A Heartfelt Christmas Promise Read online

  “Yeah, but I can’t let you do that. It’s my responsi—”

  “Why not? I offered. My favorite girl.”

  “Your only girl.”

  “Go. Have fun.”

  She eyed him curiously. “There’s a roast in the Crock-Pot.”

  “I know. I might have already snagged a nibble.”

  “Like you always do?” She pointed an accusing finger in his direction.

  “Yeah, but I can fend for myself.”

  “You’ll eat cereal.”

  “I happen to like cereal. Now quit back-talking me, and get on out of here and have some fun.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Zack is finishing up in the barn. He’ll help me.”

  “Thank you, Daddy!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re the best.” She ran to the side of the arena, climbed the fence, and then disappeared around the barn toward the house.

  Zack was a good kid, and he’d learned fast. When he came looking for a job, he didn’t know a darn thing about horses or barn upkeep. He was from the next town over and was desperate for work when he’d seen the posting for help at the feed and seed store. The kid could carry big bags of feed with no problem. When Mike learned that Zack had been kicked out of his parents’ house for dropping out of school, he’d offered him the job with one condition. That he graduate that summer. He’d get a paycheck and a place to live in the old trailer on the back of the property.

  Zack turned out to be a great hire. He studied and worked twice as hard as anyone Mike had ever had work for him. He was lucky to have Zack working for him, but he also knew one of these days he would find a girl, have kids of his own, and probably move on. Chances were that little place Mike and Olivia had lived in while Mike built the house wouldn’t be a young couple’s dream house for long these days.

  The thought of this farm without Misty or Zack around brought back an unwelcome feeling. The same one that had practically crippled him when he’d lost Olivia.

  He sucked in a deep breath, pushing those thoughts away. He got down to work unhitching the team. Patting the front left horse, he unfastened the hold-back straps and then unbuckled all the girth straps, moving through the process with barely a second thought, he’d done it so many times.

  “Good boy,” he muttered as he moved quickly. These horses knew exactly how many steps it took to unhitch, not even attempting to move until given the signal. He worked silently, removing the gear, putting it away, and brushing down the horses before turning them out to cool down.

  Zack came through the gate. “All done inside. Got the puppies all back in the stall with their momma. That little Scooter pup seems to be getting stronger every day.”

  “Thanks for keeping an eye on that little guy. I thought you and Misty were going to need a miracle to get him on his feet, but he’s doing pretty good.”

  “Me too, but Rein is paying attention to him now.”

  “That’s great,” said Mike. Rein, his black Lab, was a good mother. “She’s had several litters over the years. She knows when something isn’t right before we do. That she’s taken the pup back in is a big step forward.”

  “I was hoping that was the case. Let me help you with the horses.” Zack reached up and removed the harness from the next horse and set it in the wagon.

  “Thanks. You can brush this one down, then turn him out.” Mike handed off the horse he’d just unhitched to Zack.

  Zack walked the horse to the side of the arena, tying him to the post with his name on it. “I heard Misty leave in the dually.”

  “I told her she could go to the football game tonight,” Mike said. “She needs more than these horses in her life. At least that’s what the women in this town keep telling me.”

  “I don’t think she has any complaints.”

  “I hope not. We have such a good routine keeping things going around here, but I need to be sure she has some balance.”

  “She’s such an asset with all her competition wins. The number of parade invites seems to really have picked up.”

  “It has,” Mike agreed. “You’ve become a great asset too, Zack.”

  “Thanks for giving me the chance. I told you I’d never let you down.”

  “A man is only as good as his word. I had no worries.”

  “Misty is a horse person to the core,” Zack said. “I don’t think you have to worry about her, but then what do I know?”

  “Sometimes I think she’s more worried about me than I am about her. She needs to be a teenager too. I know they’re right about that part.”

  “Guess you’re right. Having kids seems like a lot to worry about.”

  Mike laughed. “It’s worth it.”

  Can’t stop them from growing up.

  “Miss Lilene dropped off the final details on the Christmas parade for next week,” Zack said. “I put the envelope on your desk in the barn office.”

  “Good. I can’t believe Thanksgiving is next Thursday. Somehow it doesn’t seem like Christmas should already be here again, but here we are planning to give Santa a ride.”

  “Yeah and instead of eight tiny reindeer, he’ll have six huge horses pulling him from town.”

  “Better than reindeer. No flying, though,” Mike teased.

  “It would take some mighty big wings to get these horses off the ground.”

  “Oh yeah, but they have more power than flying reindeer, so Santa can carry bigger toys.”

  “Good, because I was kind of hoping for a four-wheeler for Christmas this year.”

  “It could happen.” Mike might even grant that wish himself.

  “Misty said she’s going to be riding next to you in the Christmas parade.”

  “Partially true. She’ll be driving the wagon, and I’ll be riding next to her.”

  “No one would believe that a teenage girl the size of her could handle these giants.” He curled a set of reins. “Multiple sets of these at once? That’s not for the weak.”

  “No, it’s not.” If he could be grateful for anything it was that his baby girl could take care of herself.

