2. Soren
2
SOREN
H ow I let myself get roped into partnering with Sunny Sunshiningson was beyond me. One moment I was thinking the idea of hosting a blasted festival on my beloved ranch was a risky endeavor that could be nothing but a money pit. Next thing I knew, I was coerced into helping. I should have kept my big mouth shut.
“When should we meet to get our planning started?” Finley asked me as we walked out of the kitchen into the bright dining room. “We have to jump on this right away if we’re going to make it by Christmas.”
“I’m busy running the ranch,” I said. “So, it’ll have to be in the evening.”
“Really? I thought you quit around three every afternoon?”
“I do not quit at three.” How dare she question my work ethic? “At least not during the busy season. Not to mention, I get up at the crack of dawn every day to take care of the animals.”
“It’s not the busy season now. Therefore, we should meet at three this afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll put some options together for the ice rink.” Finley clapped her hands together and bounced on the tips of her toes. Like a kid. This woman couldn’t be more annoying.
“Fine. Let’s meet at my house,” I said. “At quarter past three. I’ll need to shower after being in the barn all day.”
“Good idea.” She giggled. “The meeting time. Not the shower. Although that’s a good idea, too.”
At least her chirping came with an adorable English accent. If not, she would have been even more irritating. Honestly, how could anyone be so chipper all the time?
I stole a glance at her as we walked out to the front patio. The autumn sun glinted on her golden-streaked hair, which she had pulled back in a bouncy ponytail on top of her head. Yeah, even her hair was perky. She squinted into the light, then reached into her bag for a pair of sunglasses—with black frames, like the movie stars used to wear in bygone eras.
“Those take up most of the real estate on your face,” I said.
“Do they look bad?”
Surprised by her crestfallen tone, I stopped midway down the stairs. “They look fine. I was merely making an observation.”
“My eyes are really sensitive to light.”
“Because they’re blue,” I said. “Therefore, more susceptible to sunlight.”
“You’ve noticed their color?”
“It would be hard not to.” It would be nearly impossible, actually. Her almond-shaped eyes were the color of a summer Montana sky. Although I’d noticed in some lights, they appeared more like sapphires. Not that I was trying to be a Miss Sunnyside expert or anything. In my defense, life was quiet in our part of the world.
She gave me another quizzical look. “I need to get back to my desk. We have a few folks checking in this afternoon, and I want to make sure the cookies and milk are laid out. One of the families has two little girls, and their mom told me over the phone they’re super excited for their vacation. I would be too.”
“About the cookies?”
“What? No, not the cookies. Being here at the ranch. It’s a child’s dream come true.”
“I always thought so.”
“It must have been a glorious place to grow up,” Finley said, sounding wistful. “When I was a kid, we lived in London in an apartment on a busy street.”
“In that case, you should have the wine and cheese ready too. For the mother.”
“Did you just make a joke?” Finley looked up at me, widening her eyes dramatically.
“Merely an observation.”
“Regardless, it was funny.”
“Okay. Well, I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “Three fifteen.”
We parted ways. As I crossed the property to our barn, I contemplated my interactions with Finley, which frequently confused me. More often than not, I left feeling unsure of what I’d done to raise her hackles. So far, I hadn’t come up with any answers. That was the problem with humans. They perplexed me. Horses, on the other hand, always made sense.
Inside, I headed toward the stalls, stopping first to check on Mabel. She was a beauty, a striking sorrel mare with a glossy reddish-brown coat and a petite, athletic build.
“How you doing, sweet girl?” Mabel was supposed to give birth any day now.
She lifted her kind, expressive face and tossed her flaxen mane and tail. She seemed fine, without any of the signs of impending labor. I placed a hand gently on the taut swell of her stomach. She was warm to the touch there, not surprising, given the increased blood flow as she prepared for birth. “Everything okay in there?” As if he or she knew I was there, the foal moved and then kicked.
