
I reached out to steady her, my instinct to keep her from tripping over my big feet, but stopped myself before I could touch her. Our gazes clashed for one long, tense moment, and then...
Then I turned around and walked as quickly as I could in the other direction, my heart torn in about a million pieces and my mind numb with the knowledge that I wasn’t going to be able to do any of the things I needed to do to save my parents.
CHAPTER10
Olivia
Iwatched for at least fifteen full seconds—well, probably longer—as he basically sprinted for his truck, leaving me behind as quickly as he could.
What on earth was wrong with him? Three days ago he’d been all ‘use my studio, please and thank you,’ and two days ago we’d been in that studio working together like we’d been music partners for years. Hell, I’d gone up into that loft and hurled hay bales down with him! I’d been all in on going back the next day and doing the exact same thing, and then…
Then the near kiss, which I definitely hadn’t been thinking about every second since then. And his complete silence.
Now he was running from me like he suspected I’d turned into a vampire and was going to rip his throat out or something.
Well, I wasn’t having it. He’d made a promise to me, a promise for that studio, and I wasn’t going to let him just take it back. Not when so much depended on me getting that contract.
“Chloe, I’ve got to take care of something,” I muttered, shoving the presents I’d been carrying into her arms. “Can you make it home on your own?”
She could. We were only four blocks from our house. She’d get there easily without me. But she was still my little sister, and I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life if I didn’t at leastask.
