Page 1 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)
Ryan Danvers balanced on the icy slats of the barn roof in his Roper cowboy work boots the chilly December wind whipping around the raised collar of his shearling coat.
He plucked a nail from his mouth and hammered a new shingle into place.
A windstorm swept through Kringle, Texas, last night and ripped off two dozen shingles clean off the barn—the same barn set to host the annual Danvers’ Christmas Party in two weeks.
With his high deductible, it wasn’t worth filing an insurance claim, so now, instead of party planning, Ryan was up here risking his neck patching the roof, knowing every dollar he spent on supplies dinged his paper-thin party budget.
“Dang it,” he mumbled around the remaining nails in his mouth and wiped cold sweat from his forehead with a gloved hand.
What in Santa Claus’ name was he doing?
The weight of the past perched like an anvil on his shoulders. Seven years ago, his parents died in a horrific car crash on Christmas Eve.
For the first five holidays afterward, he and his older sister Jenny stopped his parents’ beloved tradition, too heartbroken and lost in their grief to consider it. Celebrating Christmas seemed wrong in a hundred different ways.
Then, two years ago, for the sake of the town and their own mental health, Jenny insisted they start up the party again. Their parents—especially their mother—loved Christmas, but to Ryan, the holiday was a reminder of everything he’d lost.
And he resented it, even as he moved forward for the love of his sister.
This year, however, Jenny was on bed rest, expecting her first baby. The doctor issued strict orders—no stress, no planning, no running around organizing a party.
That left Ryan in charge and as much as he loved Jenny, he begrudged the solo responsibility.
Okay, Grinch. Get over yourself. This isn’t about you.
He shook his head and eyed the sky. The wind bit his face and burned the skin beneath his beard stubble.
Thick gray clouds gathered heavy in the sky with the threat of more icy rain.
In this part of Texas, it rarely snowed, but sleet?
Oh yeah, that was a thing. Why did it feel like Christmas was plotting against him?
One shingle down, twenty-three more to go.
Mentally, Ryan calculated the cost of repairs and deducted it from the party budget he and Jenny set at the first of the year. Yikes. He was coming up way short.
Hmm. He could take the roof repair from the ranch budget, but then he’d be grappling for property tax money come January.
Wincing, he pounded in another shingle. Seriously, why did the Danvers have to single-handedly fund a big Kringle Christmas shindig just because of tradition?
Tapping into his personal savings was also an option but because of high interest rates, he’d stuck most of his disposable income into certificates of deposits and early withdrawal would cost him all his gains.
Honestly, if it were up to him, he’d cancel the whole dang thing.
But it wasn’t up to him. Not really. The Danvers Christmas Party wasn’t just a family tradition—it was also a pillar of the town’s holiday celebration, and the town sorely missed it during their five-year hiatus.
Local businesses depended on their event. The exposure and sales home-owned companies made during the party kept them going throughout the slow winter months. Canceling the party would mean letting folks down.
And Ryan hated letting people down.
Thirty minutes later, he hammered in the final nail into the last shingle and glanced up as a familiar red pickup truck pulled into the driveway.
Scott Finley, his brother-in-law and best friend, parked and got out.
Ryan hooked his hammer through a belt loop of his jeans and picked his way across the roof to the ladder.
Scott walked over, tilted back his Stetson, and squinted up. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“Like you’ve lost your ever-loving mind.”
Ryan grunted. “You offering to help, or are you here just to state the obvious?”
Scott chuckled and stepped to the base of the ladder. “Looks like you just finished. Perfect timing on my part.”
“What’s up?” Ryan peered over the eaves at him. “My sister okay?”
“Jenny’s fine. She sent me to check on you. It worried her that you were out here on your own since you gave the ranch hands two weeks off for Christmas.”
“My sister has enough to worry about without fussing over me. Tell her I’m fine. Now step off, I’m coming down.” He waved, shooing Scott away.
