My Kind of Christmas

by Janet Dailey

  “If I do, I’ll ask Conner.”

  Will you wait for me?

  Travis knew better than to ask that question. Maggie was a free woman, and it was too soon for promises. If he wanted the right to love her, he would have to earn it.

  He said a subdued good night, left her, and drove out of town, toward the ranch. Howling wind battered the Jeep. The sound only deepened his melancholy. Maggie was right—he wouldn’t be fit company until he got his life together. But the thought of not seeing her, not being able to hear her voice or hold her in his arms, was like slow starvation.

  The biggest sign of all was to go up where the ranch road turned off the highway. In addition to the text, an arrow pointed the way to Christmas Tree Ranch. Travis had saved it for last, to put up on the way home.

  Finding the spot he’d chosen earlier, he pulled off the road and got the sign out of the back. The big square of Masonite caught the wind like a sail. It was all Travis could do to hang on to it and wrestle it into place. Bracing it with his body and one hand, he used the hammer he’d brought to pound the long stake into the earth. The first few blows glanced off, but then he felt the point of the stake catch and sink into the earth. A dozen more blows and the sign was securely in place.

  Sweating under his coat, Travis leaned back against the Jeep to catch his breath. Overhead, the sky churned with black clouds that hid the stars and the moon. As he looked up, he felt something cold and wet brush his face. One flake, then more, then millions swirled down around him in a cascade of white.

  Hallelujah, it was snowing!

  Chapter 12

  Maggie always looked forward to the day after Thanksgiving. For her it was a magical time, when Branding Iron awakened to the Christmas season.

  Years ago, when her father was mayor, the townspeople had passed a resolution urging that no Christmas decorations be put up on the streets, in shops, or even in houses and yards, until after Thanksgiving had been properly celebrated. The tradition was cherished and honored—except by Shop Mart, which was just outside the city limits and followed its own rules.

  This morning, as she drove up Main Street, Maggie could see the town workers putting up the tree in the square, and hanging strings of tinsel and colored lights between the lampposts. The Nativity scene was going up in front of the church, and the PA system in the park was playing Christmas songs.

  But the crowning touch of the morning was the first real snowfall of the season. So far, the snow was only two or three inches deep. But that was enough to cloak the town and surrounding countryside in glistening white. And more snow was in the forecast—a line of storms, sweeping out of the North-west in the days ahead, more than enough to give Branding Iron the hope of a white Christmas.

  Maggie was passing the park when she saw the sign advertising Christmas Tree Ranch. Her pulse skipped. Travis and his friends had done what they’d set out to. They were open for business.

  She’d been headed to her office to catch up on work while the building was closed to the public. But she had plenty of time, and she was curious. The hour was too early for many customers, but it wouldn’t hurt to cruise past the place and see how they’d set up. She wouldn’t stop—that would be awkward after last night’s encounter with Travis. If they noticed her, she would just give them a friendly wave and keep driving.

  She turned around at the far end of Main Street and headed south, out of town. There was another sign at the city limits and one more at the entrance to the Shop Mart parking lot. Stopping nearby, she brushed the windblown snow from the red-stenciled text. She could only hope people would notice the signs and be curious enough to drive out and investigate. If their Christmas tree venture failed, she would be heartsick for Travis and his friends.

  Maggie drove on south. She was approaching Hank’s Hardware, on the far side of the highway, when she saw the big sign on the Christmas tree lot. She slowed down for a closer look. Her heart sank as she read the hastily painted letters.

  TODAY ONLY! ALL TREES HALF PRICE!

  Groaning out loud, she pulled off the highway and read the sign again. Everyone driving south to Christmas Tree Ranch would have to pass that sign. Three cars had already stopped outside Hank’s lot to look at his trees, and Hank was waiting to welcome them at the gate. Nobody who bought a tree here would bother to drive on and look for another one.

  Branding Iron was not a wealthy community. Many families struggled to provide a nice Christmas for their children. A tree at half price, even if it wasn’t the freshest, would mean a few more gifts on Christmas morning. How many folks would pass that up?

