Page 12 of Christmas at the Ranch
Instead, Roger gave up everything they had for the promise of something shiny and new. A partner-track job and a beachside condo that happened to be three thousand miles away.
Samantha shook these thoughts off. She tried not to think about Roger. She was only nostalgic because she was away from her apartment and Socks at Christmas.
“Your wife sounds pretty intelligent too,” Samantha said with a smile.
“Elaine and I have been married for forty years. Elaine helps out in the main house and we live in rooms above the barn.” Bruno picked up the bucket. “Marriage is all about teamwork. A good marriage is the best thing life can offer.”
Samantha decided to change the subject.
“Do you really feed the horses breakfast cereal?” she asked.
“Horses have a sweet tooth just like people,” Bruno said with a grin. “And it’s Christmas. They deserve a special treat.”
A short time later, Samantha reached her room as her phone rang. It was her mother on FaceTime.
“Mom, you never use FaceTime,” Samantha answered in surprise. Her mother wore a Nordic sweater and her graying hair was covered by a beanie. “You’re holding the phone upside down.”
The image changed and her mother smiled into the camera.
“The owner of the Airbnb said FaceTiming is cheaper,” her mother said knowledgeably. “It uses Wi-Fi instead of minutes on your phone.”
Samantha kept silent. She had been trying to explain that to her parents for ages.
“You should see the Airbnb,” her mother was saying. “I thought staying in someone’s home would be like staying at your aunt Phyllis’s beach cottage during the summers. You know, when you and your cousins had to sleep in the attic, and your father and I got dishwashing duty every night. Inge serves the most delicious Scandinavian breakfast: pickled herring on crisp bread and poppy seed buns. And our room is delightful. We can see all the way to the fjords.”
“The fjords!” Samantha said in alarm. She pictured her parents hiking with ice picks over frozen ice. The ice could crack and they’d be swallowed up by the cold, dark river. “The trip was supposed to be eight European capitals at Christmastime.”
“It’s an overnight excursion from Oslo. It wasn’t on the itinerary but I saw it posted on Nigella Lawson’s Instagram page. I convinced your father we had to do it. Nigella said it was a life-changing experience.”
“Since when are you on Instagram?” Samantha inquired.
“We joined at the beginning of the trip. Marjorie and John couldn’t come because John had a hip replacement. I promised I’d post photos. It’s so much fun. Like those slide shows we used to show at the end of the summer. Enough about us,” she said. “How is Connecticut?”
Samantha gazed out the window. The Teton mountains loomed in the distance and the fields were covered in snow.
“I’m not in Connecticut,” she said bleakly. “The house party is at Arthur’s ranch in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.”
“Jackson Hole!” her mother exclaimed. “One of the tour guides mentioned Jackson Hole. It has more black diamond runs than almost any ski resort in America. And the bison meat is delicious. They serve it at every restaurant.”
“What’s bison?” Samantha asked.
“Samantha, really. Don’t you remember your American geography?” her mother clucked, sounding more like a teacher than a mother. “Bison are members of the buffalo family. Only, bison have humps and their horns are sharper. Bison are everywhere in Wyoming. You’ll see them walking along the side of the road.”
“I’ll watch out for them,” Samantha said nervously. “And you should stay away from the fjords. It sounds dangerous. You’re supposed to be treating yourself to nice hotels.”
“Nice hotels can be boring, we want to see the real Norway.” Her mother paused. “Please don’t worry about us, Samantha. We’re very careful, and remember your father was an Eagle Scout, he’s prepared for anything.”
Samantha was tempted to say that was decades ago but she didn’t want to make her mother feel old. She couldn’t help but worry. They were her parents and she didn’t know what she’d do without them.
They finished talking and Samantha hung up.
Drew was wrong. Everyone was on Instagram. If Samantha’s mother took travel advice from a cooking celebrity, why wouldn’t readers snatch up Melody Minnow’s books based purely on the lipstick Melody wore in her Instagram profile?
She absently typed “bison” into her computer search. Bison weighed two thousand pounds and liked to move in herds.
She snapped the laptop shut and sank into the bed.
Not only did she have to worry about a seven-hundred-pound elk charging her when they went elk watching. Now she had to watch out for a whole family of bison when she simply walked down the street.
