Page 18 of Christmas at the Ranch
Drew rushed over to her.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “That icicle was as sharp as a dagger. You could have been badly hurt.”
Samantha reached up to unwrap her scarf. She was wearing the arrowhead pendant. She had forgotten all about it.
“I’m perfectly fine,” she assured him. Her hair was damp and a smattering of ice dusted her shoulders.
“Why don’t we take a photo another time,” Drew said, his voice thick with concern. “Let’s get back to the ranch. We could both use a hot toddy with extra bourbon.”
Samantha sat in the window seat in her guest room. She had a view of the whole valley. Cross-country skiers glided across fresh powder and a snowmobile jumped over the snow.
She touched the pendant around her neck. For some reason, she hadn’t been afraid when the icicle fell toward her. Could Marigold have been right? Had Samantha instinctively known the arrowhead would protect her?
Her phone rang and she answered.
“Samantha.” Charlie’s voice came over the line. “Just saying hi.”
“You don’t have to check up on me,” Samantha chuckled. “I’m doing everything that Arthur suggests.”
“I wasn’t checking up on you exactly,” Charlie returned. “I have some good news.”
“What kind of good news?” Samantha inquired.
“I had a phone call from a producer in Hollywood. Zach is interested in the Sloane Parker books.”
“You got a call on Christmas Eve?” Samantha frowned.
No one did business on Christmas Eve. She wondered if Charlie was trying to make her feel better, but he wouldn’t do something like that. Charlie took his job too seriously.
“Zach says the only time he has to read is during the holidays,” Charlie explained. “It’s only a phone call, but you never know. Sloane would be perfect for Hollywood.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Samantha said. “I was about to take a bath. Arthur is serving a special dinner and then we’re going to watch Santa Claus arrive by aerial tram.”
Charlie’s voice was warm.
“I’m glad you’re there, Samantha,” he said. “It means a lot to me and I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself. Arthur is a wonderful host.”
Samantha hung up and entered the bathroom. Her reflection stared back at her and she fingered the pendant. She imagined walking down the red carpet in Hollywood at her movie premiere. She’d be wearing some fabulous couture gown and Socks would have a black tie around his neck and blue booties.
She took off the pendant and laid it on the counter. Perhaps her luck was changing. It was Christmas, and Christmas miracles happened all the time.
Chapter Five
Samantha flipped through the sweaters hanging in her closet. She’d have to thank Charlie for packing a suitcase. Emily had the best taste and Samantha felt so grateful that Emily had lent her so many clothes. There was a tie-dyed alpaca sweater with that wonderful vintage feel, and a white cable-knit turtleneck from H&M, and a Naadam sweater in the softest cashmere. Emily insisted a cashmere sweater was the essential fashion piece of the season. To Samantha, the only necessary clothing item was her writing sweatpants. Without her favorite sweatpants—navy flannel that she bought when she was let go from her old job at the PR company and wore for a month while watching James Bond movies and reading the novels her roommate left on the bookshelf—she may never have started writing the Sloane Parker books at all.
Emily was a wealth of fashion advice on Sloane’s wardrobe. Just this morning, Samantha sent Emily a quick text about an idea she had when she woke up.
Sloane is dangling from a zip line in a jungle in northern Thailand. Beside her is Drake Halladay, the sexy British explorer she metat a temple in Bangkok. The rope that connected them to the zip line broke, and they were stuck thirty feet in the air. Sloane uses the ancient necklace given to her by a Buddhist monk to fasten herself to the zip line. Then she instructs Drake to hang on to her waist. Together, they inch along the zip line until they are safely on the ground.
Emily had texted back exactly what Sloane should be wearing: a Jenny Packham forest-green evening gown paired with Yves Saint Laurent stilettos. It was the perfect suggestion. The green blended in with the tropical foliage, so Sloane and Drake weren’t spotted by the drug lords who had been trailing them from Bangkok. Plus, the Saint Laurent stilettos had spiky heels that were quite useful for trudging along the forest floor.
Samantha texted Emily six smile emojis and put away her phone. Martha, the cook and housekeeper, was preparing Christmas breakfast and Samantha didn’t want to miss out.
Ever since she’d returned to the ranch yesterday afternoon, she’d felt better. Her appetite returned and she enjoyed Christmas Eve dinner with the other guests. The dining room looked so festive: the great oak table was set with red and gold china and flickering candelabras. A small Tiffany’s box sat in front of each place setting. Samantha’s held a gold pen engraved with her initials.
Charlie was right. Arthur was the most thoughtful host.
The meal had been delicious. Martha made rack of lamb and king crab legs, and platters of braised brussels sprouts and honey-glazed yams. For dessert there were three kinds of pies. The huckleberry pie was so sweet and tasty, she resolved to go back to the souvenir shop where Marigold worked and buy a jar of huckleberry jam.