  Maggie knew enough about the tree business to estimate Hank’s profit margin. He would be losing money on every tree he sold at half price. But that wouldn’t matter to him, as long as he was taking business away from his son.

  A Christmas tree war had begun. And Maggie was caught in the crossfire.

  What now? It was too late to go in and try to reason with Hank. And calling in Francine, whose first loyalty was to her old friend, would only make matters worse.

  She could drive out to the ranch and tell the partners what Hank was up to. But that would only fan the flames of the conflict—especially if Travis were to come flying into town to confront his father. Sooner or later, he would find out what Hank had done. But as a friend to both men, she couldn’t be the one to carry the news.

  With a weary sigh, she backed her car to turn around. Just then a sleek white Cadillac cruised past her and headed on down the highway. Maggie didn’t recognize the expensive car, but she could see children in the back. She cheered silently as, almost out of sight, the car slowed and made a left turn toward the ranch. The family must have seen the ad in the Cottonwood Springs paper. With luck, the notice would bring more customers seeking fresh trees and a good time.

  For now, all she could do was go back to work and put her mind on other things—like the pile of contracts she had to read, the checks she had to sign, and the Christmas Santa she had yet to find.

  Taking care on the snow-slicked shoulder of the road, she swung her car around and headed back to town.

  * * *

  By noon, just four families had shown up at Christmas Tree Ranch. The first three had been from Cottonwood Springs. Two of them had bought trees off the lot while their children toasted marshmallows and made s’mores. Conner had driven the third family over the road in the ATV to cut their own tree and haul it back. All of them had enjoyed a wonderful time, and Travis had invited them back for sleigh rides when the snow got deeper. He could only hope they’d pass the word to their neighbors and bring him more customers. If business didn’t pick up in the days ahead, this venture would barely make expenses.

  After the third family left, Travis had given the two teenage helpers their pay and sent them home for the day. There hadn’t been enough work to keep them busy.

  The fourth customer was Travis’s neighbor, Jubal McFarland, who’d come over with his ten-year-old daughter, Gracie, leaving his wife and their toddler at home. They’d had a good time choosing a tree, making s’mores, and drinking hot chocolate. Gracie threw sticks for Bucket while her father conversed with Travis.

  “You’ve got a nice setup here, Travis,” he said. “I hope it works out well for you and your partners.”

  “Believe me, so do I,” Travis said. “But I’m getting worried. We were hoping to start out with a bang, but except for you, the only customers have come from Cottonwood Springs. We can’t figure why we haven’t seen more locals.”

  “You don’t know?” Jubal looked startled for an instant, then shook his head. “My wife went to town earlier, and she told me when she came home. I’m sorry. I assumed you’d know by now.”

  “Know what?” Travis felt a sick premonition.

  “It’s Hank. He’s selling all his trees for half price today. Ellie said the place was mobbed when she drove by.”

  “What the hell?” Conner rose from where he’d been tending the fire. “Did I just hear what I thi
nk I heard?”

  Rush came down off the porch, where he’d been tallying the payments—not that there was much to tally. “That’s unbelievable. The old boy will lose money on every tree he sells.”

  “I’m guessing he doesn’t care as long as he hurts us—or mainly, hurts me,” Travis said. “Besides, he’s probably got enough cash socked away to take the hit.”

  “At least it’s only for today,” Rush said. “We’ll be back on even footing tomorrow.”

  “Except that a lot of people will have bought their trees by now,” Travis said. “They won’t be coming out to buy again. And for half price, they won’t care if the needles are falling off the tree by Christmas.”

  Conner’s string of curses ended when he realized Gracie was listening. He murmured a quick apology, then turned back to Travis. “I don’t care if he is your father. This is a dirty trick. We need to get him back—and get him good.”

  “With another dirty trick?” Travis shook his head. “Why bother? All it’ll do is waste our time and add more poison to the well. We’re better off figuring out how to get more people out here and sell more trees.”

