Sarah must’ve noticed. She reached across the counter and touched my hand. “Max. Don’t let rumors rattle you.”
But they weren’t rumors. Not really. Not when the numbers on the last bank notice were burned into my memory.
I took a slow breath, nodded at Sarah, and stepped out into the cold. Duke met me by the truck, tail thumping in the snow.
“You hear that?” I asked him. “Developers.”
He licked my glove.
I climbed in and turned the key. The truck rumbled to life with a groan.
As I drove, I caught glimpses of the town gearing up for the season. Wreaths hung on lampposts, lights wound through fences, a couple of kids tossed snowballs outside the diner.
It was quiet. Still beautiful. And it wouldn’t last if the wrong people took over—not just for Starcrest, but for every small business, every family that relied on this town's beating heart.
I didn’t make it two blocks before I saw Sheriff Harris’s cruiser parked near the feed store. He rolled down his window when I pulled up.
“Mornin’, Max.”
“Mornin’, Sheriff.”
He nodded toward the passenger seat. “You heading back out to Starcrest?”
“Yeah.”
He scratched his jaw. “Just came from the bank. Thought you oughta know—they’ve moved the timeline up. Two weeks.”
I blinked. “Two weeks? What?” The words came out sharper than I intended, my chest suddenly tight.
“They’re sending someone out before Christmas. Said they need to ‘evaluate options.’”
My jaw clenched. “That’s not enough time.”
“I know.” His voice was steady. “But it’s what you’ve got.”
He gave me a long look. “Don’t wait too long to tell her, Max. I’ve seen what happens when places like Starcrest don’t have a fighter in the ring.”
I nodded once, then drove off, Duke leaning against my leg like he could feel the weight of it too.
Two weeks. That’s all we had before the heart of this place got carved up and sold off.
And I had no idea how to stop it.
Chapter 5 – The Christmas Conundrum
Ella
The moment Max stomped off toward the barn, muttering something about “chore schedules” and “fool ideas,” my hand instinctively reached for my notepad.
Lists were my lifeline. When everything spun out of control, I made lists. And right now? Everything was spinning like a snow globe on steroids.
To Do: Save Ranch.
No pressure.
I sat at the old kitchen table, sunlight, thin and pale, slanted through the cracked blinds, highlighting dust motes dancing in the chilly air. A half-eaten cinnamon twist from Clarkson’s sat next to my cold coffee. I'd been too wired to finish either. My pen scratched over the paper.
— Christmas Festival: Bake sale, craft booths, sleigh rides?
