Red felt his face form a scowl. “People. Who wants them?”
“Aunt Cindy and Grandma MJ!” he exclaimed. “’Cause if we don’t have more people, we’re going to move! To another house! Not Snowberry Lodge. Can you imagine that, Grandpa?”
Now that was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. He’d been born on this land, and he’d die here. He’d lived in this very house, a two-story timber-framed family home near the edge of the property, from birth to…that last nap.
His pa, Owen Starling, had built this as the family house on the property when he had the foresight to turn the original residence into Snowberry Lodge.
With its pitched metal roof, wide covered porch, and weathered cedar siding, Starling House, as it was known, had a quiet sturdiness that came from decades of lived-in love.
Red rubbed the back of his neck, a slow, dark worry crawling up his chest. They liked to keep things from him, those daughters of his. Didn’t want to worry him. Never wanted to stress his old heart.
What was this all about? Were they going to move the three of them into some kind of cookie-cutter condo and try to rent this place for extra money?
“What in the world does a sleigh have to do with that?” he asked, sensing that his great-grandson—the single smartest whip Red had ever met—knew more than he was letting on.
Benny’s face grew serious, but then this was Benny. Serious was his middle name—along with internet, apps, and all that other stuff that made Red’s teeth itch.
“I heard Aunt Cindy last night. She was talking to Grandma MJ and said something about selling Snowberry. Said we might have to close the lodge. And then we’d all have to move.”
Selling…Snowberry Lodge?The floor dropped out from under Red’s stomach, and he reached for the doorjamb to steady himself. “What?”
“So, Nicole said we need to decorate the sleigh.” He lifted a snarled mess of lights. “We have to, Grandpa!”
“No need to sound desperate.”
“I am desperate, because get this!” He danced on his toes as if he couldn’t contain himself. “If we get enough business, Aunt Cindy is going to get me a puppy!”
Red drew back. “Your mama know that?”
“Aunt Cindy said she didn’t care,” he said confidently. “So we have to decorate the sleigh and get people here. Don’t you see, Grandpa?”
He couldn’t see anything but…selling Snowberry? He’d do anything to stop that. Anything.
“And this looks like something you’d be really good at,” he prattled on, handing him a nest of Christmas lights. “I borrowed your phone while you were snoring and asked the AI app, but it didn’t help me untangle Christmas lights.”
He groaned. That dang phone. He hated everything about it and gave it to Benny whenever he needed something. Gracie didn’t like that, though. She had a hard and fast “no phone” rule for the boy, which Red tried to respect but, dang, sometimes he needed Benny’s help to work that stinking device.
Red held up the knotted lights. “God himself doesn’t know how to untangle these beasts.”
“You can do it, Grandpa,” Benny said. “You’re Red Starling. You can do anything.”
Red felt a smile pull as he looked down at the kid, not sure if that was a crock of hooey or hero worship. Either way, he fell for it.
“I’m going to wrap the fake presents,” Benny announced, pulling out a roll of…was that duct tape?
With a ragged sigh, Red looked at the lights, the mess of boxes, but his focus fell on the old fur jacket lying across the ottoman like a lazy dog. Oh, the Santa outfit he climbed into every blasted year because he had the good fortune to be fat, bald, and sport a six-inch beard that had turned whiter than the snow that fell last night.
That jacket, that role—the whole month, to be honest—was the bane of Red’s existence. He was so darn sick of ho-ho-hoing those little greedy bra…kids.
But if things at the lodge were that bad? Well, yeah. Red didn’t shy away from his responsibilities. That didn’t mean he liked them, though.
Stepping into the mess, he grabbed the jacket and slipped it on, smelling the musk of the attic mixed with the lingering scent of peppermint and pine.
“It still fits.” He pulled the front around his belly and tugged at the slight gap. “Almost.”Oh, Gracie.Why did his granddaughter have to own the best bakery in Park City and bring her leftovers to him?
Benny made a face. “The belt will hold it together.”
Red chuckled despite himself and let the jacket hang open. “All right. What do you need me to do? Let’s make it fast…” He picked up the old Santa hat and pulled it on his bald head. “’Fore I turn you into an elf.”