Mabel was known for her sweet and gentle temperament. Her calm demeanor made her a great choice for nervous riders of any age. I always assigned her to novice riders, children, or elderly folks. “You exude trust and reliability, don’t you, old girl?” I caressed her nose. “We’ll get you back on the trails after a while, don’t you worry.” Mabel excelled in trail riding and had a knack for understanding her rider's cues with ease.
She looked at me with her big eyes and whinnied. “No reason to feel nervous, Miss Mabel. You’ve done this before, remember? I know you’ll do great. And I can’t wait to meet your new baby.” This would be her second foal. She’d given birth to her first a few summers back and had proven to be a terrific mother.
I heard someone enter the barn and turned to see that it was our local veterinarian and good friend, Arabella Collins.
“Hey, what brings you out?” I asked. We’d known Arabella all our lives, as her father owned the ranch next to ours. She hadn’t planned to come home right after veterinarian school, but her father had dementia, and with no other family members to care for him, she’d moved back to Bluefern.
“I was on my way back into town and thought I’d stop to see how Mabel’s doing,” Arabella said. “Any sign the colt’s breech?”
“I don’t believe so. But I’d sure appreciate it if you’d examine her before you go.”
“No problem,” Arabella said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“I appreciate it. Even as long as I’ve been taking care of horses, I get anxious before they give birth.”
“You lost that colt when we were kids. Probably scarred you for life.” Arabella said this lightly. However, of all people, she understood how devastating it was to lose an animal, especially a baby we’d looked so forward to.
“Yeah. I definitely have scars over that one.” We’d lost the colt soon after Mama had married my stepfather, Jasper Moon. He’d been understanding and nurturing as I grieved. In hindsight, it may have been exacerbated by the trauma we’d gone through with my father. He’d left us for Mama’s best friend, Jennie Armstrong. For reasons not fully known, my father and Jennie’s relationship had turned violent. Jennie had murdered my father and then taken her own life. The repercussions of their actions reverberated to this day. Not enough, however, to have kept Annie Armstrong from marrying my oldest brother, Atticus. They’d been childhood sweethearts torn apart by their parents’ unfortunate choice. When they’d found each other as adults, the feelings were still there. A few months later, they’d married.
“You’ve always loved your animals,” Arabella said.
“They’re so much better than people.”
“True.”
Mabel nuzzled my hand. I gave her a few more affectionate pets before opening the stall door for Arabella to step inside.
While she examined Mabel, I grabbed the bucket of apples I kept nearby and wandered over to say hello to a few of the other horses. We were a small dude ranch, with only twenty in total. Despite the small number, we had a horse for every type of guest.
I stopped at Rusty’s stall first, a handsome chestnut gelding with a striking white blaze running down his face. Gentle and patient, he was also a good choice for beginners or young riders. He was also incredibly reliable and calm on the trails. I’d taken a group out last week, and a snake had slithered into the path. Some horses would have reared and possibly bucked off their rider. Not old Rusty. He simply let it wiggle away and went on about his sure-footed gait without so much as a flicker of his tail.
I stroked his rich reddish-brown coat before giving him an apple from the bucket. He took it gently from my hand, grinned at me, and then chomped into his treat with his big teeth.
In the stall next to Rusty stood Bella, my beautiful palomino with her golden coat. She tossed her creamy white mane as I approached and stared at me with intelligent eyes that seemed almost human.
“How’s my little firecracker today?” I asked Bella as I stroked her nose. Of all my horses, she loved the guests the most, always eager to please. That said, I had to keep her reserved for the more experienced guests. “You don’t suffer fools, do you, old girl?” Bella interpreted signs of uncertainty in a rider as a challenge and would either buck them off or take off running. “Only the real cowboys and girls for you, right?”
I gave her an apple and then wandered over to say hello to Duke. He was a sturdy bay gelding with a sleek, dark brown coat and black mane and tail. His strong, muscular frame and powerful legs made him excellent at ranch work, including roping and herding cattle. We only did it for show these days, but it didn’t take away from how talented he was. In addition, his steady gait and strong build made him a workhorse. There was no one better at hauling guests around on the sleigh or carriage.
Knowing he was impatient when it came to treats, I immediately offered him an apple.
