Forever Santa (8 page)

“Are you all right, Gracie?” Trent looked up from the coffeepot.

“Just getting my laptop.” She pulled the power cord out of the wall and walked as quickly as she could back into the office. She sat down in the spare chair and took a deep breath.

Jordan frowned at her. “Are you sure you’re not doing too much in the barn? Trent said you’ve been tired and it looks…”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Who’s designing your website?”

“I got a quote from a company in Great Falls, but it was too expensive. I was talking to Rob Jones the other day. His daughter, Caitlin, designed his company’s website. She’s going to put one together for me over Christmas.”

Trent put a mug of hot chocolate beside Gracie. “You remember, Caitlin. Mouth full of braces and pushing a shopping cart around Wal-mart?”

“When I first arrived in Bozeman?”

“That’s the one.”

Gracie looked at Jordan. “Are you sure she’ll do a good job?”

Jordan turned his computer screen toward her. “You tell me.” He typed in a website address and waited for it to load. “This is what she designed for her dad.”

Gracie stared at the professional website in front of her. Caitlin’s dad was a local outfitter. She’d captured the hunting, fishing, and hiking activities that people could enjoy perfectly. The pictures were great and the easy navigation around the site made booking different activities easy.

“It looks good. When are you going to start taking bookings?” Gracie took a sip of her drink, thankful that Trent had left his coffee in the kitchen.

“As soon as possible. The barn will be finished by the end of February, so the earliest I want guests staying here is March.”

Gracie did the math. That would be about three months before their baby was born. She’d be the size of a football field, maybe even have swollen feet and uncontrollable cravings.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jordan stared at her with an odd expression on his face.

She shook her pregnancy nightmare away. “I’m thinking about cookies. I’ve only got three months to work out what I’m doing wrong.”

Jordan laughed. “You can test them on me.”

“Since we’re talking about testing things,” Trent said to his brother, “Have you decided what color you want to paint the walls in your apartment.”

Jordan groaned. “Can’t they be white?”

“White’s not a color.” Gracie laughed. “It’s your default setting.”

“What about the oatmeal color you’ve painted the walls in the living room?” Jordan picked up the extra color wheel they kept in the office. “Or even…” He turned the wheel sideways and read the name of another color. “…matchstick?” He turned the color wheel toward Gracie and waited to see what she thought.

“I like both colors. You’ll get plenty of light coming through the windows, so the light gray tones in matchstick would work just as well as the deep cream in oatmeal. What’s your favorite?”

Jordan glanced at Trent.

“Don’t ask me,” Trent said. “I couldn’t choose the right color to save myself.”

Jordan scribbled something on a piece of paper, then tore it in half. “Put these behind your back, Gracie.”

She glanced at the papers and put one in each hand behind her back. “What’s it to be?”

“Left.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Yours.” He leaned forward. “What color am I having?”

“Matchstick. Good choice.”

Jordan walked across to a sheet of paper tacked on the wall. “I’ll add it to the list of supplies I need to order…” He picked up their project plan and raised his eyebrows. “…tomorrow. The painters will be undercoating the walls on Wednesday.”

“And now that we’ve sorted out the paint color,” Trent said, “I’ve got a question for Gracie.”

She looked at her husband over the rim of her mug. She took a quick sip of chocolate, hoping he wasn’t going to ask about her sudden aversion to coffee.

“Do you want me to hang the decorations you bought on the tree?”

Gracie let go of the breath she’d been holding and smiled at Trent. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll give you a hand before I head back to the barn.”

“You’re not doing more painting are you?”

Gracie shook her head. “Your mom and I saw some curtain fabric we like. Now that the first two floors are mostly painted, I want to see what the fabric samples look like in the rooms. I might need your help to hold the tape-measure when I check the window sizes.”