  “So let’s put our heads together,” Rush said. “What could we do that we haven’t done?”

  “I have an idea!” Gracie’s childish voice spoke up. “How about flyers? You could leave them on all the doors.”

  “Now that’s a thought,” Travis said. “Not everyone has seen our signs. And not everyone will have bought Hank’s trees. But how would we make them?”

  “I can make you one,” Gracie said. “It’ll have trees and the fire and the s’mores on it, and it’ll say everything that’s on your sign.”

  “She really is a good artist.” Jubal glowed with fatherly pride. “The school and office supply shop on Main Street has a copy machine you could use. It might cost a little—”

  “If it gets people out, it’ll be worth it,” Travis said. “Go for it, Gracie. I know you’ll come up with a great flyer. We can make copies as soon as you’re finished, and pay our teenagers and their friends to deliver them. We’ll pay you, too, Gracie.”

  Gracie shook her head and laughed. “No, you don’t have to pay me! It’ll be fun!”

  “Then how about a free sleigh ride and all the s’mores your family can eat?” Conner asked.

  “Yes!” Gracie grabbed her father’s hand and tugged him toward their truck, which already had their tree loaded in the back. “Come on, Daddy! Time for me to get to work!”

  Conner laughed as the truck drove away. “You know, I wouldn’t mind having a kid if I knew she’d turn out like that one!”

  Rush turned away as if to hide his expression. Travis remembered his mentioning a daughter, but he never talked about her. Was he hiding a secret sorrow? Travis respected his new friend’s privacy too much to ask. Still, he wondered.

  But there was no time to think about that now. Another out-of-town customer was coming up the road—and it was starting to snow again.

  * * *

  By the next morning the snow was deep enough to shovel. As the day bloomed under a clear, azure sky, children romped in the snow, made snow angels, and staged snowball wars. Cars crawled along white-packed streets or waited for Branding Iron’s only snowplow to come and clear the way.

  When Maggie came outside to shovel, she found a flyer under her door, with fresh sneaker tracks leading up and down the front walk. Picking up the flyer, she smiled. Travis and his partners were doing their best to hold their own against Hank.

  The older man, she knew, had sold a lot of trees yesterday. Driving home from her office late in the day, she’d spotted more than a few trees on porches or in windows. But today, unless he extended the sale, he would be back to his regular prices. And Christmas Tree Ranch had fresh trees for about the same average cost, along with treats and fun for the families who came. The flyers, once people read them, should give the ranch more business.

  After Maggie had shoveled the walk and driveway, she got her purse, backed out of the garage, and drove down Main Street. Saturday shoppers, enjoying the sunshine after the storm, strolled up and down the sidewalks looking at the Christmas displays in the shop windows. The snow was barely six inches deep on the lawns, less on the walks and roads. More than twice that depth would be needed for the sleigh. But if the ranch could offer sleigh rides, even the families who’d already bought trees from Hank would want to visit.

  Maggie glanced up at the clear blue sky and offered a silent prayer for more storms.

  The Shop Mart parking lot was full. Maggie knew the aisles would be crowded and the checkout lines tediously long, but she needed groceries, and there was no place else to get them.

  At the bakery counter, she stopped to chat with Katy. The young woman was glowing. Having Down syndrome was clearly no barrier to being head over heels in love.

  “Look what Daniel gave me!” She slipped off one vinyl glove and held out her hand to show Maggie a dainty silver ring adorned with a little blue stone. “He says it’s a friendship ring. It means we really like each other.”

  “It’s lovely, Katy.” Maggie ordered two loaves of sliced whole-grain bread. She could see Daniel at one of the check-out stands, chatting with an old woman as he wheeled her loaded cart toward the exit. He seemed like a nice boy. For Katy’s sake, Maggie hoped so.

  The checkout lines were long and slow. Maggie took her place in the nearest one and willed herself to be patient. She was tapping her foot and humming along with the Christmas music on the speaker when she heard a pleasant voice.