By this time, Arabella had finished examining Mabel. “The foal’s not breech. Mabel shouldn’t have any trouble. I’d guess her baby’s coming in the next day or so.”
I thanked her and walked her out of the barn and into the autumnal light. Yellow, orange, and red hues of fall leaves were vibrant against the blue sky. We stopped near her truck, where I offered her a payment for her trouble. As was often the case, she said it wasn’t necessary. “We’re friends and neighbors. No charge for just stopping by. But you call me if she gets in any trouble. Day or night. I’ll be here in a jiffy.”
I thanked her before asking, “How’s your dad doing?”
Her expression darkened for a moment. She pushed aways strands of fine brown hair away from her face. “You want the truth or what I tell other people?”
“The truth, always.”
“He’s not doing too well. Your brother thinks I should send him to live in one of those memory care facilities, but I’m not ready. I don’t think he is, either. This is his home, you know?”
“I do know.” Arabella’s father had been a mean old cuss before the dementia set in. From what Arabella had reported, the illness had not made him any nicer. She never said too much about it, but I could tell that living with him wasn’t easy.
One day, when I was about ten, Mama had sent me over to the Collins ranch to deliver some banana bread. Our property and the Collins ranch were close enough that we could walk easily back and forth. Over the years, we’d trampled down a pathway that connected our ranches. She and Rafferty were the same age, making them around twelve that winter. I’d stood on the cold porch waiting for her to answer the door.
She’d peeked out through a small opening between the frame and door. Seeing it was me, she opened the door wider and stepped out onto the porch. Even back then, during the awkward years as a preteen girl, she’d been beautiful, with flawless skin and teeth and a serene demeanor. She’d been pudgy as a kid, but by the time she finished her first year of college, she’d transformed into a lean, muscular young woman. When we were small, Thad and I had admired her from afar, although we’d never have admitted it to anyone but each other for fear of being teased by our older brothers.
Rafferty claimed she was his nemesis because they competed for academic honors at school, but I suspected his feelings were more complex. Not that I was an expert on women, obviously. Even so, I had a theory that his unreasonable disdain was merely to mask that he was secretly in love with her. If my suspicions were right, Rafferty might not be able to admit it to himself. He had a stubborn streak. One of the qualities we shared.
As I’d shivered in the cold air, frightened gray-green eyes had peered at me. “I can’t take that,” she’d whispered. “Daddy wouldn’t like it.”
“But why?”
“He sees it as charity.” She flushed red. “Plus, I’m supposed to be on a diet. He actually used the word obese to describe me to the doctor last week. Did you know there are places you can go to lose weight?”
I shook my head, not following.
Just then, Mr. Collins had come barreling up the porch stairs, demanding his lunch. Arabella told him it wasn’t quite ready, and he exploded with rage, screaming and calling her names I wouldn’t have dared said in a million years for fear of Mama’s wrath. She had no tolerance for swear words, especially those that were used to hurt someone.
In that moment, as Mr. Collins screamed, I’d wished the porch would open up and swallow me. It was that uncomfortable. Ever since then, I understood what she’d had to live with on a daily basis. It would not have surprised me if she’d left Bluefern and never come back. Her father didn’t deserve her sacrifice or goodness. Not then and not now.
“I should go,” Arabella said. “I’ve got another stop before I head home to check on Dad.”
“You let us know if you need anything. Seriously. We’re here for you any time, night or day.”
“That’s sweet of you. As much as Rafferty makes me crazy, he’s a great doctor. We’re in good hands. For now, anyway. I know Rafferty’s right that he needs to go to a facility, but for now, I’m hanging in there.”
“Do you get out much? Like for fun?” I asked.
“Not really. I have a woman stopping in around lunch to check on him, but I need to be home at night. God, forbid he wanders off and gets lost.”
Arabella left to head to her next appointment, and I returned to the barn, spending the rest of the morning cleaning stalls and grooming horses alongside my two ranch hands. By two, I’d finished what I needed to do and went back to the main house to shower and change out of my work clothes.