Trent didn’t know it, but she didn’t intend to be anywhere near the painters until they’d finished the barn. Choosing curtains and light fittings would keep her busy until Christmas. And if her plan worked out, she’d be buying nursery furniture as soon as Santa left the ranch.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Trent lifted the last bucket of paint off the back of his truck. It was so damn cold that he swore the handle would have stuck to his hands if he hadn’t been wearing gloves.

“Anything else to bring in?” Jacob grabbed a box loaded with sandpaper, drop clothes, and oil stain. He’d pulled into their driveway not long after Trent arrived home and had been helping to unload the truck.

“There’s a bag of drill bits sitting on the front seat.”

Jacob disappeared inside the cab. “Where do you want them?”

“Put the whole lot in the entranceway.”

They trudged through the snow, scraping their boots on the mat at the front door.

“I need coffee.” Trent walked through to the kitchen. “You want some?”

“Strong and black.” Jacob moved into the center of the living room, staring at what they’d done. “If you ever want to get into property development come and see me.”

Jacob had made a fortune buying and selling property. He’d started small, purchasing his first residential property while he was still in college. By the time he’d finished his degree he’d bought, remodeled, and sold three houses. He preferred commercial property now, deals that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars and added long-term return to his investment.

“Too much risk for my liking,” Trent said. “Jordan’s worked hard to get the barn to what you see today. ”

Jacob walked across to the triple height window that dominated the living area. “You’ve made some good design decisions. People will be lining up to come and stay here.”

“That’s the plan.” Trent took a mug of coffee across to Jacob and looked through the window. Thick snow blanketed the ranch, creating the kind of picture perfect Christmas scene that someone would pay a lot of money to enjoy.

“How’s Alex?”

Jacob shrugged. “He’s doing okay. Dad’s coming home next week. Mom’s going to stay until he’s ready to be transferred back home. How’s Gracie?”

Trent had been wondering the same thing. “She’s tired and not sleeping well. I don’t know whether she’s been working too hard or if she’s worried about Alex.”

“Knowing Gracie I’d say it’s both things added together.”

A pair of boots thumped down the stairs. Trent and Jacob both looked up. “I thought I smelled coffee. Gracie’s banned the stuff while she’s in here.” Jordan grabbed a mug out of a kitchen cupboard and a cookie tin out of the pantry. “You want something to eat? Gracie’s been practicing for when Mrs. Davies isn’t here.”

Trent bit into a cookie and passed the container to Jacob. They tasted better than the last batch he’d tried, not that he’d tell Gracie that.

“She’s getting better,” Jordan muttered as he reached for another cookie.

Something bugged Trent about what his brother had said. “Why doesn’t Gracie want anyone drinking coffee in here?”

Jordan picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Damned if I know. Said the smell was driving her crazy. Are you heading into town tonight?”

“Hadn’t planned on it.” Trent took another gulp of coffee. Gracie didn’t drink a lot of coffee, but she’d never said the smell annoyed her. The coffeepot was always on, waiting to spit out the thick, black, tar she said would kill him.

“What’s so important that you can’t come into town for baby-sitting duties? Chris said the girls don’t plan on being home late. Not with the weather the way it is.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Jacob asked.

Trent put his coffee mug on the counter. “Every Friday a group of us get together. One week the guys are kids free and the next Friday the girls get to have a night on the town.”

“We’re on baby-sitting duties tonight,” Jordan said. “You have to come, Trent. Nathan and Adam can’t make it. I’ll be stuck with a houseful of kids.”

“Ben, Sam, and Chris will be there. You’ll survive.” Trent grinned at his brother, then bit into another cookie. He needed to work on Gracie’s Christmas present. If he didn’t put in a few hours tonight he’d never get it finished in time. “And you have to go. You promised Gracie you’d take her.”

“How many kids are you talking about?” Jacob rinsed his coffee mug in the sink and looked over his shoulder at Jordan.