  Even with Zack’s help it was after eight by the time Mike got back in the house.

  He showered, letting the hot water hit his tired and aching muscles until it ran cool. He toweled off and changed into a pair of sweatpants, then padded barefoot into the kitchen to serve up a huge bowl of pot roast for himself.

  He settled on the couch and turned the television to the Western Channel. He’d never been one to sit and watch hours of sports on television, but this channel held his attention. Before the episode of Maverick was over, he’d put away a second helping of dinner and stretched out on the couch.

  The rumbling diesel of the Ford F-450 woke him. He glanced at the clock. Only nine thirty. He must have been more tired than he’d realized. He sat up and put his feet on the floor.

  Misty burst through the front door. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hey. How was the game?”

  “We were winning by a mile when I left.” She peered around the corner to see what he was watching. “Lonesome Dove? We love this movie. Can I watch?”

  “Yes—wait, no. It’s a school night. I can’t keep football nights straight now that y’all play on Thursdays.”

  “Thursday-night ball games are stupid. I liked Fridays better.”

  “I’m sure they had a good reason. You’ve got school tomorrow,” he said. “Better get in bed, and get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got it on DVR anyway.”

  “True.” She walked over and gave him a hug. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  He leaned back on the couch. With Misty getting older, he wondered what it might be like to share his home with someone else. It was too quiet in this house when Misty wasn’t around.

  The problem was, he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Olivia. Still. Besides, he knew all the women in this town, and they were friends. Nothing more than that.

  He picked up the remote a
nd flipped over to the local news channel. The weather was already taking a turn toward winter.

  Time to pull out the long johns from the cedar chest at the end of the bed.

  With the cooler temperatures, a big pot of soup was always a welcome meal around here. He got up and cleaned up the pots and pans from dinner, then sliced the leftover pot roast into chunks and tossed them into the Crock-Pot. As he chopped celery, carrots, and russet potatoes, the colors started looking like a vibrant fall day. He poured in a large container of beef stock, a can of tomato paste, then gave everything a good stir.

  He loved cooking for Misty, although she’d become a better cook than him recently. While dicing an onion to add to the soup, his eyes teared, and he couldn’t deny that it might not just be the onion, but the fact that his little girl was growing up so fast. These next couple of years were going to fly by.

  A few spices and the onion made a hearty-looking meal. He placed the Crock-Pot in the refrigerator. In the morning he’d turn it on low and let it simmer all day. There’d be plenty enough for Zack to take some home too.

  He put his boots back on and walked outside to the barn to get the paperwork Lilene had dropped off.

  In the distance a coyote howled. Bad news for most livestock owners. He was glad his horses and those pups were kept safe inside each night.

  Gripping the handle on the wide barn door, he slid it across the heavy rails.

  The sweet smell of hay never got old. The horses shifted in their stalls, their giant horseshoe-clad feet tapping with curiosity. Ben, the alpha in the herd, nickered and then let out a deep fluttering breath through his nostrils, letting the others know there was no reason to be concerned.

  If only people were as easy to deal with as these horses.

  These sounds felt like home to Mike. He picked up the papers that Zack had left on his desk, then took a peek in on Rein and did a quick head count on her litter. All present and accounted for … for a change. The little yellow troublemaker was snuggled at the very edge of the puddle of black puppies. His head and neck sprawled over the legs of one of the others.

  He dimmed the lights and walked outside. The distinctive call of the barred owl that lived in a tree just beyond the barn filled the night. Mike had only caught a glimpse of him once. His wingspan had been easily every bit of three feet wide. There were others. He’d heard them, but had never seen them.

  Mike slid the door closed and strolled back toward the house, enjoying the calls of nature. Something scurried in the dirt behind him. He swung around. Scooter sat down on his haunches.

  “Caught you. How did you get out without me seeing you?”

  The puppy danced in a circle and then lifted his paw and patted at Mike’s pant leg.

  “You’re too cute for your own good. And too little to be out here. Do you want to end up an owl feast?” He swept the puppy into his arms. He had half a mind to bring him into the house for the night, but once you gave in there was no undoing it.

  He took the puppy back to the barn and, rather than put him in the stall, scooted him inside the door and closed him in.

  In the distance, all the lights in Zack’s trailer went out.

  A high-pitched bark from the barn broke the silence, but quickly quieted down following a grunt and sigh. He could picture Scooter flopping on the cool floor of the barn in dramatic defeat.

  It shouldn’t take but a couple more weeks for all of those puppies to be ready to move to their forever homes. Three had already been spoken for.

  Mike went to the house. Warmth washed over him as he walked back inside. He sat down and opened the envelope from Lilene containing the parade maps. On the top of the first page there was a sticky note in Lilene’s writing inviting he and Misty to dinner on Thanksgiving. If not dinner, then at least dessert at four.

  Lilene had been his mom’s best friend for as long as he could remember. The ladies of this town had always been so good to him and Misty. He was very thankful for their help, and there was no reason to turn her down. She always fed a crowd, and made great food. As had become tradition, he’d make a batch of fresh deviled eggs to take over. Those six laying hens of his, Henny, Penny, Jenny, Oprah Henfrey, Sophia Lor-Hen, and Eggatha Christie, kept Mike in more than enough brown eggs for all of his friends and neighbors.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It had been one long day, and Vanessa was glad to just go to bed and be done with it.

