Page 7 of Christmas at the Ranch
“It’s all right,” Drew assured her. “Airplanes were designed to dip up and down. It’s perfectly safe.”
Samantha was about to protest when the mild shaking resembled a full-scale earthquake. She was reminded why she flatly refused a producer’s invitation to come to Hollywood and talk about a movie option. Charlie had been furious. Samantha pointed out that Zoom worked just as well. In the end, the producer came to New York and they all had dinner at Sushi Yasuda in Midtown. The producer turned out to be just some twenty-year-old kid with unlimited access to his father’s credit card. But it had been fun to hear him name-drop and Sushi Yasuda’s fatty tuna was delicious.
Then the plane began to roll and even Drew was quiet. Samantha kept her eyes shut and counted the things she was grateful for: Her mother introducing her to Nancy Drew books; Nancy Drew was still the smartest private investigator ever. The episodes ofGossip Girlshe watched in high school that provided tantalizing glimpses of Manhattan. Her fuzzy socks that she bought with her first royalty check. Charlie had encouraged her to buy something meaningful—jewelry or a piece of art. But there was nothing more important than having warm feet while she was writing her next book.
The plane did one final dip and Samantha let out a gasp. Suddenly they were on the ground, and the lights in the cabin flickered on.
“We landed,” she gasped, peering out the window.
“That usually happens at the end of a flight,” Drew said pleasantly. “Are you okay? You were mumbling something about Blair and Serena.”
Samantha wasn’t going to admit she was reliving theGossip GirlChristmas episode.
“I was thinking up names for characters,” she said instead. Relief flooded through her and she felt almost giddy. “I didn’t know we were about to land.”
“It always gets turbulent near the mountains,” he offered. He handed her a napkin. “You made it all in one piece. Besides the Kahlúa moustache, but that’s easily fixed.”
Samantha dabbed her mouth. She pulled her carry-on from beneath the seat and waited for the doors to open.
It was one of those airports where you had to walk outside before you reached the terminal. For a moment, Samantha allowed herself to take it all in. The air was fresh and clean, like nothing she knew in New York. The whole mountain was alive with Christmas lights and the sky was such a dark velvet, it resembled the most luxurious black cocktail dress.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said out loud.
“Wait until you see it during the daytime.” Drew was standing behind her. “The Teton mountains are the most breathtaking in the American west.”
Then someone pushed her and Samantha was afraid she’d slip on the cement. She followed the other passengers into the terminal. It was surprisingly modern, with framed posters of men and women wearing cowboy hats and boots.
“Would you like a ride somewhere?” Drew offered.
She had to find a bathroom. The spot hadn’t come out, and she couldn’t arrive at Arthur’s with a Kahlúa stain on her blouse. And Drew was very polite, but he was a stranger. Even Sloane Parker knew better than to accept a ride from a man who hadn’t been vetted by British Intelligence.
“No, thank you.” She shook her head and held out her hand.“You’ve been very kind. I wouldn’t have survived the flight without your help.”
He smiled and it resembled what she imagined Sloane’s love interest in the book set in Australia smiled like. It was one of the few stories when Sloane’s suitor didn’t end up being the villain. Instead, he helped her capture a ring of illegal koala hunters. They had one glorious night of passion in a tent near Ayers Rock before Sloane flew back to British Intelligence headquarters.
“It’s almost Christmas.” Drew shook her hand. “Being kind is what the season is all about.”
Samantha entered the bathroom and opened the suitcase Charlie had provided. Emily must have picked out the clothes; Emily worked for one of those trendy fashion brands that Samantha had never heard of before they started suddenly appearing on every celebrity’s Instagram story. Emily insisted she received more sample clothes than she could wear, and Samantha and Emily were the same size. There were suede pants and a cashmere sweater so soft and fluffy, it reminded Samantha of a cat curled up in the morning sun. She chose an emerald-green V-neck sweater and a pretty red scarf. She touched up her makeup and walked back through the terminal to the sidewalk.
A driver in a black uniform was standing in front of an SUV. He was about sixty with weathered skin and silvery hair.
“Miss Morgan?” He approached her.
Samantha glanced around and realized he was talking to her.
“Yes?” she asked cautiously.
“Mr. Wentworth sent me, I’m Bruno.” He pointed to her bags. “Can I take those for you?”
Samantha slipped into the passenger seat. The car was gloriously warm. The seats smelled of leather and there was a decanter of brandy in the side compartment.
“I didn’t expect to be picked up, I planned on calling Charlie for the address and taking an Uber,” Samantha said when Bruno started the car. “How did you know it was me?”
“Mr. Wentworth wants his guests to feel comfortable from the moment they arrive,” Bruno replied. “And I could tell from your photo.” He held up a Sloane Parker book that had been wedged between the seats. “My wife, Elaine, is a big fan. She asked if you wouldn’t mind signing a book.”
Samantha took out the fountain pen she kept in her purse for signing her books. She was almost enjoying herself. It felt good to be on solid ground, instead of being tossed around in the air. And she was flattered that Bruno’s wife wanted her autograph.
They drove past the famous Jackson Hole antlers in the town square. There was a western-style saloon strung with Christmas lights and a life-sized gingerbread house. Families milled around waiting to meet Santa Claus, and Samantha saw a bright red sled, stacked with presents.
