Their Convenient Christmas Engagement
Author
Catherine Mann
Reads
19.3K
Chapters
14
Chapter One
Most people hated the hectic pace of the holidays. But not Gwen Bishop. She embraced the chaos as the perfect tonic for forgetting heartache.
And today? She was busy enough to forget every detail of the world’s worst marriage.
Breathless, Gwen spread her arms wide to brace a wobbling shelf of snow globes, only half registering the apology of a teenage shopper who’d pulled one from the very back, nearly upending the entire display. Running the Top Dog Dude Ranch gift shop and chasing after her six-year-old triplets kept her busy enough in normal times. During the Christmas season? That pace went into hyperdrive.
Especially when the credit card machine went on the fritz like today. While the ranch had state-of-the-art Wi-Fi, connectivity could still be iffy in this mountainous area. Just her luck, the place was packed today with ranch guests looking for a last-minute gift and a warm place to thaw out.
Thankfully, even though the dude ranch’s childcare was understaffed this week, her three sons were currently occupied. The downside was that they were in the back room of her store. Which made her hectic holiday season even more frenzied. All the mayhem was almost enough to make her forget that two years ago today, her husband died in a car accident—along with his mistress, who’d been in the passenger seat.
Once she’d stabilized the shelf again, Gwen reached for the snow globe in question—featuring a dog with a Santa hat—and turned back to the two teenage girls. After forty-five minutes of browsing, she was just grateful that they’d made a selection. With luck, soon Gwen could move on to the other customers before the music piping from the sound system finished another chorus of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
Pulling a smile, Gwen placed the snow dome on the counter, the flurry of flakes mirroring the ones on the other side of the shop window. “Are you ready to check out?”
“Yes, thanks,” one of the girls said, toying with her necklace that sported the initial K and motioning to the other teen, who was totally focused on taking selfies in front of the display of nutcracker necklaces. “My big sister will pay.”
The other teen paused taking her diva, duck-lip selfies long enough to pass over her leather cross-body bag to her sibling.
Miss K fished out a wallet and plucked free a credit card, one of three peeking from the billfold. “Here you go.”
Of course the girls wanted to use a card. “I’m afraid the card machine is down.”
Apparently, this sale wasn’t going to wrap up quickly after all.
The selfie-diva waved a hand dismissively. “Just charge it to our parents’ room. We would text them but, uh, my battery is about to die.”
Gwen pulled a tight smile. “I’ll give them a quick call to confirm...”
Except she had only one bar of service on her own cell. She started to reach for the landline.
With a dramatic sigh, diva-girl pushed away from the makeup counter. “Never mind. We can pay cash.”
Miss K opened the wallet again and pulled out a folded stack of money. She peeled off four twenties as easily as Gwen used a one-dollar bill. The ranch catered to all price points, from massive cabins, to a glamping campground.
These girls did not look like the camping sort, not even glampers.
After scanning the purchase into the machine tucked inside a vintage cash register, Gwen slid the payment into the drawer and bagged the merchandise—the St. Nick ornament, two Top Dog sweatshirts, the snow globe and a block of peppermint fudge. “Thank you so much for your business. Hope you have a wonderful vacation.”
The minute the bells chimed on the closing door, she pivoted to check on her boys, just visible behind the half door between the shop and the back room. None of the remaining shoppers seemed close to making a purchase just yet, so she thought she could spare a minute.
Sitting on a blanket with their homework were Gideon, Caleb and Timothy, each wearing a different color Christmas sweatshirt with a tree made from a painted handprint. Her sons looked just alike to other people, but they were so distinct to her. Caleb was the bookworm with a current obsession for anything related to whales. Gideon was her mischief-maker who’d given himself a haircut last week—a really bad haircut even the barber had struggled to fix. Timothy was her tenderhearted child who stuffed his pockets full of flowers, ever ready for anyone who seemed sad.
Even on such a busy day—and a day darkened with unhappy memories—the sight of her boys filled her heart with maternal love, fierce pride and contentment that had gotten her through the toughest times over the past two years.
She leaned over the half door and called, “Everything going okay with your homework?”
“Yep,” Timothy piped up, the first to reassure her, as expected.
Gideon rocked back on his heels, running a hand over his new close-cropped cut. “Caleb is hogging the blue crayon and I need it.”
“I don’t see a timer.” Caleb didn’t even look up, only colored faster. “Whales are blue.”
She started to open the half door to referee and locate the extra box of craft supplies—just as a hand tapped her on the shoulder. So much for breaks. She turned to find...not a stranger, but a local who landed in her shop often lately.