Silence met me when I entered the kitchen through the back door of the house that, until recently, I’d shared with my brothers. It was only me here now that Thad and Sammie had moved into their newly remodeled farmhouse. A month before that, Caspian and Elliot had moved to their new house. I hadn’t realized how much I would miss the noisiness of family life. For one thing, I’d never lived alone. As the second youngest of five boys, my whole life had been one rowdy, messy adventure with my brothers. When Sammie and little Chloe had moved in last year, they’d brought energy into the house, much as it had been when we were kids ourselves.
Oh well. The house was quiet now. I should enjoy the privacy. The television remote was all mine. Somehow, it was not as great as I’d imagined it would be.
I showered and changed and was out the door to enjoy the fantastic autumn afternoon. Maybe we should sit on the patio of the restaurant? No sooner had I thought that than I spotted Finley crossing the grass toward me carrying a large three-ring binder notebook clutched to her chest as if she were worried someone would take it.
She quickened her step, making her glossy, bouncy ponytail bounce until she was upon me. We said at the same time, “Where should we meet?”
“What do you think about sitting on the patio?” I asked, gesturing toward the mostly empty outside seating area.
“It’s a glorious day, so yes, let’s do it. I love the patio.”
Love it? This woman loved everything, as far as I could tell. It was unnatural.
I spotted Caspian talking with his wine supplier at the back of the restaurant as we passed through to the patio. We only served lunch and breakfast on the patio, thus it was made up of picnic tables and benches. I led us back to the far corner and waited for her to take a seat first before sitting across from her.
Almost immediately, one of Caspian’s servers hustled over to take our order. “Are you hungry?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t had anything today but a few eggs and toast for breakfast. “I think I’ll order a burger and a beer. Other than this, I’m done for the day.”
“I’m officially off-duty too,” Finley said. “And I haven’t eaten either, so make that two.”
After the server left, Finley turned toward me. “I open up the office at seven and I simply adore getting off of work so early. During the summer, I take a walk or a swim at the river after my shift’s over. It’s brilliant.”
“Be careful of bears.”
“Are you being serious? I’m terrified of them. For real.”
“Don’t go down to the river alone,” I said.
“Now you tell me.”
“You shouldn’t swim alone anyway. It’s dangerous.”
She looked as if she wanted to say something but instead glanced up at the sky, smiling like a lunatic about God knew what. “Goodness, it’s gorgeous today. This is my second fall here, and I’m so excited for all the colors and crispness in the air. Your mother invited me to Thanksgiving dinner again. I had so much fun last year. It’s a dream come true, being part of a family dinner again.”
“Again?” I asked, curious despite my misgivings about Miss Blazing Light.
Her eyes dimmed slightly, and she lifted one petite shoulder. “My parents died when I was eighteen. After that, it was just my twin and me, and…we’ve not always seen eye to eye. Actually, we’ve never seen eye to eye. Growing up, she found my cheerfulness annoying. Just like you. You’d probably love her.”
I stared at her for a moment. Was my annoyance that obvious? Regardless of my true feelings about Miss Luminous, it pained me to think I’d hurt her feelings.
“Don’t bother to deny it,” Finley said. “You don’t like me.”
“I like you fine.”
“Liar.” She grinned as the server approached with our beers.
After the server left us, she returned her gaze to me. “You know it’s weird, I’ve hardly ever met someone who I couldn’t win over. I mean, other than when I was in prison. That was a whole different animal. Those ladies were hardened criminals, of course, so I don’t think that counts. Do you?”
“Prison?” Had she just said prison?
“Oh, you don’t know about my past?”
“No, I can’t say I do. We hired someone with a record?” I said this last part more to myself, but she clearly heard me.
She took a long draw from her pint glass and then dabbed daintily at her upper lip. “I told Sammie all about it, but she’s not the type to gossip, now that I think about it. Thad knows, of course. I would never have kept anything like that from him. He’s so honest and good, it would be wrong to ever lie about anything.”
“What crime did you commit?” I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
“None whatsoever. I was falsely convicted of robbing a bank. My identical twin was the one who robbed a bank along with her loser boyfriend. The authorities thought it was me on the surveillance tape, and I was convicted for a fifteen-year sentence.”