Scott moved back and waited until Ryan was on the ground. “How much are these repairs costing you?”
Ryan winced. “Don’t ask. Choosing a high deductible seemed like a good idea at the time for lower monthly insurance premiums, but now…”
“Where you getting the money to cover it?” Scott surveyed the old shingles lying strewn on the ground. The wind had blown several into the branches of the old oak tree next to the barn.
“Our party budget.” He blew out his breath. “I hated to dip into it, but no roof, no party. I’ll have to find somewhere to skimp.”
“People will get it.” Scott bent and started picking up the old shingles. “Hard times all around this year.”
Ryan joined him. “Yes, and the budget was already tight since you and Jenny couldn’t put as much into the kitty with the baby on the way.”
“We’re really sorry about that. I had no idea how expensive babies were. I took on extra work but?—”
“Hey, no shade. I understand completely. If the party didn’t mean so much to the town, I’d just pull the plug on the whole thing, but bringing the event back the way we did two years ago made such a difference in the community.”
“For sure it was a morale booster.” Scott bobbed his head and carried the armful of shingles he’d collected to the nearby burn barrel. “Everyone in Kringle was so grateful when you two started the party back up again, and no one more so than me.”
The reinstatement of the Christmas party two years ago was what got Scott and Jenny back together after five years of estrangement when Ryan hired Scott, a contractor, to renovate the barn. In fact, Scott was the one who put those shingles on the roof in the first place.
Ryan trailed after Scott. The grass, still covered in frost, crunched beneath their boots. He stared at the old oak tree where the few stray shingles still clung to the branches, stubborn and out of reach.
A blast of wind cut through him, along with biting grief.
For the most, he managed his sorrow well enough, but at Christmastime? Well, Christmas was different—the cold air, the scent of pine, the holiday decorations, the goofy music—brought the old heartache sharply into focus.
Thinking of his parents, Ryan’s mind drifted back to happier times, and he recalled the holiday after he’d turned eighteen and was helping his dad string lights along the front of the house. Dad had stepped back to survey their work and nodded with a grin.
“Looking good, son.” He clapped Ryan on the shoulder. “You know, one day this’ll all be yours. This party, this place—it’s more than just a holiday thing. Putting on this event is about showing people what it means to come together. It’s about community. Connection. Loving thy neighbor.”
Ryan brushed it off with a laugh. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll stick to hanging lights while you run the Christmas show for a long time to come.”
But his father’s face turned serious, something rare for his fun-loving dad.
Dad added weight to the hand on Ryan’s shoulder and looked him square in the eyes.
“You’ll understand one day. This party, it’s profoundly important.
Not just for the town, but for us Danvers too.
It’s our way of showing the town we care. ”
The memory settled around him like a shroud. Standing here on this cold December day, it hit him. His dad had known how much this party would one day matter even if Ryan couldn’t see it back then. The annual event wasn’t just a venerable tradition. It was their family’s love language.
“Ry?” Scott’s voice broke through the memory. “You seriously thinking about canceling the party this late in the game?”
Ryan clenched his jaw. The thought crossed his mind, several times over the past few weeks, but he’d pushed through. “Yeah. But I won’t.”
“It’s okay if you do. You gotta put yourself first, bro.”
Maybe it would be all right, but he wouldn’t cancel. It meant too much to Jenny, even if she couldn’t be part of it this year. Ryan gave a short nod, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.
The party was a reminder of everything he’d lost, but that memory of his dad, standing in the cold with a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, reminded him the festivities were also about everything he still had—his friends, the people of Kringle, Jenny, Scott, and soon a new niece or nephew. The ranch.
Home. Family. Community.
If he canceled, he wouldn’t just be giving up on the party, he’d be letting go of the values and traditions his parents tried to pass down to him and he wasn’t ready to let go.
He turned toward the barn, the patched roof standing as a small victory, but it didn’t make the heaviness in his heart any lighter.
Not this time of year.