A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal. Cathy Mcdavid

apparently risen some time ago, for the door sat ajar and not a single peep came from inside the room.

      Likely, she was downstairs, making coffee and toasting homemade bagels for breakfast. Molly was straining her ears for any hint of activity when Bridget flung open the bathroom door and emerged from behind a cloud of steam.

      “Thanks for hogging the entire hot water supply.”

      “Get up earlier next time.”

      Molly huffed as she shouldered past her sister. Being adults didn’t stop them from squabbling like they had when they were young.

      “Whatever.” Bridget darted to her room, tucking in the tail of the bath towel she wore on her head like a turban. Several red tendrils had escaped and lay plastered against her neck, forming a row of inverted question marks. Molly’s own wavy hair would look the same when she stepped from the shower.

      It was one of many similarities between them. They shared freckled cheeks, a cleft in their chins, a love of sweets and an unwavering determination to marry a man just like their late father.

      They also had their differences. Big ones. While Bridget was an open book, messy to a fault, and tended to easily trust people, Molly kept her thoughts and feelings to herself, preferred her surroundings and every aspect of her life to be neat and tidy, and exercised caution in all situations.

      She had good reason. Her twice-wounded heart needed protecting. Grandma Em’s invitation, issued on the heels of Molly’s latest breakup, had provided the perfect opportunity. She’d packed her car and bid Southern California goodbye without a single regret.

      Molly showered in record time before the hot water really did run out—another quirk of the old house—then returned to her room. After throwing on her clothes, she ran a brush through her wet hair. She’d style it and apply makeup later, before the open house started at noon. There was simply too much to accomplish before then.

      Of course Bridget had beaten her downstairs. Molly made straight for the kitchen, expecting to be assaulted by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasting bagels. Instead, Bridget stood at the counter, dropping clumps of thick, chocolatey batter onto a cookie sheet. The coffeepot sat untouched.

      “Where’s Grandma?” Molly asked, mildly irritated. She desperately needed to fuel up on caffeine.

      “I haven’t seen her yet.”

      How odd. Maybe she was on an emergency run to the market for some last-minute item. Though, on second thought, the town’s one small grocery store didn’t open until nine.

      “Did you call her?” Molly asked.

      “Been too busy.”

      Fishing her cell phone from her jeans pocket, she dialed Grandma Em. The call went straight to voice mail.

      “She must have forgotten to charge her phone.”

      “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Bridget slid the cookie sheet into the oven.

      Ignoring the twinge of anxiety winding through her, Molly set down her phone and filled the coffeepot with water. They did have a brand-new individual cup brewing system in the dining room, but that was reserved for guests.

      “Do you think we were wrong to plan our grand opening in the middle of the holiday season?” she asked. “It’s still technically Thanksgiving weekend. People are going to be out shopping or putting up Christmas decorations.”

      “We can’t afford to wait.”

      “True.” Expenses were mounting while revenues wouldn’t pick up until after they officially opened. Molly knew that for a fact as she handled the ranch books.

      It was then she spotted the small piece of notepaper taped to the refrigerator. Grandma Em’s familiar handwriting jumped out at her.

      “What’s this?” With her free hand, Molly tore off the note and started reading. The next instant, her fingers went slack, and she nearly dropped the pot. “I don’t believe it!”

      “What’s wrong?” Bridget glanced up from sprinkling flour onto a rolling mat.

      “Grandma’s gone.” The words fell from Molly’s mouth in a shocked whisper.

      “Where? The café?”

      “Try the Grand Canyon and then Nevada. In Homer’s RV.” Molly gaped at her sister, alarm battling with disbelief. “They’ve eloped. They’re getting married in Reno and then taking a monthlong road trip.”

      “No way!” Bridget wiped her hands on a towel and charged across the kitchen. She snatched the note from Molly and quickly scanned the paper.

      “She must be kidding,” Molly said. “Grandma wouldn’t leave on the day of our open house for anything. Right?”

      “I don’t know. She might.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      Bridget thrust the note back at her. “She made a comment the other day about really liking Homer.”

      That was news to Molly. Yes, Grandma and Homer were friends and went out to lunch sometimes. But eloping? Surely Molly would have noticed her grandmother falling in love. She wasn’t entirely self-absorbed.

      “You should have told me.”

      “Honestly,” Bridget said, “I didn’t think a lot about it other than if Grandma had a boyfriend, then good for her. At least one of us was dating.”

      “Apparently, he’s a lot more than a boyfriend. They’re getting married!” Without Molly and her sister and their family in attendance. She tried to ignore the sharp stab of hurt. “What about the grand opening? Grandma’s our hostess. And who’s going to marry people?”

      Grandma Em had originally suggested they hire Homer to wed those couples without their own officiant. It had seemed like a sensible solution at the time. The O’Malleys were in need, and Homer was available since retiring from his position as minister at Valley Community Church.

      “Grandma says in her note replacements for her and Homer are on the way. That everything’s been handled.”

      “What kind of replacements?” Molly fought for control. She didn’t fare well with blows from left field.

      “Guess we’ll find out.” Bridget returned to the counter. “Look, I need to start the bread or it won’t rise in time.”

      “Bread? Really? We’re in crisis.”

      Molly dug her fingers into her forehead where an ache had started to throb. Grandma leaving hours before their grand opening and marrying a man no one had had any idea she was even serious about was nothing short of insane.

      Setting down the coffeepot, she grabbed her phone and dialed her grandmother’s number again, only to disconnect when the recorded greeting kicked in.

      “They must be out of range.” Bridget dumped an oblong of bread dough onto the mat and began kneading. “You should have left a message.”

      “And said what? The two of you had better get yourselves back home right now? We have a business to run. Guests to accommodate. Couples to unite in wedded bliss.”

      Photographers. Live video streaming. Floral arrangements. Music. Decorations. Molly realized with some dismay she wasn’t as familiar with her grandmother’s job at Sweetheart Ranch as she should be. In addition to the books, Molly oversaw cabin reservations, customer service, housekeeping, marketing and the various amenities they offered. That left her too busy to participate much in the wedding planning.

      “Give her a chance to explain,” Bridget advised. “Love makes people do crazy things.”

      “I think we should cancel the open house.”

      “Absolutely not! Our first guests arrive this afternoon, and our first wedding is at seven tonight.”

      “Assuming