Linda Lael - Holiday In Stone Creek

Ms. Wiggins trilled out a very un-CIA-like giggle. “Oh, we don’t use that term in front of the pupils, Mr. Quinn,” she assured him. “Sophie is fine. She just tends to be a little overdramatic, that’s all. In fact, I’m encouraging her to sign up for our thespian program, beginning next term—”

“You’re sure she’s all right?” Tanner broke in.

“She’s one of our most emotionally stable students. It’s just that, well, kids get a little sentimental around the holidays.”

Don’t we all? Tanner thought. He always skipped Thanksgiving and Christmas both, if he couldn’t spend them with Sophie. Up until now it had been easy enough, given that he’d been out of the country last year, and the year before that. Sophie had stayed with Tessa, and he’d ordered all her gifts online.

Remembering that gave him a hollow feeling in the middle of his gut.

“I know Sophie is stable,” he said patiently. “That doesn’t mean she’s completely okay.”

Ms. Wiggins paused eloquently before answering. “Well, if you would like Sophie to come home for Thanksgiving, we’d certainly be glad to make the arrangements.”

Tanner wanted to say yes. Instantly. Book a plane. Put her on board. I don’t care what it costs. But it would only lead to another tearful parting when it came time for Sophie to return to school, and Tanner couldn’t bear another one of those. Not just yet, anyway.

“It’s best if Sophie stays there,” he said.

“I quite agree,” Ms. Wiggins replied. “Last-minute trips home can be very disruptive to a child.”

“You’ll let me know if there are any problems?”

“Of course I will,” Ms. Wiggins assured him. If there was just a hint of condescension in her tone, he supposed he deserved it. “We at Briarwood pride ourselves on monitoring our students’ mental health as well as their academic achievement. I promise you, Sophie is not traumatized.”

Tanner wished he could be half as sure of that as Ms. Wiggins sounded. A few holiday platitudes were exchanged, and the call ended. Tanner snapped his phone shut and dropped it into his coat pocket.

Then he turned back toward the barn.

Could a horse get depressed?

Nah, he decided.

But a man sure as hell could.

A SNOWMANSTOOD in the center of the yard at the homeplace when Olivia drove in, and there was one of those foldout turkeys taped to the front door. Brad came out of the barn, walking toward her, just as Meg, her sister-in-law, stepped onto the porch, smiling a welcome.

“How do you like our turkey?” she called. “We’re really getting into the spirit this year.” Her smile turned wistful. “It’s strange, without Carly here, but she’s having such a good time.”

Grinning, Olivia gestured toward Brad. “He’ll do,” she teased.

Brad reached her, hooked an arm around her neck and gave her a big-brother half hug. “She’s referring to the paper one,” he told her in an exaggerated whisper.

Olivia contrived to look surprised. “Oh!” she said.

Brad laughed and released her from the choke hold. “So what brings you to Stone Creek Ranch, Doc?”

Olivia glanced around, taking in the familiar surroundings. Missing her grandfather, Big John, the way she always did when she set foot on home ground. The place had changed a lot since Brad had semiretired from his career in country music—he’d refurbished the barn, replaced the worn-out fences and built a state-of-the-art recording studio out back. At least he’d given up the concert tours, but even with Meg and fourteen-year-old Carly and the baby in the picture, Olivia still wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d come home to stay.

He’d skipped out before, after all, just like their mother.

“I have a problem,” she said in belated answer to his question.

Meg had gone back inside, but she and Brad remained in the yard.

“What sort of problem?” he asked, his eyes serious.

“A reindeer problem,” Olivia explained. Oh, and I got off to a fine start with your friend the contractor, too.

Brad’s brow furrowed. “A what?”

“I need to get out of this truck,” Ginger transmitted from the passenger seat. “Now.”

With a slight sigh Olivia opened Ginger’s door so she could hop out, sniff the snow and leave a yellow splotch. That done, she trotted off toward the barn, probably looking for Brad’s dog, Willie.

“I found this reindeer,” Olivia said, heading for the back of the Suburban and unveiling Rodney. “I was hoping he could stay here until we find his owner.”

“What if he doesn’t have an owner?” Brad asked reasonably, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair before reaching out to stroke the deer.

“He’s tame,” Olivia pointed out.

“Tame, but not housebroken,” Brad said.

Sure enough, Rodney had dropped a few pellets on his blanket.

“I don’t expect you to keep him in the house,” Olivia said.

Brad laughed. Reached right in and hoisted Rodney down out of the Suburban. The deer stumbled a little, wobbly legged from riding, and looked worriedly up at Olivia.

“You’ll be safe here,” she told the animal. She turned back to Brad. “He can stay in the barn, can’t he? I know you have some empty stalls.”

“Sure,” Brad said after a hesitation that would have been comical if Olivia hadn’t been so concerned about Rodney. “Sure,” he repeated.

Knowing he was about to ruffle her hair, the way he’d done when she was a little kid, Olivia took a step back.

“I want something in return, though,” Brad continued.

“What?” Olivia asked suspiciously.

“You, at our table, on Thanksgiving,” he answered. “No excuses about filling in at the clinic. Ashley and Melissa are both coming, and Meg’s mother, too, along with her sister, Sierra.”

The invitation didn’t come as any surprise to Olivia— Meg had mentioned holding a big Thanksgiving blowout weeks ago—but the truth was, Olivia preferred to work on holidays. That way, she didn’t miss Big John so much, or wonder if their long-lost mother might come waltzing through the door, wanting to get to know the grown children she’d abandoned so many years before.

“Livie?” Brad prompted.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be here. But I’m on call over Thanksgiving, and all the other vets have families, so if there’s an emergency—”

“Liv,” Brad broke in, “you have a family, too.”

“I meant wives, husbands, children,” Olivia said, embarrassed.

“Two o’clock, you don’t need to bring anything, and wear something you haven’t delivered calves in.”

She glared up at him. “Can I see my nephew now,” she asked, “or is there a dress code for that, too?”

Brad laughed. “I’ll get Rudolph settled in a nice, cozy stall while you go inside. Check the attitude at the door—Meg wasn’t kidding when she said she was in the holiday spirit. Of course, she’s working extra hard at it this year, with Carly away.”

Willie and Ginger came from behind the barn, Willie rushing to greet Olivia.

“His name is Rodney,” Olivia said. “Not Rudolph.”

Brad gave her a look and started for the barn, and Rodney followed uncertainly, casting nary a backward glance at Olivia.

Willie, probably clued in by Ginger, was careful to give Rodney a lot of dog-free space. Olivia bent to scratch his ears.

He’d healed up nicely since being attacked by a wolf or coyote pack on the mountain rising above Stone Creek Ranch. With help from Brad and Meg, Olivia had brought him back to town for surgery and follow-up care. He’d bonded with Brad, though, and been his dog ever since.

With Ginger and Willie following, Olivia went into the house.

Mac’s playpen stood empty in the living room.