Page 35 of Snowed in with the Rancher

And while it might have broken her heart if she'd let it, Olivia simply didn't have the time to worry about it. Christmas was only three days away, and she had nothing for the girls. The tree they'd decorated at Tate's was fine, but all their ornaments, the ones she'd inherited from her parents, the ones the girls were attached to, were packed away in the storage unit, and nothingfeltlike Christmas. There'd been no trip to see Santa, no baking Christmas cookies, no attending parties at friends' homes. The girls were cranky, Olivia was overwrought, and any ideas she'd had about getting a partner in all of this had rumbled out the door with Tate the first morning she'd woken up to find him long since gone.

She pulled up in front of Thomas and Lucy's and released a long sigh. The one bright light in the whole situation had been Tate's parents. She couldn't have asked for kinder, better people to be grandparents to her children, and that alone reminded her that this move had given the girls something irreplaceable.

As she walked up the stairs of the porch, the door swung open. Melissa came bouncing out and threw her arms around Olivia's legs.

Olivia was surprised by that kind of exuberance from her quiet one. “Hey Lissa, everything okay?”

Melissa's eyes shone as she gazed up at her mother. “Mommy, we had so much fun!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper as if speaking out loud might ruin it.

Olivia smiled, stroking her daughter's hair. “I'm really glad. Why don't we go inside where it's warm, and you can tell me all about it.”

She let Melissa lead her inside, where she took off her coat and boots. She could hear Lucy and Jackie in the kitchen, but instead of leading Olivia there, Melissa pulled her along to the study. The walls in the big room were lined with bookshelves. The furniture was comfortable Western style, overstuffed leather sofas and chairs, a large oak desk, cowhide rugs.

Thomas was sitting in an armchair, reading glasses perched on his nose, a photo album in his hands.

“There she is,” he said with a warm smile. “We've been watching out the windows for you.” He winked.

“I hear you've had a lot of fun this afternoon,” Oliva said, sitting on the sofa adjacent to his chair. She blinked in surprise when Melissa went over to Thomas and climbed onto his lap as if she did it every day.

Thomas moved the photo album aside to make room for his granddaughter and wrapped an arm around her casually. “Well, you want to tell your mama what we've been up to?” he asked.

Melissa turned to Olivia and began a recitation of their activities that included visiting the barn and learning the names of all the tack for the horses—and the names of all the horses, of course—then a trip to the attic to play dress-up in their late grandmother's wedding dress, a lesson in how to cut the end off a cigar—”but grandpa's not allowed to smoke them, just chew them”—and finally story time with the photo album that was all about Daddy.

By the time the recitation was over, Olivia's eyes were burning with unshed tears, and she had to pause before she could comment on any of it. “That's—” she cleared her throat. “That's the best day I've heard about in a long time.” She looked Thomas in the eye. “I can't thank you enough.”

He smiled gently at her. “It's only the first of lots of days, we hope. I haven't had this much fun in years.”

“And did your sister do all those things with you?” Olivia asked.

“Just the barn and the dress-up. Then she wanted to go plant the herbs in the kitchen and bake cookies.” Melissa gazed up at Thomas adoringly. “But I wanted to stay with Grandpa. Grandma Lucy says next time we can trade—and also, I still get to eat the cookies even though I didn't bake them.”

Thomas laughed. “And I bet if you ran into the kitchen, Grandma Lucy has some all ready for eating, along with a big glass of milk.”

Melissa looked at her mom. “You'd better run,” Olivia said, unable to hold back a laugh. “I'll be right behind you.”

Melissa ran out of the room, and Olivia moved to stand as well, but Thomas interrupted her exit.

“The girls say they haven't seen much of Tate since those first couple days,” he said somberly.

Olivia hesitated, not sure how to handle the situation. She didn't want Tate to think she'd complained about him to his parents. And while Thomas and Lucy had been perfectly respectful of boundaries up until now, she wanted to make sure that continued. She knew it wouldn't be appropriate to let them interfere in whatever was happening in Tate's house.

“You don't have to worry about telling me the truth,” Thomas seemed to be reading her thoughts. “I'm not trying to interfere, but I do know my son.” He sighed and set the photo album on the coffee table as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Melissa reminds me so much of him as a kid. The way she observes everything so carefully. She wants to learn, and she doesn't want to try anything until she's sure she can do it perfectly.”

Olivia was floored by how well he already knew her child.

“Tate was like that from the start. But…well, it got worse after we lost his mama.” She saw him swallow hard. “Anne was an angel. Brought this quiet and peace to everything she did.” He cleared his throat. He obviously still had strong feelings for his late wife. “When Anne died, I wasn't prepared for what it meant to Tate. I did the things I understood needed to be done—I kept him busy, made sure I was always here for him when he got home from school, learned how to cook some of the things his mama used to make. But I thought as long as he wasn't acting out or telling me he was upset, that meant he was doing fine.”

Olivia reached over and gave Thomas's knee a squeeze. “I'm sure you did everything you could. It must have been such a hard time for both of you.”

“What I didn't realize was that for a kid like Tate—a kid like Melissa—if you don't find a way to help them say what they're feeling…” He shrugged. “They won't.”

Olivia didn't know how to respond, didn't know what he wanted her to say, so she just waited.

“But I've been Tate's father for over three decades, and for many of those I was his only parent. Over time, I've come to realize what he hasn't been able to say—my son struggles to connect with people. Deep down, I think he's afraid to care for anyone because he knows how much it hurts to lose someone you love.”

Olivia made a strange sound in her throat as tears threatened to spill.

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