She imagined the cozy cabin they would build for Cynthia and Nathaniel. She loved the idea of having friends so close. Yes, they were employees, but they were also friends, and they mattered to her.
Elaina’s fingers pressed into the dough, firm and sure, as she rolled it flat on the kitchen table. A dusting of flour coated the surface like the first snowfall, and the scent of molasses and spices hung thick in the air. Beside her, Cynthia lifted cookie cutters—a star, a tree, a bell—and pressed them into the gingerbread with a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat.
“Perfect,” Elaina murmured, eyeing the shapes they’d created. Her hands worked almost mechanically, comforted by the task’s simplicity. It had been hours since she’d seen Steven, his presence in the house dwindling with each passing day as he retreated to the barn, absorbed in tasks he didn’t share.
“Has he mentioned anything to you?” Elaina asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern as she glanced toward the window where the barn stood.
“Steven? Not a word,” Cynthia replied, her tone light, though her eyes flicked up to meet Elaina’s with an understanding that spoke volumes.
“Perhaps he’s just busy,” Cynthia offered, but the words did little to ease the knot in Elaina’s stomach.
“Perhaps,” Elaina echoed, but the uncertainty lingered like a stubborn chill. She wanted to believe it was nothing more than the pressures of the ranch. And yet, part of her feared it was something more personal, a rift growing between them.
The oven door creaked as Elaina opened it and slid the tray of cookies inside, the gingerbread destined to become the walls and roof of a surprise she hoped would make Steven feel like he was home for the holidays.
As they worked, Cynthia chattered about the upcoming Christmas festivities, her cheerfulness a balm to the worry that gnawed at Elaina’s mind. They talked of Nathaniel and his new role as foreman, the pride in Cynthia’s voice unmistakable when she spoke his name.
“Imagine, if we had our own cabin,” Cynthia said, her eyes aglow with the dream of it. Elaina smiled, sharing in her friend’s joy, even as her own heart ached for the closeness of a true love match.
“Your cabin will be the heart of the ranch,” Elaina assured her. “But you need to marry first.” She winked at her friend, who laughed.
Elaina’s boots crunched against the freshly fallen snow as she strode purposefully across the yard to where Steven and Beau were conferring beside a towering fir. The sky above was a crisp cerulean, a stark contrast to the white blanket that draped over the landscape. With her breath frosting in the chilly air, Elaina called out to them, her voice ringing clear.
“Beau, we’re planning a small gathering for Christmas Eve. Nathaniel, Cynthia, and the Johnsons will be joining us. Can we count on you as well?”
Beau tipped his hat back and flashed a grin as wide as the horizon. “Wouldn’t miss it, ma’am.”
“Good,” Elaina replied. “And we’ll need a tree. One worthy of the celebration.”
Without another word, Steven turned to the fir and, with an axe in hand, set about his task.
Meanwhile, Elaina returned to the warmth of the kitchen where Cynthia waited with bowls of popcorn and cranberries. Together, they sat by the table, threading needle after needle through the fluffy white kernels and the glossy red berries. The repetitive motion was soothing, and each completed string brought a sense of progress, of something festive taking shape.
“Imagine how lovely these will look, draped around the tree,” Cynthia mused, her blue eyes sparkling like the icicles hanging from the eaves outside.
“I can’t wait. My father never wanted a tree in the house,” Elaina agreed, though her gaze kept drifting toward the window, watching Steven. Each time she glanced out, her heart tugged a little harder. What was it that took him to the barn so often?
“Are you worried about him?” Cynthia’s gentle inquiry pulled Elaina back from her reverie.
“Perhaps,” Elaina admitted, her fingers pausing in their work. “He’s been...distant lately.”
“Men have their own ways,” Cynthia said with a knowing smile. “But he’ll come around, especially tonight. No one can resist the spirit of Christmas Eve.”
Elaina wanted to believe her. She threaded another cranberry onto the string, hoping that each small thing she did to prepare for Christmas would bring them closer together.
Outside, the sound of the axe ceased, and after a moment, the fir fell with a soft whoosh, its descent muffled by the snow.
“Looks like we’ll have our tree,” Elaina murmured, more to herself than to Cynthia. And perhaps, with the tree and the party, a chance to mend what seemed frayed between her and Steven. She wanted everything to feelrightagain.
“Let’s go help him bring it in,” Cynthia suggested, setting aside her work and standing up.
“All right,” Elaina said, a determined spark igniting within her.
*****
THE FRESHLY CUT FIRtree stood in the corner of the living area, its branches reaching out as if to embrace the warmth of the room. Elaina stepped back, her hands on her hips, and examined their handiwork. The popcorn and cranberry garlands draped over the boughs like a festive shawl, while the soft glow from the fireplace danced across the handmade ornaments that adorned the greenery.
“Looks like it’s missing something,” Cynthia remarked, her gaze following Elaina’s.