  She rubbed lotion between her hands, then smoothed it along her arms and legs before drawing back the white sheets to snuggle with her laptop and the Porter’s files for a little nighttime reading.

  This ought to put me to sleep.

  She read through the dashboard, and the summary page of the most recent P and L. Surprisingly, Porter’s wasn’t in that bad a standing. In fact, if it weren’t for the outrageous size of their footprint they were calculating the profit against, they’d be in really good shape. They turned a decent profit, considering the number of employees. And if you rolled in the fact that they were producing fruitcake, it was an amazing amount of revenue. A surprise, because really who intentionally bought fruitcake? She’d always thought of the bricklike concoction as a gag gift. But how many gag gifts can you sell to the same customers year after year? Eventually the humor in that wears off.

  The turnover of employees was almost nonexistent. She’d wondered if the small town would be able to handle a larger workforce. If they could reskill some of the staff, then there shouldn’t be much of a problem.

  She tried to remember all the talk about this buyout when it happened. It had been a while back. She flipped through the past few years’ numbers. They’d been consistent. The box indicating that the venture was initiated by the customer was checked. She wondered what had made Porter’s approach AGC in the first place. Financially, they’d been pretty strong. At least on paper. Of course, things weren’t always as they seemed on paper.

  She flipped to the contract and terms. AGC paid handsomely for Porter’s. Micky was usually good at negotiations, known for practically stealing companies, but this had been a very fair deal for Porter’s, which made her more interested in seeing this for herself.

  It wasn’t a typical AGC buy. She couldn’t find anything in the file explaining the motivation for the original purchase. Then again … it was fruitcake.

  How does someone decide to open a fruitcake factory in the first place?

  She was pretty certain she’d never even tried the only cake with a bad reputation, but the thought of the dense, sticky cake made her stomach go all queasy. Do I really need to try fruitcake to know I’m not a fan?

  She put the paperwork aside and shook her head. No. She would make it through the next five weeks without even a nibble. She hoped it at least smelled good in the factory.

  Kendra had already sent her a new project template. As they continued to refine the tool for each project, she made the plan even more robust based on lessons learned.

  When Vanessa opened the template, she smiled. Kendra had even updated the colors to a Christmas theme.

  Basically, she had five weeks to shut down the factory and clear out the warehouse space. They could probably run the excess inventory through the storefront through middle to late January if needed, since that wasn’t needed for the transition.

  She made clearing the warehouse space the priority, and filled in some of the preliminary assessments she’d need to complete next week.

  A second email from Kendra included the building layout and inventory of the factory.

  It didn’t look like there was much big equipment to clear. The ovens were all commercial, but not huge. The number of pieces to auction or sell off wasn’t that great either. Probably a one-day sale, if properly advertised, would do the trick.

  Of course, those pieces would sell low. They always did. Someone would be having a merry Christmas even if it wasn’t the people in Fraser Hills.

  She dimmed her bedside lamp and slunk beneath the covers praying the next big
project was going to be amazing, because this job was not going to leave her joyful. One more “paying my dues” project.

  But there was that bonus, and she could already picture herself in her dream house. She picked up her phone and called Sally. Her heart fluttered in excitement as she told her she’d be interested in that house if they could stall until after the holidays. Sally seemed to think they could buy a little time.

  Euphoria replaced her bitterness about the Fraser Hills project. At least it would be good for something. Now to hope and pray that no one else was shopping for a house like that one, and then break it to Anna that the big Christmas assignment was in North Carolina … not Paris. What a disappointment.

  She took her arms out from under the covers, then let out a long slow breath and laid her arms by her sides, trying to relax.

  Don’t stress. Get in. Do the job. Get out. The quicker the better. Relax.

  And Anna will be there. It’s going to be fine.

  * * *

  Friday morning Vanessa hit the gym feeling better about the Fraser Hills assignment, and that her dream was now within reach because of it. Almost guaranteed.

  She pounded out mile after mile on the treadmill; her ponytail swept across her back as she ramped up into a high-intensity interval, staring out the window that faced the busy street below. She’d grown oblivious to the traffic and the hustle of the people below on the sidewalk.

  Call Sally to make an offer or wait? It was a gamble. If she called today, she’d be rewarding Sally’s bad behavior for showing her a house over her budget. But if she didn’t call, someone could sweep her dream house right out from under her.

  Only the truth of the situation was, she was going to have to trust that the right thing would happen and wait until she got to North Carolina and got down to work on that project. For two reasons really. If she couldn’t pull off the shutdown and ready the warehouse space on time, there’d be no bonus. And if she put in a successful bid on her dream house too early, she’d be up to her ears in mortgage paperwork, and she didn’t have time to be dragging out old tax returns and statements while working on the Porter’s project. It would be too big a distraction. And today her priority was packing and preparing to get out of Chicago and be on site in Fraser Hills by Monday.