Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(31)

And after all, this wasn’t about him, or even about Grace. It was about making a warm Christmas memory for his little girl. If Maggie wanted Grace to be here, and if she could talk Grace into staying, he would make the best of it.

“Please stay, Miss Chapman,” Maggie pleaded. “It would make me so happy.”

Grace glanced at Sam. He gave her a smile and a nod. She sighed. “All right, Maggie. But I can’t stay long. What do you say we clear the table and put everything away in the kitchen? Then we can go in and decorate your tree.”

“Yes!” Maggie clapped her hands, jumping up and down.

They made short work of cleaning up the kitchen. Sam set three mugs on the counter and spooned instant cocoa mix into each one. When the tree was done, he could heat some water for the hot chocolate Maggie had promised. Maybe everything would be all right, he told himself. Maybe the holiday ritual he’d been dreading wouldn’t be so bad after all.

They gathered in the living room, Grace taking a seat on the ottoman next to the tree, Maggie already flitting to the boxes to tear away the masking tape that had held them closed for almost two years. Tearing away at memories that were still raw—maybe too raw for Sam to handle.

But for Maggie’s sake, maybe it was time he tried.

Sam touched a match to the newspaper he’d stuffed under the stacked wood in the fireplace. Kindling crackled as the fire caught. By the time the logs began to blaze, Maggie had all three of the boxes opened.

Sam settled on the arm of the sofa, close to the tree and close to Grace. “All right, Miss Maggie, you’re in charge,” he said.

“First the lights.” Maggie pulled the carefully wound string of lights out of the first box. “I need both of you to help me.”

Lights, at least, were just lights. Sam and Grace stood on either side of the lopsided tree, guiding the string of lights where Maggie directed. Once Sam wound the last few feet of the string around the upper part of the tree, the job was done.

“I see an outlet behind the tree,” Grace said. “Do you want me to plug the lights in?”

“Not yet,” Maggie said. “We have to wait till the tree’s all decorated. Then we plug in the lights. That’s how Mom liked to do it.”

Sam glanced at Grace, wondering if Maggie’s mention of her mother had bothered her. But then, why should it? Grace was here as a friend. She was only staying because Maggie had begged her to.

Maggie pushed the second box toward Grace. “You can hand me the ornaments, Miss Chapman, and I’ll hang them on the tree. Daddy, you can watch until we’re ready to hang the ones that go up high. Okay?”

“Okay.” Sam settled back onto the couch. Maggie had been just four years old the last time her family had decorated a Christmas tree. But he knew his little girl. She would remember every detail. The memories would hurt, and he would let them. Maybe he’d been holding them back for too long. Maybe this was what they both needed.

Grace sat with her ankles crossed, reflected firelight glowing on her skin. She was smiling at something Maggie had said, her lips soft, her expression tender. She hadn’t meant to stay and probably felt out of place, but she was making an effort to fit in. Sam liked her for that.

The porcelain ornaments in the box were protected by layers of bubble wrap, each one lovingly packed away by Bethany’s hands. She had bought them at specialty stores, and had even ordered some of them custom-made. Each one had its own special meaning. Her plan had been to buy one to commemorate each important memory in their lives as the years passed, so that each Christmas, the tree would tell the story of their family. That plan had ended last November, on a storm-slicked road coming home from Cottonwood Springs, where she’d gone to do some early Christmas shopping.

But he wouldn’t think about that now. This year’s tree, with its tokens of memory, would be for Maggie.

The first ornament Grace unwrapped and handed to Maggie was a miniature wedding cake, complete with a bride and groom on top. “Mom bought this to remember when she and Daddy got married,” Maggie said. “She hung it on their very first Christmas tree.”

Sam watched his daughter hang the wedding ornament on one of the lower branches. The feeling that came over him was bittersweet. Bethany was gone, but they’d made good memories together. There was a rightness about keeping those memories alive. Even so, Maggie had been right. Bethany would have wanted him to be happy. She would have wanted him to move on.

For the first time in more than a year, Sam realized that he was going to be all right.

*

Next, Grace unwrapped a pretty little porcelain house. “This one is to remember when Mom and Daddy got this house. Mom told me that Daddy worked really hard to buy it.” Maggie hung the ornament on the tree.

“And this?” Grace had unwrapped the figure of an angel with wings—but not a traditional Christmas angel. This one appeared to be an elderly woman with short, white hair and glasses. It must have been custom-made. Grace had never seen anything like it for sale.

“That’s my grandma. Her name was Maggie, too, same as mine.” Maggie took the angel from Grace’s hand and hung it as high on the tree as she could reach. “She’s an angel in heaven. So’s my grandpa. Mom had her friend make angels to remember them. I’ve still got my other grandma and grandpa. They live in Arizona now, where it doesn’t get cold.”