She’d fallen silent. “Sorry, I’m still here. Your plan sounds fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I’d like to see Travis and give him my best wishes—Maggie, too, if she’s still with him.”

“I’m guessing she will be. She hasn’t left his side.” He paused a moment. “I’ll see you on Sunday, then. You might not hear from me tomorrow. With the muddy mess at the ranch, Rush and I are moving the fire, cocoa, and marshmallow operation to Hank’s. We’ll probably keep it going there as long as there are customers tomorrow night.”

“No problem. I promised to take Daniel Christmas shopping after work to buy presents for Mom and Dad. So I’ll see you Sunday.”

“I’ll be there, looking forward. Sweet dreams.”

“Same to you.”

* * *

Megan ended the call and finished getting ready for bed. However, sleep wouldn’t come. Restless, she flung the covers aside, pattered across the floor, and lifted her guitar from its place in the corner. She’d been working on the song, on and off for days, hoping to have it ready for the Christmas Ball. But she wasn’t happy with what she’d done. Maybe something would come together now. Sitting on her bed in the dark, she began to strum and sing: “If you could read the secrets in my eyes, would you stay? Or would you walk, walk, walk away? If I could tell you what’s hidden in my heart, would you stay?”

She changed the chords from major to minor, moved the words around. No, something isn’t right. It sounds . . . fake. Like Lacy. She couldn’t imagine singing the song in front of an audience.

She knew that many of the big-name singers wrote their own songs. That was what she needed to get ahead in the business—an original song she could record. But this half-finished ballad wasn’t working. Maybe she was never going to write a good song. Maybe she should just give up.

With a weary sigh, she put the guitar aside and crawled back into bed. As she closed her eyes, she remembered the subtle premonition she’d had at the bridal shower—that this joyful season was just the time for something to go wrong. And now, something had gone wrong—something terrible.

Superstitious nonsense, she told herself. Bad things happen, that’s all. And when they do, there’s nothing to do but deal with them and move on.

But why did an awful accident like Travis’s have to happen at such a happy time?

She could feel herself drifting now. She would think about Sunday and being with Conner. Maybe that would lead to a good dream. And maybe, just maybe, that dream would come true.

* * *