A Rancher's Christmas. Ann Roth

She lowered her voice. “Don’t worry about Lucky’s bedding. We disposed of it, so you won’t have to. We wish you could stay with us, but we don’t have the room. Unless you want to sleep on the living room couch...”

      “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I think I will go upstairs in a minute.”

      After saying good-night to everyone and exchanging hugs and tears, she bent down to pat the dogs. They licked her and then trotted over to Uncle Redd.

      “Thanks again for picking me up tonight,” she told Zach. “I worried about Uncle Redd driving all that way, especially in the dark. I offered to rent a car, but you know how stubborn he is.”

      “Stubbornness seems to be an Arnett family trait.” Zach’s mouth quirked again, and Gina smiled. “If you can’t sleep tonight and need company, give me a call. My trailer is just across the ranch.”

      “Good to know, but I’m so tired I’ll probably fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow. Although if we didn’t have a houseful of guests tonight, I’d take Uncle Redd’s car and drive to the hotspot near the post office and check my email, just to make sure my assistant survived without me today.” Gina yawned so hard, her eyes watered. “She hasn’t called, so I guess she did. I’ll call her in the morning.”

      Zach thought about telling her to blow off work and take care of herself instead, but he doubted she’d listen. He ought to know—three years ago, he’d been just like her. Probably even worse.

      He nodded. “Sleep tight.”

      “And don’t let the bedbugs bite? When I was a little girl, Uncle Lucky used to say that when I spent the night here. Good night, Zach.”

      He watched her trudge up the stairs, moving as if she was beyond weary. It was going to be a rough ten days.

      * * *

      USED TO WAKING up early, Gina opened her eyes after a sound sleep. At first she had no idea where she was. It was still dark outside, but she could make out the faded curtains and old blinds pulled over the window and feel the lumpy mattress. She was in the small, plain guestroom she thought of as hers at Uncle Lucky’s ranch.

      But Uncle Lucky was gone.

      Bleary-eyed but feeling oddly rested, she stumbled out of bed. The chattering of the guests downstairs had lulled her to sleep, and she had actually slept though the night. No tossing and turning, no waking up and worrying. Which was surprising, but Gina wasn’t going to question her good luck.

      She peered through the blinds. Sometime during the night, a few inches of snow had fallen. It wasn’t enough to cause problems, but it blanketed the rolling fields in white.

      Uncle Lucky’s house was old and outdated, but thanks to storm windows and a working furnace, it was reasonably warm. So different from Gina’s childhood home, where winters meant shivering from the second she crawled out of bed until she climbed back in under the covers at night.

      It wasn’t exactly the Ritz here, but at least everything was in working order. Uncle Redd could move in without doing any repairs or updates, which would suit him fine. None of the Arnetts enjoyed spending money without a good reason. Gina had a very good reason for spending hers—to be successful, she had to look the part.

      Still in a sleep fog, she padded to the bathroom. A shower helped shake out the cobwebs, and once she fixed her hair and applied makeup, she felt much better. Knowing she would be meeting with the attorney that afternoon and not wanting to have to change clothes later, she dressed in a cream cashmere sweater set and gray slacks, a stunning outfit purchased on credit at Neiman Marcus. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she headed downstairs.

      Now that the visitors had all left, the little house was eerily silent. Much too quiet, but at the moment, Gina’s main concern was coffee.

      As a child, she’d spent every summer here, and she knew her way around her uncle’s cluttered kitchen. Now cakes, pies and breads filled every spare bit of counter space, but some kind soul had cleaned up last night and run Uncle Lucky’s portable dishwasher. Gina unhooked it from the faucet and wheeled it to its place against the wall, bypassing a stack of old newspapers that probably went back five years. Those had to go, but not just now. Coffee. She needed coffee.

      Uncle Lucky had always preferred the no-frills stuff, and his coffeemaker was the kind that percolated on the stove and took its sweet time. Compared to the state-of-the-art coffee and espresso maker at Gina’s condo, it seemed primitive.

      Not that she made her own coffee often. In Chicago, she could run down the street and pick up an espresso at any number of places. But Saddlers Prairie didn’t have many options. Barb’s Café was nearly a five-mile drive from the ranch, and the Burger Palace, a fast-food place, was almost ten. Neither was open for business this early. She was stuck with Uncle Lucky’s generic brand.

      While the coffee brewed, Gina cut herself a thick slab of cinnamon-raisin bread. She popped it into the toaster and waited. Without Wi-Fi, she wasn’t able to check her email and felt lost. She did have a text from Carrie. The rollout of the Grant Holiday Magic campaign had gone as smoothly as Gina had hoped, which was good news. Carrie didn’t mention the other clients, and Gina assumed that all was well.

      Her assistant’s personal news was interesting. She texted she’d gone with friends to a bar after work on Tuesday and had met someone. He’d asked her to go out for dinner with him on Wednesday, and she had been about to leave for her date as soon as she fired off the report with the campaign’s numbers. Gina would stop at the Wi-Fi hotspot and read the report later.

      At least one of them was dating. Gina texted back a thanks for the info and asked about the dinner date.

      She didn’t need to talk to her assistant this morning, but she was used to being busy all the time, and the lack of rushing around and accomplishing things was unnerving. She dialed the office.

      “Hi, Marsha, it’s Gina,” she told the receptionist. “Please put me through to Carrie.”

      “She hasn’t come in yet.”

      Gina checked her watch. It was after nine in Chicago, well past time to start the workday. “Where is she?”

      “Well, she had that dinner date last night. Maybe she stayed out late and overslept.”

      Not a good sign.

      “Wait, I just remembered something,” Marsha said. “On her way out last night, she mentioned something about stopping at some of the Grant department stores today. Maybe she’s at a store right now.”

      Conducting a visual check. That made sense. Gina let out a relieved breath—and then wondered what she had been worried about. Carrie was a younger version of herself. As eager as she was to move up the corporate ladder, she wouldn’t blow this.

      “I’ve been thinking about you and your family,” Marsha said with sympathy. “How are you doing?”

      “It’s not easy, but I’m managing,” she said and gave Marsha a few details. “Will you have Carrie call me when she comes in?”

      Gina disconnected and made a mental list of what she needed to do this morning. She would start with compiling Uncle Lucky’s bank statements and legal documents so that she could take them to the meeting with the attorney. Her uncle’s office was even more cluttered than the kitchen, and finding what she needed wouldn’t be easy.

      She also thought about the funeral tomorrow and all that entailed. Her family expected her to give the eulogy, which she’d started to write in bed last night. Gina didn’t plan on taking up too much time because other people also planned to speak, but she still needed to hone her speech and practice it.

      At some point she needed to sort through the old papers and junk her uncle had collected. And he’d collected piles of both.

      Suddenly, she felt even more tired than she had yesterday. Last night, more than a few people had offered to help her with whatever she needed. After she sorted through everything, she would