  “Maggie, goodness, that’s you! I’ve been behind you for five minutes, but my mind’s been on other things or I would’ve said hello sooner.”

  Even before she turned around, Maggie recognized the speaker. Connie Parker, Katy’s mother, was behind her in the line with a loaded cart. A thin, graying woman, she was married to Silas Parker, who owned the garage. God had never made two better people than Connie and Silas—at least that’s what Maggie thought.

  “Hi, Connie.” She gave the woman a smile. “I was just talking to your daughter. You must be proud of her, getting a job, meeting new people, and learning new skills.”

  “Oh, I am. But—” Connie dabbed at a tear. “This is such a hard adjustment. I’ve always assumed Silas and I would have Katy with us all our lives. Now, suddenly, she’s got a job, she’s got her own money, making her own decisions—she’s even got a boyfriend!”

  The conversation had become personal, but between the crowds and the music, nobody appeared to be paying attention. And Maggie could tell that Connie needed to talk. “I know you’re worried. Any mother would be,” she said. “But I’ve met him and talked with him. He seems like a nice boy, hardworking, responsible, and well-mannered. And he really seems to care for Katy. Maybe you should get to know him and his family. His father teaches at the elementary school.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’re fine,” Connie said. “It’s just taking that step, welcoming him into the family. She’s so innocent, Maggie. I can’t stand the thought that she could be hurt.”

  “I understand,” Maggie agreed. “This is a whole new world for her. I can imagine what it must be like for her, being different all your life and then finding someone who’s the same as you are.”

  “Oh, I know.” Connie sighed. “Katy has the right to her own happiness. She has the right to be in love. But what if they want to get married, Maggie? What if she gets pregnant?”

  “Everything I know about Katy tells me she’d be a loving mother,” Maggie said. “But I understand you have reason to worry. I’m out of my depth here. You need to talk to an expert on Down syndrome, most likely a doctor. If you want, I can check with the state social service registry. They should have connections to somebody who can counsel you and answer your questions. Would you like me to do that?”

  “Oh, could you?” Connie’s face shone with relief. “I want what’s best for Katy, but I haven’t known where to turn. I’ve been feeling so helpless—” She b
linked back tears. “Thank you, Maggie. I’ve been praying for guidance, and I think perhaps meeting you today was my answer.”

  “I’ll find somebody and get back to you. They might not be available till next week, but at least you’ll have a name and a number. If you want, I’ll even call them for you and ask for an appointment.”

  “That would be great. I’m not sure I’d know what to say.”

  “No problem.” Maggie squeezed Connie’s arm and moved ahead to the checkout stand. The most satisfying part of her job was helping people get what they needed. Finding an expert on Down syndrome for Connie shouldn’t be too difficult. If only it were that easy to reconcile Travis and his father, and to find her beloved town its Santa before the parade.

  Francine hadn’t called since Thanksgiving. Maybe because she was loyal to Hank, who believed Maggie had gone over to the enemy. What a mess.

  Even Maggie’s idea of having Hank play Santa from the back of a convertible was out the window now. The man was barely speaking to her. She’d always considered him one of the nicest people she knew, but this Christmas tree war had brought out his dark side. In his present frame of mind, he wouldn’t throw her a life preserver if she was drowning.

  She paid for her groceries and wheeled her cart out into the parking lot. Lost in thought, she didn’t see Conner until she’d almost run into him.

  “Whoa there, Maggie!” He laughed as he dodged the cart. “I’d say it was a pleasure running into you, but it appears more like the other way around.” He studied her with a thoughtful frown. “You look a little down at the mouth. Is everything okay?”

  She shrugged, checking the urge to cry on his shoulder. “Everything’s fine,” she lied. “Just the usual worries. How’s it going at the ranch?”

  “Not too bad. It’s early in the day, but we’re hoping the flyers will bring us more local business. We had a few customers yesterday, but not many, thanks to Hank’s half-price sale.”

  “Is he still selling half-price trees today?” Maggie asked.