Page 35 of Moody's Grumpy Holiday
I glanced over at the group of corporate big shots preparing for a day on the ranch. Some wore bolo ties, belt buckles the size of dinner plates, and jeans tight enough to constrict blood flow. That wasn’t gonna be comfortable.
I had to admit the dude ranch was the only aspect I wasn’t truly sold on. I didn’t have a problem with it, per se. I just couldn’t see myself playing tour guide to millionaires wearing thousand-dollar boots that probably wouldn’t see the light of day after one trip.
“Good idea, but I’m happy to do it. Or I can take Nelly off your hands,” I offered.
“Okay, suit yourself.” He passed the goat to me and brushed his palms on his jeans. “Be good, Nell. No biting. I don’t want Hudson to regret that he didn’t hightail it to Christmas Town when he had the chance.”
I stroked the kid’s ears and scratched the top of its head as I studied my new business partner. Tanner was my height but outweighed me by at least twenty pounds. He was a good-looking guy with wavy sandy-brown hair, green eyes, and an affable smile. His cheery disposition and positive attitude permeated every facet of the ranch.
I’d liked him from day one. And I’d learned a long time ago that you could tell a lot about folks based on how they treated animals. Tanner was the quintessential animal lover. He was the type who’d give a hungry dog his own dinner, use his shirt to fashion a tourniquet for an injured sheep, and stay awake till the wee hours of the morning to comfort a laboring horse.
Those were things I’d do without a second thought as well, but I’d known plenty of assholes who lacked the compassion gene and hadn’t deserved to work with animals in any capacity. That wasn’t the case here.
Oak Ridge was a sprawling, multi-purpose commercial enterprise. We sold vacations with horseback riding and ranch-life activities to the public, and dairy milk and crops to local vendors. But animals were vital to our success, and Tanner and his crew treated them with care. And yeah, he talked to them all damn day.
In a way, his sunny nature reminded me of Moody…pre-December.
“I like Christmas Town,” I commented conversationally. “It’s aptly named, that’s for sure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more tinsel or garland in one place.”
“Right? It’s crazy.”
“Any idea how the town came to be? I mean, it’s a unique concept.”
Tanner tilted the brim of his hat and snorted. “Believe it or not, the whole Christmas thing was a gimmick an oil tycoon thought up when he bought the town forty years ago. I think it was called Mayville at first, but he wanted to recreate the wild west with a saloon and cowboy-inspired shops. It didn’t attract visitors the way he hoped, so he hired a marketing firm to come up with ideas and one of them suggested going all out during the holiday season and advertising western-themed fun for families. That enormous evergreen at the bottom of the hill was the inspiration, and it was a hit. But the crowds disappeared in January, and the solution was to change the name and ring in the holidays all year long. Decades later, it’s still going strong. Though I heard they have Santa to thank for that.”
“Excuse me?”
He snickered. “Milt Moody. You’ve seen the Santa statue. C’mon, you can’t miss it. He moved into town and took Christmas to the next level. He dressed up as Santa year-round. Flip-flops and Bermuda shorts in warmer weather, full suit in fall and winter, but the beard was omnipresent. He organized troops of carolers, themed events, and put the town on the map again. No one knew why he did it. He didn’t own a business or any shares in the town. He was just a retired teacher from Pittsburgh who loved the holidays. Go figure.”
Moody’s dad.
“Huh. I—”Buzz buzz.I slipped my cell from my pocket, angling it out of the curious goat’s reach to check the caller ID. “Ah, that’s my mom.”
“Talk to her. I’ll take Nelly.” Tanner swept the baby goat from my arms and ambled away. “See you around, man.”
I waved before answering my cell. “Hey, Ma.”
“Hi, honey. How’s California treating you? Don’t tell me you’re eating granola and kale salads every day…that’s all I ask,” she joked.
I headed toward the fence facing an open field and hiked my foot on the middle slat. “Rest assured, I haven’t eaten a single piece of kale since I’ve been here.”
She chuckled, a light and breezy sound that reminded me of home. “Good. What’s new, what’s happening? Give me all the details. I miss not being able to knock on your door or bump into you at the barn.”
“It’s only been ten days, Ma.”
“So? California is far away. Is it nice?”
“It’s great.” I filled her in on my move, told her about a horse I knew she’d like, and the holiday tasting at the winery. “You’d love it. You’ll have to come visit soon.”
“I will, but first…I have to tell you two things, and I’m not sure how you’ll take either one of them. Number one, I bought you a ticket to come home for Christmas.”
“Mom…” I leaned on the fence post and frowned. “We talked about this. I’m not?—”
“Number two, Kylie married a yoga instructor and moved to Nashville,” she continued in a rush.
“Oh.”
Maybe that was supposed to hurt, but I didn’t feel anything at all.