Page 16 of Her Cowboy Santa
“Me too. And I know you’ll find your peace, Grady,” I tell him. Christmas is a time for miracles, and no one deserves an angel more than Grady.
He nods. “I think I already did.”
Chapter 9
Callie
I follow Mary into the warm house with its cozy, crackling fireplaces and bright twinkling lights everywhere. “I think Danny is tuckered out. I’m going to put him to bed.”
In my room, I settle Danny with a bottle, singing soft lullabies. As I do, I remember on the plane when Nate kept singing him the same songs again and again. He’d be an amazing dad, nothing like Corey. He’s the type of man who would love and accept his child no matter what.
When Danny finally drifts to sleep, I place him in the crib and turn on the baby monitor. I carry the other one with me into the formal dining room, my fuzzy socks gliding easily against the worn hardwood floors.
There’s a woman I don’t recognize at the table. She’s dressed in a retro pinup dress with her long, black hair scooped into a messy ponytail. She’s frowning down at the craft supplies as though she’s the big green monster on the hill, already dreading the noise of Christmas.
Mary gestured toward the other woman. “Callie, come meet Ginger. She’s planning the party, the one in the community center.”
The oven dings in the kitchen, and Mary breaks into a smile. “Those are my Christmas cupcakes. I’ll be right back. I’ll grab more glitter and glue.”
I watch Mary hurry from the room and take a seat at the table in time to hear Ginger mutter under her breath, “Oh, goodie. More glitter.”
“Are you OK? You don’t seem all that thrilled to be here.” I survey the pile of crafting supplies that are spread out. It appears Mary is creating resin molds and coloring them. One she’s made to look like a Christmas tree is inside and another one appears to be the start of a reindeer.
Ginger sighs. “I’m just missing my dad.”
I grab a mold and fill it with resin, purposely not looking at her. “Are you sure that’s all? Because it seems like something is troubling you.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”
I swallow hard, acknowledging the real reason I’m here at the Naughty List Ranch. “Sometimes, the holidays make me think of how alone I am.”
“Really, I’m fine.” She answers so quietly that it still makes me think my secret is her secret too. That the loneliness we can normally ignore during the rest of the year isn’t so easy to ignore during what should be the happiest season of all.
“I lost my parents a few years ago, and some days, all the cheerfulness gets to me. It feels like there’s no space for grief, and I just need a good cry.” The pressure to be happy during Christmas is hard. You want to smile at all the right moments and be there for loved ones, but you also ache. You ache for dreams unmet and loved ones gone and happier seasons when you were still innocent to everything but the wonder of the day.
“It’s just my dad and me, but we’re good,” Ginger insists in a small voice.
I lean over and squeeze her hand even though she’s a stranger. But she doesn’t feel like a stranger. She feels like a long-lost friend I didn’t even know I was looking for. “Well, I feel it even more now that I’m a mom myself. I heard you had a run in with Dallas at the post office.”
Ginger blushes and frowns, muttering something I don’t quite catch.
I can’t help teasing her. “Are you hoping to find out if his stocking is hung?”
Her blush deepens, but she doesn’t say anything else.
Angel, the barista from the Mistletoe Mug, bustles into the room with a drink carrier. She sets one down in front of me and beams. “Gingerbread latte for you.” Then she passes a drink to Ginger and sets one down for Mary before taking a sip of her own.
She produces a box and sets it in the center of the table. It’s filled with Mistletoe Mug’s peppermint bark. It’s been sold out every time I’ve been there so I’m extra excited to try it now. “What are we talking about?”
“Stockings,” Ginger and I say at the same time before I burst into giggles.
Mary hurries into the room with more glitter, glue, and resin than we could possibly use in fifteen Christmas seasons.
Angel narrows her gaze at us, but her tone is playful, “Keep your secrets for now. I have ways of finding things out.”
Mary shakes her head, clearly delighted just to have girls around her. I bet she hasn’t gotten much girl talk over the years, so I do my best to keep the conversation going as we work late into the night.
The next morning, I gather Danny and head to the Mistletoe Mug. I want to catch up with Angel before her shop opens. A snowstorm is forecasted to be on the way, but you wouldn’t know it by the bright skies and beautiful snow on the ground. It’s early so the roads are still freshly powdered, not yet turned into the slushy gray mix that happens as the day wears on.