“Hello, Mrs. Greer,” Gwen said, looking around the woman to see if she was alone. “What can I help you with today?”
Florence Greer wandered in at least every other day, looking for conversation rather than something to buy. Her attention was usually drawn by the vintage toys Gwen restored. In her sixties, Florence had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, according to her son, who usually arrived to help steer her back home when she lost her way. Her too-handsome son was a gruff lumberjack sort of man who seemed more comfortable in the woods than with people. He had left his park ranger job and moved with his mother to Moonlight Ridge to run a Christmas tree farm located next to the Top Dog Dude Ranch.
It was not a short walk by any means. The woman’s memory might be slipping, but clearly her hiking skills were top-notch.
Florence shrugged out of her wool cape, revealing an oversize cable-knit sweater, jeans and duck boots that were still damp from the snow. A long gray braid trailed down her back. “I’m doing a little last-minute Christmas shopping and just love that metal train set in the window.”
The same toy Florence had asked about three times this week.
And the week before that, she’d been fixated on a refinished wooden horse on wheels.
Before that, she’d coveted an old stuffed doll with a fresh gingham dress.
Gwen’s heart squeezed with sympathy. She restored the toys to bring people joy and even though she wouldn’t be making a sale today, she couldn’t help but be pleased that the train had brought a grin to this lady’s face.
“Of course, Mrs. Greer, I’ll take you over to look at it.” Gwen leaned into the play area, calling out to all, even though she really only meant Caleb. “Boys, behave now, share the crayons, and we’ll go to the cowboy cookout after I close up.”
Stepping forward, Mrs. Greer waved at Caleb, who was crab walking his way off the blanket. “Well, hello, Ian. Imagine finding you here.”
Gwen winced. Ian was Florence’s son’s name. The hot lumberjack-looking son. Who would need to be called. Soon. But right now, Gwen struggled with how to handle the woman’s confusion about Caleb. Before she could speak, her son jumped up on the half door, balancing on his stomach.
“Hi, lady. My name is Caleb and I like whales.” As he rocked on the ledge, his feet drummed against the bottom panel. “I got a girlfriend. Her name is Ruthie and she likes piranhas.”
“She sounds like a wonderful young lady.” Florence stepped forward, taking Caleb’s hand as he lunged over and into the shop. “I used to teach science to little children just like you.”
“That’s cool,” Caleb said, still holding her hand. “Maybe you can be my teacher. Mine is cranky and is always telling me to sit at my desk.”
Now, that was a discussion for another day. Gwen tried to reroute the woman. “Mrs. Greer, would you like to look at the train now?”
“The train? No, I came for... Uh... I’m looking for...” Florence fished through her purse, growing more and more agitated. Finally, she looked up with confused brown eyes. “I seem to have misplaced my list.”
Caleb leaned closer and whispered upward, “I misremember things too sometimes. Like how I forgot to brush my teeth last night, but don’t tell my mom.”
“It’s our secret,” Florence said before her forehead furrowed. “But I did not forget. People keep moving my things around. Where’s my son?”
Gwen recognized the signs of sundowning, an increased sense of confusion and agitation later in the day. More often than not, that was when Mrs. Greer landed in the Top Dog’s gift shop. When that happened, she couldn’t be trusted to make her way home on her own. Gwen would have to contact Ian.
“Mrs. Greer, your son’s not here but we can call him.” Gwen rested a light hand on the woman’s arm. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”
And as Gwen reached into her apron pocket for her cell phone, she prayed that one bar of connectivity would be enough to get her message through. As she tapped out the words of the text message, she told herself her speeding heart rate was only a byproduct of her busy day. Not because she would soon be seeing grumpy, hunky Ian Greer.
Because even if she had the time for a relationship—which she did not—today’s gut-wrenching anniversary reminded her that she wasn’t interested in putting her heart on the line ever again.
Ian Greer was out of ideas for keeping his mother safe.
Exhausted and frustrated from the top of his head all the way down to his muddy boots, he steered his work truck along the snowy mountain road leading to the Top Dog Dude Ranch’s main lodge. He’d changed jobs, purchasing the Christmas tree farm in Moonlight Ridge, Tennessee, for more flexibility to care for his mom. And still it wasn’t enough to keep track of her, according to the latest text he’d received from Gwen Bishop.
A text sent over an hour ago, when he’d been deep in the woods.
The instant he’d read it, he’d assured Gwen he was on his way and asked her to please, please not let his mother leave until he could get there. Asking for favors didn’t come easily, especially when he knew that the single mother already had a full plate herself.
