Page 24 of Christmas at the Ranch
“I don’t ride anymore,” Beatrix was saying. She paused to take a ladylike sip of her cocktail. “Ever since my last horse, Gooseberry, died, I can’t bring myself to get on a horse.” Her perfect features were suddenly clouded with emotion. “We were together for so long; I’d feel as if I was betraying him.”
Samantha breathed a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have to worry about running into Beatrix in the barn.
“You’ll change your mind next summer when we all go riding.” Arthur smiled at Beatrix. “Nothing makes you feel more fit than a day spent on horseback.”
Drew appeared from the hallway. He held two champagne bottles and he looked handsome in a navy blazer and white shirt.
“There you are,” Arthur said, beaming. “I hope you picked the best champagne. It’s Christmas, and there’s so much to be grateful for.”
Arthur looked happier than he had since Samantha arrived. She felt a small tug at her heart. No wonder Drew felt guilty. Arthur was obviously very fond of Beatrix.
“Beatrix was telling me about her new project, now that you’re both back in New York.” Arthur addressed Drew. “I’m impressed, I may have to put a little money behind it myself.”
“It’s early stages yet. But I’m already in talks with a factory in Thailand, and I’m looking at a small retail space in lower Manhattan,” Beatrix said modestly. “I’m going to manufacture sustainably made handbags. All the workers at the factory will get a livingwage and a percentage of the profits will go to assist Thai rice farmers. Did you know that with climate change, the farmers have to radically alter the way they grow rice? I got the idea when Drew and I were living in the village near Chiang Mai. There’s no point in building schools if the parents can’t afford to keep the children there. I haven’t thought of a name for the company yet.” Beatrix turned to Samantha. “You must be creative. Maybe you can come up with one.”
Samantha flushed. She was trying to process Beatrix’s idea. It was quite brilliant. Like when Sloane Parker stopped Hans Becker from stealing ten million dollars’ worth of gold from a gold mine in Mongolia. First, Sloane made Hans distribute a million dollars’ worth of gold among the miners, then she turned the rest over to the Mongolian government. Mongolia had oodles of gold; the government wouldn’t miss a few gold bricks. And the miners were grossly underpaid.
“Samantha is an author,” Drew cut in. “She doesn’t name brands.”
“Arthur was telling me about the Sloane Parker books,” Beatrix purred. “I’ll have to read one. I mostly read biographies and memoirs. They’re so inspiring.”
Arthur took Beatrix to meet the other guests. Drew turned to Samantha.
“Beatrix didn’t tell me she was coming. She just appeared.”
Samantha tried to think of something to say.
“She’s very beautiful,” she said awkwardly. “You must be happy she’s here.”
Drew fiddled with his drink. “About the Christmas parade tonight—”
“Don’t worry about me,” Samantha cut in. Her face broke into a smile. “I’ll probably drink too much champagne to go anyway. Suddenly, I’m very thirsty.”
Samantha was relieved to be seated at the opposite end of the table from Drew and Beatrix. On her right was a woman in her forties named Gladys whose ten-year-old daughter was a budding author. Gladys’s husband was an old fraternity brother of Arthur’s and this was their first trip to Jackson Hole.
“Audrey’s teacher says she has real talent,” Gladys said to Samantha over a forkful of glazed ham. “Perhaps I could e-mail you her latest story. Audrey would love to get a professional opinion.”
Arthur stood up before Samantha could answer. An open bottle of champagne stood in front of him.
“I’m thrilled you could all be in Jackson Hole this week,” he began. “You’ve all been to enough of my house parties to know that the only drawback of coming is having to listen to my after-dinner speeches.”
Everyone laughed and Arthur waited to continue.
“Tonight’s speech might be even more grueling because you have to listen to me boast.” He turned to Drew. “What father wouldn’t make a fuss about his son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law back in New York at last. Men build their businesses for a number of reasons. Some want wealth, others are hungry for power, a few have wives who don’t want them puttering around the house.” Arthur paused among more laughter. “I’ve always had two goals: to share the joy of reading with as many people as possible, and to have something to pass on to my son.” He raised his champagne glass. “The date and location of the wedding are up to the bride and groom,but I wanted to give them a special engagement present. What better time to announce it than at Christmastime, surrounded by friends?”
Samantha glanced at Drew. Drew’s cheeks were pale and he was gripping his wineglass uncomfortably.
“Drew and Beatrix,” Arthur said, nodding at them. “For the last five years, you’ve been crisscrossing the globe, making the world a better place. But even young love needs roots to flourish. I’m giving you my house in Connecticut. I hope it will be the scene of many happy occasions like this one. And don’t worry about preparing a guest room for me.” There was a twinkle in his eyes. “I already started moving my things into the apartment above the garage.”
There were gasps around the table. Samantha knew from Charlie that the Connecticut house had won some kind of industry award for being completely green. It was decorated by a well-known designer and featured inFine Homesmagazine.
Beatrix jumped up and kissed Arthur briefly on the cheek. Drew shook his father’s hand and gave him an awkward hug.
Samantha tried to concentrate on the conversation around her, but she couldn’t help glancing at Drew. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His head was down and he was pushing his mashed potatoes around his plate.
“Arthur says you’re a writer,” the woman across from her was saying. “I have this wonderful idea for a book. I know it would be a huge bestseller,” she gushed to Samantha. “Perhaps we could discuss it over coffee.”
Samantha pulled her eyes back to her plate. She wished more than anything she was in her own apartment. Socks would be nuzzling his Rudolph plush toy and “Last Christmas” would be playing on Spotify. But Arthur was the reason she was a publishedauthor and these people were his guests. If she wanted to afford her Spotify subscription and Socks’s monthly order of extreme chew toys, she had to be polite.
