Chapter 2 #2
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nick wanted to pretend Christmas didn’t exist—not spend it on the picturesque Sinclair family farm.
Besides, being alone in his Cleveland apartment would give him the opportunity to spend his days off tweaking his nonprofit proposal.
There were so many stages to incorporate, the biggest being acquiring the actual property and getting it bunk-ready for multiple teens.
There were also other things he wanted to eventually include on the property, such as therapy dogs and horses, and a basketball court to properly channel aggression.
Once he got all the details typed out, then he’d be ready for the Sinclairs—or anyone else who might want to contribute toward helping troubled youth find their way.
Ryan pressed harder. “It’ll be low-key, I promise. None of my siblings can make it, except my sister Holly. You met her once, last year.”
Red hair and beautiful green eyes flickered in Nick’s mind.
“Remember, when she surprised me for lunch that day she came through town?”
He remembered.
“Look, I’ll be honest. Holly’s bummed out. She just got laid off, and she’s single. She pretends like she’s not lonely, but I know she’s got to be, in Detroit by herself.” Ryan stopped his rambling long enough to draw a breath. “If you come home with me, it’ll solve two problems.”
Nick sighed. “Which are?”
“Giving you somewhere to go for Christmas…and cheering up my sister.”
Nick frowned. “How will the presence of a near stranger cheer up Holly?”
“Because if you come it could be…” Ryan coughed into his elbow, the rest of his sentence morphing into the garbled sound.
Nick tilted his head. “One more time? Without the loogie?”
Ryan released a resigned breath. “If you come, you could be a date for Holly.”
Nick blinked up at him. Once, twice. But neither the speakers blaring Feliz Navidad nor Ryan’s sheepish, pleading expression changed.
Then Ryan’s face brightened. “She hates Christmas too, man. It’s perfect!”
“Sure. Two people with holiday trauma. Talk about a match made in heaven.” Nick rolled his eyes. “Hard pass.” He hadn’t dated in a while, and honestly, until he got his nonprofit off the ground, he didn’t have any business distracting himself. First things first.
“Look, my mom throws this big holiday block party. Holly always gets picked on at these things, and this year will be the worst for her.”
A twinge of compassion flicked his heart like a guitar string. But…no. Holly seemed nice, but this wasn’t his problem to solve. He had too many others as it was.
Ryan squinted. “Promise to at least think about it?”
“I promise to think about varying creative ways to keeping saying no.” Nick’s cell buzzed in his pocket as he turned back to his monitor. “No. Non. Nein. Nee. ” He pulled the phone free and checked the display.
Grace Sinclair.
He kept the screen shielded from his friend. “Sorry, bro, I’ve got to take this.”
“Fine, fine.” Ryan backed out of his workstation. “But until I hear a no in Klingon, I’m going to assume you’re still thinking about it.”
Nick waited until Ryan was several desks away, then accepted the call. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Hello, Nick.” The woman’s warm, motherly tone startled him as much as it had the other two times they’d spoken. Definitely opposite from what he’d known growing up. No wonder Ryan was so well-adjusted. “I just wanted to check back in and see if you were following request number one.”
“Praying? Yes, ma’am.” Nick probably prayed more about starting his nonprofit than he did anything else—mostly because he figured the Lord wouldn’t mind hearing about something unselfish.
“That’s great to hear.” She cleared her throat. “And I trust you’re keeping this conversation confidential?”
He dipped his head. “Of course.”
“We feel this idea to start a teen camp is something special. I thought it only fair to give you a more specific heads-up of what Thomas and I have been discussing.”
Nick’s heart accelerated. “Oh?” Maybe they planned to contribute more than Nick requested.
Based on research, he’d divided up the amount he needed to get started into sizable portions, looking for donors and sponsors to reach those smaller, individual goals.
But maybe the Sinclairs had been praying about doing a double portion.
Hope shimmied in his gut. Could this ranch actually be happening? Could his career in marketing finally be nearing an end?
“We’re praying about not only contributing to your cause, but helping you find the property too.”
Nick leaned back, confused. “Um, sure. That’d be great.” He’d figured once he had the start-up funds, he’d use a real-estate agent to seek out the ideal location. Right now, he wasn’t anywhere near ready for that step. Still, it was a nice offer.
“I don’t think I phrased that well.” Grace sighed. “Thomas is always telling me my communication is lacking.”
Nick opened his mouth, unsure how to respond.
“What I’m trying to say, quite poorly, is that Thomas and I are considering moving when he retires after the New Year. We might be able to sell you our farm—for a song, of course.”
He shut his mouth with a snap.
“We’ve been blessed with a paid-off property these last several years, and we made a decent bit of royalties from an oil and gas lease on the land, and, anyway…” She paused, as if flicking away the details. “We’re set up now to retire and we’d love to pass that blessing forward.”
Wow. Nick cleared his throat. “That’s very generous, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“We really don’t want you to share any of this with Ryan.
Until we’re certain—all of us involved—that our property is a good fit for you and your vision, we don’t want our kids to know we’re thinking of selling their childhood home and running off to Florida.
” She let loose a nervous chuckle. “Especially right here at Christmas.”
“That’s…” Nick swallowed. The hope that had shimmied moments ago had broken into a full-out conga line. “That’s so generous, Mrs. Sinclair. I don’t know what to say.”
“I’ve been racking my brain for a way to get you out here to view the property without Ryan being suspicious.” Like her son, Mrs. Sinclair’s voice pitched higher when she was obviously nervous. “But so far, I haven’t come up with anything.”
“I’m sure after the holidays we can figure out—”
The holidays.
His heart leapt into an even faster rhythm.
This was perfect. Sure, it meant he had to do Christmas on the ranch with Ryan’s parents—and Holly—but it would just be for a week or so, right?
Besides, hadn’t Ryan said it would be low-key out there?
He couldn’t pass up the chance to progress on his dream.
He might be one Christmas away from never having to design another holiday ad again.
“You won’t believe this, Mrs. Sinclair, but your son just invited me to come home with him and Lydia for Christmas.” Nick lowered his voice, keeping one eye on Ryan’s headphone-covered scalp across the room.
“Oh, that’s perfect!” Grace’s voice warmed again like fresh coffee. “What are the odds? Must be a God thing.”
“Maybe so.” He wasn’t sure how that worked, but the coincidence was definitely something to consider.
“Well, we’d love to have you, and this way, we can get to know you and your vision a little better. We can make sure this is a right fit for everyone.” Her voice wavered a little. “Just remember, Ryan can’t know. None of the kids can.”
Might be a little tricky, but doable. Besides, their reason made sense. “I understand.”
After they’d hung up with the promise to see each other in a few days, Nick picked up his landline. He hesitated a moment before punching in Ryan’s extension.
It rang twice before Ryan answered. “Dude, if you’re about to say ghobe’, you’re definitely going to pronounce it wrong.”
Nick smirked. “Hang on.” He pulled up a search engine and hit a few keys to google Klingon. “What about Hija’ instead?”
“Wait. What?” Ryan let out a whoop. “ Yes! ”
Looked like Nick was going to Point Bluff for Christmas.