Sensing a willing victim, Jordan pushed the cookie tin closer to Jacob. “Six kids and as much pizza and ice cream as you can eat. We’ll be back here by half past eight. You could stay the night. Trent’s got plenty of room.”

Jacob laughed at Jordan’s desperation. “I’ll come, but I’ll head back to mom and dad’s ranch afterward.”

Jordon high-fived Jacob, and Trent breathed a sigh of relief. He had a couple of hours to work on Gracie’s present. As for Gracie, he just hoped she enjoyed the time away from the ranch.

***

Gracie laughed at Tess. She was line dancing in the middle of Charlie’s Bar and Grill. Her blonde hair flicked out behind her. She turned to the right, grinning like a cat caught licking a bowl of whipped cream.

“Why aren’t you out there with her?” Emily slurped the last of her drink through the little red straw in her glass. When Gracie didn’t answer straight away, she leaned across the table and stared at her. “You love line dancing.”

“I’m letting my dinner digest.” The pasta she’d ordered was still chasing the side order of mushrooms around her stomach. And then there was the pop Emily had bought her. Combined with the pasta and mushrooms it was doing funny things to her body.

“Is it the baby?” she whispered.

Gracie didn’t know if it was her imagination, but the music in the bar seemed to dip at the pivotal word in Emily’s question. She looked at the booths and tables around them. No one sitting under the wrought iron lights seemed to hear what she’d said.

She was sure there would have been at least one curious gaze if they’d heard Emily’s question. After all, this was Bozeman, home of emerging Facebook connoisseurs and the town most likely to get excited by the birth of a baby.

She knew this from her conversation with Doris Stanley at Jake’s Hardware store this afternoon. Over cordless drills and chain saws, Doris had dissected the latest gossip going around town.

As a lasting memento of some of the colorful blunders people didn’t want to remember, Doris had started her very own Facebook page. She’d developed a strong following among new parents and parents-to-be. Little photos of the latest additions to the population were published, drawing a large number of ‘likes’ each week.

Emily pushed her empty glass away. She slid around the vinyl seat in their booth until she was beside Gracie. “You’ve been worried about something all night. Is everything else okay?”

Gracie stared at the top of the table. “I called mom and dad before I left the ranch. They’re in Las Vegas.”

“What are they doing there?”

“Alex was competing in the National Finals. He had an accident.”

Emily sat completely still. For a few minutes she didn’t say anything. “He’ll be okay. You know, Alex. He’s always being thrown off bulls. It comes with the job.”

Gracie shook her head. “Not this time. The doctors had to operate on his leg. They don’t know if he’ll be able to ride again.”

Even with the dim light over their booth, Gracie watched Emily’s face turn white. “Are you okay, Emily?”

“I’m fine. It’s just...” She stared across the dance floor. “I’m sure it will work out. Alex’s tough. He’ll be back on the circuit before you know it. Are you going to the hospital to see him?”

“The flights to Las Vegas are booked solid.”

“Have you talked to him?”

Gracie shook her head. “Dad said to call tomorrow.”

“You’ll feel better once you’ve heard his voice.” Emily hugged Gracie’s shoulders. “Now tell me about Trent. Have you told him yet?”

“Hi, Gracie.” Jordan grinned at them from beside the table. “I’ve come to save you from Emily.”

“No saving necessary,” Emily said. “I’m an alcohol free zone tonight.”

Jordan slid into the booth and put his glass of pop in front of him. “Charlie won’t be making much money out of any of us tonight. What haven’t you told Trent?”

Gracie tried to think fast, but her brain refused to budge.

“Furniture,” Emily blurted out after a hurried glance at Gracie. “We saw the most gorgeous chair for the barn, but it cost a fortune.”

Jordan looked between Gracie and Emily. “Remind me to never ask either of you to be on my poker team.” He looked closely at Emily before staring at Gracie’s hot cheeks. “It’s got to be something important otherwise you would have told Trent by now. I know…you’ve put a dent in his truck?”