My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(60)

Not that he’d ever admit to a word of this out loud.

*

A week before the Christmas parade, a desperate Maggie made a call to Francine at the B and B. “We need to talk,” she said. “If you can come to my house, I’ll have fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls for us.”

“I’m still cleaning up after our Saturday buffet,” Francine said. “I can be there in half an hour. But don’t worry about the cinnamon rolls. If I don’t cut down on sweets, I’ll never fit into my costume for the Cowboy Christmas Ball.”

Maggie was tidying up the living room when her phone rang again. Her first thought was that Francine might be calling to say she couldn’t make it over. But the caller wasn’t Francine. It was Connie Parker.

“Is everything all right, Connie?” Maggie asked, bracing for more worries.

“Everything’s fine, so far,” Connie said. “I just wanted to thank you for putting me in touch with that doctor. I spent half an hour with her, and we had a very frank discussion about Katy and Daniel. Some of my questions were hard to ask, but I needed to know the answers. She told me that Down syndrome couples do get married and mostly do just fine. Some of them even live on their own.”

“And what about children? I know you were concerned about that.”

“She said that the chance of a couple with Down syndrome conceiving a child is less than one in a hundred. But just to be safe, if they decide to get married, they should be checked to see whether they’ll need birth control. She offered to counsel them. So at least that’s in place. And at least I know what we’re dealing with.”

“So are you and Silas handling this any better?”

Connie chuckled nervously. “We’re crossing our fingers that they’ll just stay friends. But at least we’ll be prepared for whatever happens. We’ve invited Daniel to supper tonight. Let’s hope it’s a step in the right direction.”

“I’ll be hoping with you,” Maggie said. “The one thing we all want is Katy’s happiness.”

True to her word, Francine showed up a few minutes after Connie ended the call. By then Maggie’s sense of desperation over the Santa search had returned. “Oh, honey!” She enfolded Maggie in a warm hug. “You look like you haven’t slept in days! I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you. It’s just been a busy time, decorating the B and B, and hosting Christmas parties there. I take it you haven’t found your Santa Claus yet.”

“Give me your coat and have a seat.” Maggie indicated a cushy armchair with a footstool, close to the fire. “I’ll bring you some coffee.”

Francine sank into it with a sigh. “Oh, this is heaven. I’ve been on my feet for four solid hours!”

Maggie brought her the coffee on a tray, which she placed on a side table. “Go ahead, take off your shoes. I won’t mind a bit,” she said. “I don’t know how you manage to work in heels.”

“Long habit, honey.” Francine slipped off her red pumps and let them drop to the floor. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your troubles. Hank told me you went to see him a while back.”

“Yes, we had a good talk. But he and Travis still haven’t made peace. And I couldn’t talk him into playing Santa Claus. I was hoping you could talk to him again.”

“I could try,” Francine said. “But Hank’s a proud, stubborn man. When he digs in his heels, it’s like moving a mountain.” She added a dollop of cream and two cubes of sugar to her coffee and took a sip. “What about the sleigh? Have you got that lined up?”

“Conner’s said all along that he’d be willing to drive the sleigh and handle the horses. But he doesn’t want to be Santa, and even if he’d do it, he wouldn’t look the part.”

“He’s the rodeo cowboy, right? I’ve seen him in Shop Mart. My stars and garters!” Francine cooled herself with an imaginary fan. “I wanted to wrap him up with a big red bow and take him home. And that other man—the tall, dark, quiet one. He looks like a young George Clooney! I tell you, the female hormone level in this town has skyrocketed since those three took over the ranch.”

Maggie had to smile. “I know what you mean. But we’re talking about finding a Santa for the kids, not the women. That’s why we need Hank. With the suit and beard, he’d look like the real deal. And I’ve watched him pass out treats when the families come in for trees. I can tell he likes kids. Couldn’t we use that angle—that he should do it for the little ones?”

“I already tried that, honey. At first, I thought it might work, but in the end, he just dug in his heels again.”

“Oh dear.” Maggie’s shoulders drooped. “But there’s got to be a way to change his mind. If Conner drives the sleigh, maybe Hank would—”

“It’s not enough. He’s waiting for Travis.”

“So am I. I’ve told Travis that we can’t move on together until he settles this. But Travis isn’t ready. In a way, I understand. It’s not so much a question of making peace with his father; his real struggle is making peace with himself.” Maggie sighed. “I guess we’ve hit a dead end, haven’t we?”

Francine sank deeper into her chair. “Too bad we can’t get old Abner back. He was such a great Santa. I can still picture him in that sleigh, laughing and waving at the kids, with that cute black and white dog sitting next to him, wearing its own Santa hat. The kids loved that.”