A Christmas to Remember. Rebecca Moesta

“Yup, we’ve got a nice four-wheel-drive SUV for you.”

      That didn’t sound very fun to Jennifer at all. A clunky old SUV? She’d been hoping for something a bit more luxurious or sleek to start off her vacation. “Ooh, do you have anything a little faster?” she asked. “I was hoping I could get there before it’s too dark.”

      The clerk hesitated. “An SUV would be a great choice in this weather.”

      She smiled one of her patented Jennifer Wade smiles that always got her what she wanted. It was an expression of friendly determination with a flash of challenge in her eyes. Paula called that smile “velvet over steel.”

      The rental agent sighed. “Well, there are a couple of options I could show you. Will you be needing to rent a GPS today?”

      Jennifer held up her smartphone for him to see. “Everything I need is in here.”

      The clerk smiled wanly and clicked something on his computer. He printed out her rental agreement, and it took an exasperating amount of time to complete it—sheesh, there was a waiver for turning down the GPS?

      It was late afternoon and snowing by the time she pulled out of the rental car lot. The weather had turned the skies gloomy. And it was rush hour. The silver sports coupe she had chosen crawled along I-70 heading west through Denver. The sun was low on the horizon, nearly blinding her. She flipped down her visor and put on a pair of sunglasses.

      “What time does the sun set today?” she asked the electronic assistant on her telephone.

      “The sun will set at 4:38 pm today,” the electronic voice answered.

      She blew out an annoyed breath. The last thing she wanted was to be wandering around in the dark looking for an unfamiliar place. When she had asked the car rental agent for directions, he had told her, “It’s a straight shot on I-70 for hours. Then there are lots of signs—you can’t miss it.”

      But she might miss it, especially if it was dark and snowing. Well, at least no one was at the chalet waiting for her. There were no engagements, no deadlines, nothing to do but relax. She didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone by arriving late, and Paula had told her she didn’t need to call right away. So why was she worrying?

      “You’re a grownup,” she chided herself. “You can handle a freeway and following a bunch of signs. Besides, you’ve got the GPS on your phone.” On the far side of Denver, the traffic finally started to ease up, and she gladly accelerated to the posted speed limit as the road climbed into the foothills. “Straight shot for hours,” she reminded herself.

      She felt the tense knot between her shoulder blades getting tighter. When she tried to massage her neck and shoulders with one hand, she bumped the steering wheel, started to drift out of her lane, and yanked the wheel back straight. The tires of the impractical sports coupe slipped on the road. Her stomach clenched, and she held her breath. The back of the car slewed to the right for a few seconds. She steered into the skid, and the car straightened out again. That was close, she thought. She made herself start breathing again.

      “Okay, Colorado, you’d better be worth it.” It was getting dark. Snow swirled around the rental car. “I can’t see anything,” she muttered and took off her sunglasses.

      What she really needed right now was something to take her mind off the long drive. Maybe she could listen to some music or news. She turned on the car radio. Since she didn’t know any of the local stations, she tried the preset buttons. The first station was playing Christmas music. She listened for a few seconds, but then her mind went back to the Christmas special she had just finished shooting, and she thought of the different ways she could have set the table that would have displayed the food to better advantage.

      No, she would be better off not listening to Christmas music at the moment. Even though the holidays held good thoughts of her mother, it had only been two years since Jennifer lost her, and Christmas music felt like an unfair reminder that she had lost all of the family that she’d had left in the world. Not all of her friends, of course, but all of her family. She tried another preset button. This station played Christmas hymns. She tried a third button, but only found more Christmas music. In frustration, she shut the radio off. She glanced down at her GPS and saw she was perfectly on course. She gave a sigh. With nothing else to occupy her mind, the memories came.

      Her thoughts inadvertently drifted back to when she was in her twenties. While putting herself through the Institute of Culinary Education in New York, she’d frequently helped her friend Meredith with catering jobs. During one of these catering events, Jennifer had met Ashton Randall III at his parents’ elegant Long Island home. He had enigmatic hazel eyes, patrician features, an aquiline nose, short copper hair, and lips curled into a perpetual smirk.

      After the party, he’d offered to take her home. The rest, as they say, was history—bad history.

      After a couple of months of formal courtship, Ashton had proposed, and Jennifer had accepted. What she had wanted most was a real family: children, a home, and a sense of belonging. Only much later had Jennifer realized that the warning signs with Ashton had been there all along. It had taken years to recognize that he viewed her as little more than an ornament, a pretty tool to use in furthering his position and prestige. In his narcissism, he had tried to control every part of her life.

      Looking back now, Jennifer decided that the best thing to come out of those wasted years had been her blog, which had ultimately led to her friendship with Paula and to her career. Maybe she would give Paula a call, after all, as soon as she got to the chalet.

      Jennifer pressed down harder on the gas pedal of her sports coupe.

Chapter 7

      John used extra caution driving the GMC 4X4 through the snow toward Stan and Holly Barbour’s ranch. One of their horses was having a difficult labor, so they had called John, and John had brought his son. Kyle, who claimed he wanted to be a vet, loved going on house calls with his dad. Normally, John wouldn’t have taken him out after bedtime, but the Christmas holidays had started, and Kyle didn’t have school the next day.

      “You tired, buddy?” John asked Kyle.

      Kyle rubbed his eyes and yawned. “No.”

      John had to smile at that. In most cases, Kyle said exactly what he was thinking, but he wouldn’t admit to being tired. He didn’t want to lose out on spending extra time with his dad. John could understand that, but he wanted to make sure Kyle didn’t feel like he had to be interested in veterinary medicine just to get his attention. “You don’t have to come on these house calls with me if you don’t want to.”

      “No, I want to,” Kyle insisted. “I’m your assistant.”

      “The best,” John agreed. “Okay. Have you thought about what you might want to be when you grow up—other than a vet? You could be almost anything, you know. You have plenty of time to plan.”

      “I know,” Kyle said. “Can’t I be an animal doctor like you?”

      “Sure,” John said. But Kyle was only seven, and John wanted to make sure his son was prepared for what he might see tonight. John and Kyle climbed out of the truck, both dressed in layers against the cold. “I need to warn you, buddy. I’ve seen some breech births go wrong, and in those cases, the mare or foal can die. You need to be prepared, okay?”

      Kyle nodded. “But we’ll try to save them.” His son’s endless optimism was one of the things that kept John afloat.

      Stan met them at the barn door. “Thanks for coming down with the storm coming in,” he said.

      “How’s she doing?” John asked.

      “Not so good. It’s a breech for sure,” Stan said.

      “Your mare is having a foal,” Kyle said, demonstrating his knowledge of the situation.

      “That’s