He’d loaded his dog in the crew cab and hit the road. His oversize mutt was tethered in the back seat, but sitting up, Sampson rested his head on Ian’s shoulder. The dog looked to be a Great Pyrenees/Labrador retriever mix, with gangly legs and a fluffy white coat, but there was no way to be sure since Ian had gotten him at the shelter as a puppy. A puppy that grew and grew and grew. Thank goodness the Top Dog Dude Ranch was dog friendly throughout. Taking Sampson home first would have delayed him even more in retrieving his mom.
Besides, he enjoyed having Sampson with him.
Throwing his truck into Park, he waited for the sidewalk traffic to clear before stepping out, a crisp breeze whirling the snow around him.
“Come on, buddy.” Ian opened the back door and unhooked the mutt’s tether before attaching a leash to his collar.
His gentle giant lumbered out of the truck and onto the icy sidewalk, giving himself a massive shake-off before ambling forward. While the Top Dog Dude Ranch covered acres—stables, barns, cabins, a main lodge, even a small arena—this narrow little main street was the hub of activity. As always, there was plenty to see and do.
But today, he focused only on making fast tracks to the gift shop. To his mom. Who was in the care of the too-distracting shop manager. Not that he was in the market for a love life. His fiancée had dumped him because—according to her—he spent too much time taking care of his mother. He’d been glad to uncover her true nature before they’d tied the knot. Good riddance. Still, it would be a long time before he trusted another woman. He’d come to accept that his mother’s welfare was his top priority. Anyone who had an issue with that could take a hike.
Sampson padded alongside him, leaving fat paw prints in the freshly fallen snow. Ian charged forward, past the packed ice skating rink with a massive Christmas tree in the middle. He’d delivered the forty-foot-tall specimen himself just yesterday. Decorations had been hung—large red and green paw prints. Tomorrow night, the staff would host a lighting ceremony for the guests, with dinner and music. His mom would love it.
He hoped.
His feet carried him by memory to the shop. Heaven knew he’d been there often enough lately. The window was trimmed in multicolored lights, the larger, old-fashioned kind. With the vintage toys, the picture window resembled a throwback in time.
No wonder his mother was drawn to this place.
Shoving open the door, he stepped into the scent of cinnamon and Christmas. Cookies and tradition. Carols chimed through the air.
Sampson at his side, Ian searched the store for his mother, scanning past a group wearing matching family reunion sweatshirts, over a couple that looked to be on their honeymoon. But his mother was nowhere in sight. Had she wandered off again? He hated to think that Gwen Bishop would have let his mom walk out, still he knew all too well how adept his mother could be at giving people the slip.
As he scanned for his mom, his gaze stopped short—on Gwen.
Only twenty feet away, she stood behind the vintage cash register, the red highlights in her pale blond hair shining in the overhead fluorescent light. Her blue eyes widened in recognition as they locked with his, a snap of current popping like static. The same awareness he experienced every time their paths crossed.
Did she feel it too? If so, then she’d been doing her level best to ignore it as well, because she hadn’t given him so much as a hint of encouragement.
She angled to say something to the customer beside her before starting toward him, winding around a display of carved Santas, past a shelf of snow globes. She sidestepped a young family kneeling to inspect the electric train circling the base of a decorated tree.
And as she moved, he allowed himself a moment to study her before real-world concerns took precedence again. Her apron was patterned with tiny paw prints, her name tag shaped like a bone with the Top Dog Dude Ranch logo and her name. A sprinkle of freckles danced across her nose. She looked like a life-size version of a treetop angel.
Except his thoughts traveled very naughty paths when it came to this particular angel, even though he knew she was too sweet for a jaded guy like him.
Stopping in front of him, Gwen stuffed her hands in the apron pockets. “You’re here.” She nodded toward Sampson. “Both of you.”
Her laugh was soft, husky, like a bedroom voice. He reminded himself the sound was more likely from the cold air and a long day at work, which he and his mother had made even longer. Guilt pinched.
“I came as soon as I got your message. There was no time to run Sampson here back to the house. I hope you don’t mind.” He pulled off his gloves and swept the snow from the shoulders of his parka.
“The shop is canine friendly as long as they’re leashed.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you mind if I give him a dog treat?”
“He would like that. Thanks.” Sampson was probably as starving as Ian, both having missed supper. “Sorry it took so long, but I was in the woods.”
“I’m just surprised the text came through at all. Connectivity is questionable today.” She nodded as she reached into a dog-shaped cookie jar and pulled out a treat. “I understand.”
