Page 53 of Christmas at the Ranch
“Hello,” she says brightly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I come bearing gifts—my parents and I wanted to thank you for the article in theEnquirer’s special holiday section.”
“Please, that isn’t necessary,” I say. “That was probably the most incredible meal I’ve ever had in my life. I think I oweyou.”
“But we’re so grateful,” she says, holding out the basket. “We were wondering how to get the news about the secret menu out there, and you did such a great job. Please, accept the gift.”
I step back and invite her in, taking the basket from her arms. Inside it is a jade-green pottery teapot with matching pottery cups, so delicate and lovely they make me gasp.
“This is gorgeous,” I say. “It’s way too much.”
Mya shakes her head. “We’re happy to give this to you and Bruce. My parents got it the last time they were back home visiting relatives in China—and it will mean a lot to them for it to be here at the newspaper offices. I know Bruce loves his tea, so it will be put to good use.”
I feel a twinge thinking about Bruce on his own once I leave, enjoying his tea. Mya is looking at me thoughtfully, as if she can tell what I’m thinking.
“Why don’t we use it now? Are you in the mood for tea?”
“Definitely.” I find that I don’t want to be alone after reading about Tate’s mom.
I prepare the tea, then we take the pot and our cups over to one of the desks—but on the way over, she stops. She’s seen the articles I was reading.
“Oh,” she says, putting the teapot down.
“I just found out how his mother died,” I say, and swallow hard over the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know, before…it’s so sad.”
Mya lifts one of the articles and reads it over, then puts it down on the desk again, carefully smoothing it. When she looks up, I see her eyes are shining with emotion.
“It was so awful,” she says. “I remember it like it was yesterday. Mrs.Wilder was the most wonderful woman.We all thought she’d pull through. It was a shock to the community when she passed.” She’s silent for a long moment. Then she blinks a few times, picks the teapot up again, and heads over to an empty desk. “Come,” she says. “Let’s have this before it gets cold.”
We sit down. Then she looks me in the eye and says, “So. You and Tate. What’s going on?”
My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”
“Emory, come on. I found you in here, alone, reading articles about his mother’s tragic death. When I mentioned his name just now, your face changed entirely. You two had dinner at our restaurant, and the electricity in the air nearly shorted the place out, never mind the school project I was working on. And Tate…” But she shakes her head. “I shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what?”
“Betray his confidences. He’s one of my oldest friends. I’ve known him since I was five. Except…” She sips her tea, quietly thoughtful again. “Well, I love the guy, but I might not be able to trust him to do the right thing here.”
“You mean cut me loose, right? Don’t worry, he already did that. I felt like we were starting to get close again—but last night, he made it clear that we, together, have no place in the present.” I swallow tea, give myself a beat to put my feelings into words. “I should have gotten over Tate a long time ago.”
Mya surprises me by putting down her cup and throwing up her hands in frustration. “Are you serious? God, you’re just as deluded as he is! I say this with affection, because I really do like you, but it’s nowonder you two have taken nearly a decade to figure this out. You’re both ridiculous.” Then she clasps her hands together. “I’m sorry. I can be a bit harsh, but this needs saying. And forget loyalty to Tate. You two are clearly never going to get where you need to be on your own, without a little prodding.” She takes out her phone, types something out, then puts it down again.
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head. “You know, I really thought you were smarter than this. But let me spell it out: Tate has never gotten over you, either.”
My heart stutters.
“That’s not true.” I deny her words even as a kernel of sunlight appears in my clouded heart.
“Are you sure about that?” she asks me.
“Positive,” I say as Mya rolls her eyes.
“You two,” she murmurs. “Honestly.Have you seen the way he’s been acting since you came to town? Like no time at all has passed.”
“If you mean he’s still shutting me out, then you’re right—it feels like no time has passed at all.”
“And here my parents and I thought serving you that dinner would soften things between you. You think that was just a random assortment of food? Most of it was from the new menu, but the dumplings we served you are the exact dumplings my parents ate on their first date. They secretly call them the Falling in Love dumplings. But you two are a tough case.”
