The Christmas Ranch. RaeAnne ThayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
admitted. “You wouldn’t believe the comments I’ve been getting in town.”
Hope decided to press her advantage. “It’s our civic duty to keep it open this year, don’t you agree? Why, it wouldn’t be the holidays in Pine Gulch without The Christmas Ranch.”
“Don’t go overboard,” Faith muttered.
“Please. Just give me the chance. I won’t let you down.”
She could see her sister was wavering. Faith let out a deep sigh just as her niece Louisa skipped into the kitchen.
“Mom, there’s a strange pickup in the driveway. It’s kind of junky,” she said, then stopped when she spotted Hope.
“Aunt Hope! Hi!”
“That’s my junky pickup in the driveway. I’ll move it.”
“What are you doing here?” her niece asked as she gave her a big hug.
“Guess what? She’s going to run The Christmas Ranch!” Barrett exclaimed. “We’re going to open after all!”
“Really?” Louisa exclaimed. “Oh, that would be wonderful!”
“We haven’t decided that yet,” Faith said firmly. “Children, go wash up for dinner and then you can set the table. I’m about to throw the pizza in. Aunt Celeste will be home any minute and we can eat.”
“I’m so glad you’re home,” Louisa said with another hug.
At least a few members of her family were happy to see her. Celeste wasn’t here yet but she and her younger sister had always been close—of course, she thought she and Faith were close, yet her older sister fairly radiated disapproval and frustration.
As soon as the children left the room, Hope suddenly realized her sister wasn’t just frustrated. She was angry.
Hope again felt small and selfish. If she were in Faith’s shoes, she would be furious, too. Her sister was doing her best to keep the family together. She was managing the ranch, taking care of her children, trying to keep everything running while still reeling from her husband’s death.
Now Hope came in and expected to shake everything up and do things her way.
“There is no money, Hope. Do you not get that? You’ll have virtually no operating budget. You’ll barely make enough to pay the salaries for Santa Claus and anybody you hire to work in the gift shop.”
Oh. Right. How was she going to find people to help her in only nine days?
Mary could help line her up with the seasonal employees who had worked at the Ranch in previous years. Surely a few of them might still be looking for work.
“You said it’s been hemorrhaging money. Is it really that bad?”
“People just aren’t coming to holiday attractions like this one much anymore. The only reason we kept it going was because Uncle Claude loved it so and Travis wanted to honor his memory.”
Her sister’s words were sobering.
“You’ve always been enthusiastic about things, Hope. It’s one of the best things about you. You jump right in and try to fix things. But you can’t fix this. The Christmas Ranch is a losing proposition. We just can’t afford it anymore. There’s no money. We’re holding on by our fingernails as it is. If things don’t pick up, we’re going to have to sell off part of the cattle herd and possibly some of the pasture land along the creek. Wade Dalton made us a more than fair offer and Mary and I are seriously considering it.”
“Oh, Faith. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t know the whole picture either, until after Travis died. He was very good at putting on a cheerful face.”
Faith was quiet for a moment, then walked around the island. “I should probably tell you, I had a very respectable offer for the reindeer. A guy with a petting zoo in Pocatello. We’ve talked about it and were planning to take that, too. He was interested in taking them before the holidays.”
The small herd of reindeer had been part of the ranch as long as she had lived here. They were part of the family, as far as Hope was concerned.
“Sell the reindeer?”
“I know,” Mary piped in. “It breaks my heart too.”
“Did you sign any papers?”
“No, but...”
“Don’t. Please, Faith. Wait until after Christmas. Give me this season to prove I can turn things around. I know I can do it. I am going to make money with The Christmas Ranch this year, enough to tide the Star N over the rest of the year. You’ll see.”
Her sister sighed. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”
“Maybe not, but that could be a good thing, right? Ignorance is bliss, and all that.”
“Oh, Hope. You always could talk me into anything.”
Mary gave a short laugh. “That’s my girls!”
Relief and excitement and no small amount of nerves washed over Hope like an avalanche. “You won’t be sorry. This is going to be our best year ever, I promise.”
She had no idea how she would keep that promise but she intended to try.
He was so not cut out for this.
Rafe tried to scrape up the burned bits of the red sauce from the bottom of the saucepan with a wooden spoon but that only mixed the blackened remains into the rest of the mix.
Apparently he would now have to open a bottle of store-bought spaghetti sauce, which is what he should have done in the first place instead of hunting down ingredients then measuring, pouring and mixing for the past fifteen minutes.
Joey wouldn’t care if his spaghetti sauce came from a jar. He probably wouldn’t even be able to taste the difference.
Rafe headed to the sink and poured the concoction down the sink. There went twenty minutes of his life he wouldn’t get back.
Rafe didn’t mind cooking. He really didn’t. Okay, he didn’t mind grilling. Apparently there was a difference between throwing a couple of steaks on the old Char-Broil and concocting something nutritious that a seven-year-old kid would actually eat.
He had decided they couldn’t live on brats, burgers and take-out alone so had decided to try his hand at a few other things—including spaghetti, which Joey had admitted was one of his favorites.
Now his nephew was due home from his playdate in a half hour and Rafe would have to start over.
Playdates were yet another activity that seemed completely out of his understanding. Give him a terrorist cell and a clear-cut objective to take them out and he could kick some serious ass but apparently he wasn’t capable of navigating the complicated politics of playdates—who was allowed to play where, whose turn it was to host, which friends weren’t allowed to come over on certain days of the week and which couldn’t play at all until their homework was finished.
Truth to tell, the whole parenting thing from soup to nuts scared the he—er, heck out of him. What did he know about seven-year-old boys? He could barely remember even being one.
He would just have to figure things out. His nephew needed him and he couldn’t let him down like he had Cami.
He couldn’t let the kid go into foster care. He and his sister had gone the rounds with that, being bounced around between their grandmother, their aunt and finally foster care after their mother’s death.
Sure, there were really good foster families out there. They had been lucky enough to have placement