It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(35)

“If it snows again,” Rush said, starting the engine.

“What if it doesn’t snow?” Clara asked.

“Whatever the weather does, all we can do is make the best of it.”

“But what if there isn’t any snow for the parade?” Clara asked. “How will the horses pull the sleigh?”

“We can keep the sleigh on its flatbed trailer,” Rush answered patiently. “The horses can pull it that way.”

“But it wouldn’t be real,” Clara said. “Not without snow.”

“It’s too soon to worry about that,” Tracy said. “The parade is two weeks away. There’s plenty of time for another storm to move in.”

“It’s got to snow. It’s just got to.” Clara was quiet for a moment. “What’s brunch?”

“What’s what?” Rush was caught off guard by the sudden change of subject.

“You said we were going to brunch. What’s that?”

Laughing, Tracy came to his rescue. “It’s like breakfast and lunch put together—a late breakfast or an early lunch.”

“Oh. Br . . . unch.” Clara giggled. “Will I like it?”

“I know you like bacon and eggs and pancakes,” Rush said. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it. And you’ll get to meet some nice people, too.”

“Can I tell them about the kittens, Tracy? You said they’d soon need new homes.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Tracy said. “Sure, go ahead and tell people if you want to.”

“Okay. But I won’t tell them about Snowflake. He’s the one I love.”

Rush glanced at Tracy, a dismayed look on his face. His precious little girl was setting herself up to have her heart broken.

The Branding Iron Bed and Breakfast was located in an old remodeled house just off Main Street. Most of the parking places were taken, but Rush managed to catch someone leaving and steer the Hummer into the empty spot. As he helped Tracy and Clara out of the vehicle, and the three of them went up the sidewalk together, Tracy battled an attack of self-consciousness. This was a small town. There was bound to be some gossip when people saw her with Rush. But if that bothered her, she mustn’t let it show. She would smile, enjoy her meal, and leave as soon as possible.

Mouthwatering aromas surrounded them as they opened the door. Inside, the spacious dining room was decked out for Christmas with a glittering tree, small wreaths on the tables, and glowing white lights strung from the ceiling. Traditional Christmas music played in the background, turned low enough to allow for conversation. Buffet tables along the far wall were laden with warming pans and trays of fruit, breads, and pastries that looked and smelled heavenly.

Pretty Jess Marsden, the sheriff’s wife, who ran the place with her mother, took Rush’s credit card and showed them to an open table. “Nice to see you, Tracy and Rush. And who is this young lady?”

“I’m Clara. Do you want a kitten? I know who has some. They’re really cute.” Clara had her pitch ready.

Jess smiled. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “But if I find anybody who’d like one, I’ll send them over.”

“Wait! Somebody’s got kittens?” Jess’s mother, Francine, bustling past with a pitcher of juice, stopped in her tracks. “I’ve been pining for a cat since my old Sergeant Pepper crossed the rainbow bridge last summer. He was a ginger tabby. I’d love another one like him.”

“You may be in luck.” Tracy spoke up. “The kittens are at my house. One of them, the feistiest one, is a little ginger. They’re still nursing, but they should be ready to take home by Christmas.”

Francine’s smile broadened. “A little ginger, hmm? And feisty. I like that. Boy or girl?”

“He’s a boy,” Clara said. “And my daddy will give him free shots.”

“Well, that wraps it up!” Francine said. “Save that precious boy for me, and let me know when I can come and get him.” She hurried away, humming a Christmas tune.

“See? That was easy,” Clara said.

“And Ginger will have a great home,” Rush said. “Francine loved that old cat of hers. She’ll love her new cat, too. Come on, let’s get some food before you give away any more kittens.”

*

At the buffet table, they loaded their plates with airy scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and pancakes topped with strawberry sauce and whipped cream. When they returned to their table, cups of steaming coffee and a glass of orange juice for Clara were waiting for them.

“Good?” Rush asked Tracy.

“Mmm-hmmm.” She was eating, but she nodded. Her hazel eyes sparkled, reflecting the Christmas lights that decorated the ceiling overhead.

“I told you it would be good.” Rush liked watching her enjoy herself. And he liked being good to her. Tracy could use more of that, he mused. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone, and that somebody cared about her—even if she might not return his feelings.

“Hey, slow down, princess.” He patted Clara’s shoulder. He’d remembered her as a picky eater, but this morning she was devouring her breakfast as if every bite might be her last. Rush knew enough to savor times like this. All too soon they would be over, maybe for good.