Chapter 5 – The Christmas Conundrum
Ella
The moment Max stomped off toward the barn, muttering something about “chore schedules” and “fool ideas,” my hand instinctively reached for my notepad.
Lists were my lifeline. When everything spun out of control, I made lists. And right now? Everything was spinning like a snow globe on steroids.
To Do: Save Ranch.
No pressure.
I sat at the old kitchen table, sunlight, thin and pale, slanted through the cracked blinds, highlighting dust motes dancing in the chilly air. A half-eaten cinnamon twist from Clarkson’s sat next to my cold coffee. I'd been too wired to finish either. My pen scratched over the paper.
— Christmas Festival: Bake sale, craft booths, sleigh rides?
— Local vendors?
— Lights… tons of lights
— Invite Ethan (Max’s country singer friend?)
— Flyers/posters/social media blitz
— Hashtag campaign #SaveStarcrest
— Talk to Sarah about the bakery’s involvement
The pen trembled a bit in my fingers. I paused, rubbing at my temple. I didn’t know the first thing about livestock auctions or hay prices, but I knew how to pull off an event.
My grad program had been in public relations, after all… before I flamed out, exhausted by the relentless grind and the hollow feeling of selling things I didn't believe in.
I stood up and wandered toward the kitchen sink, where a small window framed a view of the snowy fields. A faded holiday towel hung from the oven door, its candy cane print barely visible after years of washing.
I ran a hand along the edge of the countertop and opened the nearest drawer—half-expecting to find clutter.
Instead, I found a slip of yellowed paper. A grocery list in blocky, slanted handwriting.
Cocoa. Flour. Eggs. String for lights.
It felt like a breadcrumb from a man I’d never met, a quiet message left behind. A piece of a puzzle I was only just beginning to assemble, a connection forming across the years. I folded the list and tucked it into my coat pocket with my notes.
I wasn’t going to let this place die on my watch. Not without a fight.
I stuffed the notepad in my coat pocket, pulled on my gloves, and marched outside. The cold bit into my cheeks, but the wide blue sky and crisp air made the whole ranch seem alive with possibility. Even the weather wanted this place to make it.
I found Max in the barn tossing hay like it had personally insulted him.
“Hey!” I called.
He didn’t stop. “You lose your boots again?”
I glanced down. My boots were, in fact, muddy but intact. “No. I came to tell you my plan.”
Max finally turned, straw clinging to his flannel, that perpetual scowl firmly in place. “Do I want to know?”
“Yes,” I said brightly. “I’m going to host a Christmas festival. Here. On the ranch.”
Max stared. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. We’ll use the big barn for a craft fair, get Sarah to do baked goods, maybe invite that country singer friend of yours—Ethan?”
He dropped the pitchfork with a clatter. “You think a party’s going to save this place?”
“It’s not just a party. It’s a fundraiser. With press, attention, donations. People care more than you think.”
Max crossed his arms, towering and skeptical. “This isn’t a charity case. It’s a working ranch.”
“It’s about to be a failed ranch if we don’t get creative,” I snapped, pulse kicking up. “Unless you’ve got a hidden trust fund?”
He scowled deeper. “No. But I’ve got common sense.”
“That common sense let the barn roof fall in?” I shot back, frustration bubbling. Max’s jaw ticked. His eyes, usually so guarded, flashed.
“Better than running headfirst into a fantasy that’ll get us nowhere but deeper in the red.”
We glared at each other across the barn aisle, breaths fogging in the cold air. The silence stretched so long even Duke looked uncomfortable, pacing between us.
Then, with perfect timing, Duke bounded forward and tried to cut between us—slipping in the water trough runoff and knocking over a metal bucket. It clanged to the ground, water splashing everywhere, and the ridiculousness of it all hit me like a jolt.
I laughed. Loud and unexpected. It echoed through the rafters.
Max blinked. His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but surprise, as if the muscles for smiling had forgotten their way. Then, slowly, barely, the corners of his mouth quirked.
“Did you just smile?” I gasped.
“Must’ve been gas.”
I laughed harder, wiping a tear from my cheek.
Duke barked once and wagged his tail, seemingly proud of himself.
Max shook his head, then grabbed a towel to mop up the mess. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
“Works out, then.”
We worked in silence for a few minutes. And when I handed him the second towel, our fingers brushed. Just briefly. But I felt it—a surprising jolt, like static electricity.
The smile faded from his face, replaced by something thoughtful. Serious.
And then my phone rang.
I dug it from my pocket, glanced at the screen, and felt my stomach drop.
UNKNOWN NUMBER – NYC
I stepped outside and answered.
“Ms. Henderson?” a familiar voice said. “This is Olivia from Mason & Stone. I just wanted to follow up—we need your final answer on the job offer by New Year’s. We’ve got another candidate waiting, but frankly, everyone was rooting for you.”
My throat tightened. “Right. Of course. Thanks for the reminder.”
She hung up with a polite goodbye, and I stood still in the silence, the cold pressing into my bones.
The cold, clear air of the ranch, scented with pine and damp earth, was so different from the city.
Beyond the barn, the land stretched wide and white. A light breeze kicked up powdered snow, swirling it across the yard like glitter shaken from the sky.
Christmas lights blinked on a nearby fence—cheap and half-broken, but somehow… still glowing.
I glanced back at the barn, where Max was still cleaning up the puddle, Duke circling like a guardian.
I thought about the office I’d left behind—polished chrome fixtures, sterile air, heels clacking against tile.
I remembered the breathless subway mornings, the takeout dinners alone in my apartment, the feeling that I was always chasing something I couldn’t name.
And now here I was—boots muddy, confused, standing on a ranch I’d never planned to inherit, arguing with a man I couldn’t seem to ignore.
Two lives. Two versions of me.
And the trouble was… I didn’t know which one I wanted more.