“That long?”
“There were guns involved,” Finley said. “But then this angel disguised as a lawyer came to my rescue. He took on my case pro bono, and I was exonerated.”
“You and your twin must look exactly alike.”
“We do.”
“Where is your sister now? Did they put her in jail after you were proven innocent?”
She shook her head. “My sister’s never been found—she just vanished into thin air. She was involved with some bad people, so who knows where she is now. As long as she doesn’t set foot in Montana, then I’m good.”
“That must have been really rough. I’m sorry.”
She twirled a finger through that springy ponytail, looking pensive. “At the time, it was terrible. I actually thought I’d be in there for the whole fifteen-year sentence. Which was a pretty bleak future, I can assure you. You can’t imagine how much more I appreciate freedom now.”
“I can’t imagine you in prison garb.”
Finley laughed, low and throaty. “It was not my finest hour, that’s for sure.” She reached for the three-ring binder she’d placed by her side. “I took the liberty of putting together some of my ideas for the festival. Now, keep in mind I only had a few hours to work on this, so don’t judge. It’s kind of a messy mishmash.” She opened it with a dramatic flourish.
I blinked at what lay before me. Miss Bubbly had put together an entire notebook of visual suggestions for the festival.
She thrust the book toward me. “Like I said, this isn’t very extensive, given the time frame I had to put it together, but you’ll get the idea of where I’m going. I hope, anyway. Take a peek and see what you think. I found some inspiration in magazines and others from Pinterest, which I made copies of using the color printer. Please don’t be mad about the trees.”
“The trees?”
“Because of all the paper I used. For the notebook.”
“That’s not the first thing that came to mind.” I opened the first tab to see photos of twinkling fairy lights strung across trees and pathways. The next display was of fake reindeer, snowflakes, holiday-themed arches, lanterns, and candles. An entire two-page spread was devoted to a decorated Christmas tree adorned with ornaments, ribbons, garlands, and wreaths made from evergreen branches, holly, and berries.
“The wreaths look hard to make, but they’re really not,” Finley said as if I’d expressed concern. “I’ll have to go into Bozeman to the craft store, obviously, but that won’t be much trouble at all. I absolutely adore crafts. If I ever had my own house, I would totally have a whole room just for that.”
I turned another page to see photographs of centerpieces featuring pinecones, candles, and seasonal flowers.
Good Lord.
Another showed photos of cozy seating areas adorned with blankets, pillows, firepits, market stalls, and booths decorated with festive colors selling holiday crafts. There were even examples of ice sculptures.
“Ice sculptures?” I asked.
“I know. That might be unrealistic, but I’ll look into it.”
She’d drawn a performance stage as well as pictures of people dressed as holiday characters like Santa Claus, elves, and reindeer. “What’s this?” I asked.
“The stage is where we’ll do the Christmas play,” Finley said. “We’ll also have live music. Won’t that be lovely?”
“Play?” I asked, incredulous. “As in theater?”
“For the kids.”
“Right. Obviously.”
“Did you draw all of this?” I asked.
“Yeah, they’re terrible, I know.” She grimaced apologetically.
“Not terrible. Not at all. I had no idea you could draw.”
“It’s just a hobby, really,” Finley said.
Next came a photo of an ice skating rink surrounded by festive lights. Then, my eyes were bombarded by images of craft stations for children to make holiday decorations, ornaments, and gingerbread houses. Another photo had examples of food stalls serving traditional holiday treats such as roasted chestnuts, hot dogs, and turkey legs, as well as sweets like gingerbread cookies, candy canes, and holiday-themed cupcakes and pastries.
“Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.
“These are just ideas.” Finley waved a hand dismissively. “I imagine Caspian and Elliot will want to create their own menu. I just thought this might spark some ideas.”
“It’ll spark something, I’m sure of that.”
She glanced at me, the twinkle in her eyes snuffed out.
I’d done that. I’d made her feel bad. Why had I done that? She was annoying but actually really sweet and kind of adorable. Not that I understood one thing about her and probably never would.