After waiting calmly for the dog to sit, she passed over the biscuit on her palm. Sampson nibbled it up gently, eliciting another one of those low laughs that teased the air.
His eyes could linger on her if he let them. He didn’t intend for that to happen. “And my mom is where...?”
“Mrs. Greer is in the back.” Her eyebrows pinched together, looking a hint offended. “Did you think I would let her leave?”
“She can be slippery.” He knew that all too well. Just this week, she’d gathered everything to work in her little greenhouse patio and take in the sun, only to disappear out the back door in her slippers. “Lately, she’s gotten better at pretending to understand what’s going on around her. Like a last defense against the disease.”
Gwen’s face relaxed, her blue eyes sympathetic. “Well, rest assured, I wouldn’t have let her wander off, especially late in the day with the whole sundowning effect. I figured if you hadn’t responded by closing time, I would drive her over.”
It took him by surprise that she knew the phrase sundowning—that she understood the increased confusion that came more often near the end of the day.
“I’m glad you didn’t have to do that.” He adjusted his hold on Sampson’s leash. “Mom and I have imposed enough.”
“Nothing to worry about. It’s been a roll-with-the-punches kind of day.” She was always so polite, so gentle-natured. So much so it would be easy for others to take advantage. “My boys’ day care had to cancel today, so I’ve had them here since they got off the school bus.”
He felt even worse for putting her out, and her boys too. If they’d had to delay their supper as well... Time to let her move forward with her day instead of holding things up for her. He wasn’t even sure why he’d talked so much. He wasn’t usually a chatty sort. “You’ve gone above and beyond on my mother’s behalf, and I’m grateful. So if you’ll just point me toward her, we’ll be on our way.”
“She’s in back helping the boys with their homework. If you look right over there...” She motioned to the doorway leading to a back office or storeroom-type area, the bottom panel closed, the top half open. Sounds wafted out. Childish giggles mingled with words from his mother, something to do with whales. His mother sounded happy.
Peaceful even.
A state of mind he had not seen in her that often lately.
He missed his mom. Or, rather, missed how she used to be, before the disease started stealing bits and pieces of her. Seeing her now, so totally herself for the moment, made him happy and squeezed his heart all at once.
Memories rushed over him of all the times he and his mother had sat at the kitchen table, with her teaching him multiplication. Or sitting in front of the fireplace listening to the sound of her voice as she read his favorites... The Call of the Wild, White Fang, Watership Down. Even then he’d had a love for anything to do with the outdoors. His mom’s life must feel so isolated now with him at work all day.
No wonder she wandered over here, between the draw of the vintage toys and young boys to tutor.
“Thank you,” he said, meaning more than just an afternoon of keeping her from leaving. Wishing he could properly thank her for this momentary glimpse of who his mom used to be.
“My grandmother had Alzheimer’s,” she said, her blue eyes full of empathy and sadness. “She lived next door to us. I understand the worry, the need to know that she’s safe.”
“It gets tougher and tougher to ensure every day.” Exhaling, he instinctively reached for the comfort of his dog, threading his fingers through the long fur. “At least let me do something to show my thanks.”
“Truly, no—”
He held up a hand to stop her from protesting. “Would you and the boys like to come with us to the ranch’s tree lighting party tomorrow night?”
The invitation fell out of his mouth even though he had no idea where the idea had come from. But it felt like the right thing to do.
“Thank you,” she said, already shaking her head, “but I’m supposed to work the event.”
“And there’s no chance of getting the evening off?” Why was he pushing? Still, he couldn’t make himself let up.
She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “My assistant has been asking for extra hours and the boys have been spending a lot of time here...”
Victory was in sight. “And it’ll be Friday, so the boys don’t have school the next day.”
She hesitated for a moment before smiling. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”
“Apparently not,” he said wryly, “or my mother wouldn’t keep slipping out and wandering over to your shop.”
From the look on her face, the slow nibble of her lip, he could see she was about to say no. He should be relieved. She tempted him in a way that no other woman had in a long time. He didn’t need that kind of complication right now. Not after the number his last relationship had done on him. But he then heard his mother’s happy laughter, thought of how rare that sound had become.
How long had it been since he’d felt a moment like this one—normal and good?
Just when he’d given up hope of finding a way to persuade her, Gwen nodded tightly and said, “Sure, thank you.”
Victory pulsed through him, even as he didn’t have a clue why this win was so important to him. He clapped his hands together and called out, “Boys, would you like to see Santa tomorrow night at the tree lighting party? I’ve got an inside track that will get you to the front of the line.”
