Page 39 of Christmas at the Ranch
Samantha tried to see something of Beatrix in the photo. It looked nothing like her.
“What about the gymkhanas and training for the winter Olympics?” Samantha asked, puzzled.
“Those were ways to become good at something my parents would approve of. None of them stuck,” Beatrix sighed. “You and I are more similar than you think. I always loved writing, I wanted to major in journalism. I was going to be a war reporter—huddling in a foxhole to get as close to the story as possible. My parents wouldn’t allow it. They said I could be anything I wanted as long as it was practical. So, I became a business major instead.” Beatrix was thoughtful. “They were right in a way. Being a war reporter sounded exciting at the time. With a business degree I can build something of my own that helps others. There are so many people who need help out there, not just in war zones but everywhere. And I could have a family at the same time.”
Samantha tried to picture Beatrix as a plain, insecure teenager. It seemed as unlikely as discovering that Socks came from a line of championship show dogs. But there was something about Beatrix that was too glossy.
Beatrix was so determined. Samantha was running out of ways to dissuade her.
“You don’t have a wedding dress,” Samantha urged. “Every bride deserves the dress of her dreams.”
“My ankle is almost better, we’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Beatrix said eagerly. “We’ll buy a maid of honor dress for you, and cowboy hats for Drew and Arthur.”
“You have to discuss it with Drew first,” Samantha said logically. “You can’t just announce that you’re getting married.”
“We’re engaged, and you said Drew wanted a family.” Beatrix waved the large diamond on her finger. “We’ll tell everyone at dinner tonight. Arthur will be thrilled, he’s so proud of the ranch. The wedding will be our Christmas present to him.”
Arthur would be thrilled. The only person who might not be happy was Drew.
Samantha sighed miserably. This was all her fault.
“Let’s start planning the menu.” Beatrix flipped open her laptop. “Bison of course, and there’s a bakery in town. We can get one of those flaming cakes and maybe a cupcake tree.”
A half hour later, Samantha was curled up on her bed and clicking through photos of Socks. She should be dressing for dinner, but she needed to do something comforting. If she was home, she’d heat up a bowl of noodles and sit on the sofa. Socks would jump in her lap and she’d tell him her problems.
There was no one at the ranch she could confide in. It had been easier when Beatrix seemed a grown-up Barbie doll come to life. This new Beatrix, with her past anguishes and future hopes and dreams, was much harder to dislike.
Beatrix was right: they were similar. Not in Beatrix’s Wonder Woman figure and masses of blond hair, or her desire to be a war correspondent. Samantha never even considered writing a Sloane Parker book set in a war zone. The photos online of bombs ripping up residential neighborhoods and children with torn clothes running into the street were too heart-wrenching. She preferred writing about Sloane fighting the enemy from the helm of a sleek speedboat, or dropping out of a helicopter onto the deck of a luxury yacht.
But she and Beatrix wanted the same things: to build somethingof their own, and have love and a family. That didn’t change Samantha’s dilemma. She couldn’t be the maid of honor when they’d just met, and when the groom was unsure about having a wedding. There was also the small detail that she believed she was falling for the groom herself.
Her phone buzzed and she answered.
“Samantha.” Her mother’s voice came down the line. “I’m glad I caught you. We’re in Liechtenstein, it’s a tiny country tucked between Austria and Switzerland. It has one of the highest wealth per capita in the world and it’s still ruled by the royal family.”
“Since when did you care about a country’s wealth?” Samantha said with a smile. It felt good to have her mother on the other end of the phone.
“I always research a country’s history. The most amazing thing happened.” Her mother kept talking. “I posted a photo of your father and me in front of the royal palace and captioned it: ‘You don’t need to be royalty to enjoy Christmas holidays in Vaduz,’” she clucked. “The department of tourism reposted it and it’s the most commented post on their site.” She paused. “Apparently now we’re influencers. We received a call from Prince Hans-Adam’s personal secretary inviting us to a Christmas ball at the palace.”
“You’re going to a ball with the prince of Liechtenstein?” Samantha’s jaw dropped.
“Heads of state from all over the world fly in for the ball. There’s a private performance ofThe Nutcrackerand the prince gives all the guests presents. Then everyone drinks champagne and takes to the dance floor.” Her voice practically vibrated with excitement. “What if the prime minister of Canada is there and asks me to dance? I might faint.”
Samantha’s mother had a crush on Prime Minister JustinTrudeau ever since she learned he had been a schoolteacher twenty years ago after he graduated from university. Samantha had to admit he was good-looking, with that mop of dark hair and sexy smile.
“You’ll probably teach him a step or two,” Samantha chuckled. “You’ve always been a good dancer.”
“It’s all about listening to the rhythm,” her mother reflected. “Enough about us. I want to hear all about your holiday.”
Samantha sighed. She fiddled with a pillow.
“There might actually be a wedding at the ranch on New Year’s Eve.”
“How romantic! I’ve always loved winter weddings,” her mother gushed. “The wedding party always looks so elegant in photos with snow in the background. I bet you’ll catch the bridal bouquet,” she said encouragingly. “Your turn is coming soon.”
“I haven’t even met anyone, I’m hardly getting married,” Samantha replied.
“You never know what life brings,” her mother countered. “Who would have guessed that your father and I would celebrate the Christmas season in a proper castle with pages and footmen? Wait till I post the photos on Instagram, your aunt Phyllis won’t believe it.”
