Benny giggled and slapped some gray tape on a very badly wrapped box. They worked in a companionable silence for a bit, then headed out for phase two of what Benny called his “special mission.”
He was certain that decorating a useless sleigh would somehow translate into a puppy his mother didn’t want to add to her long list of responsibilities. And Red could see that the sleigh might attract customers, which were apparently in very short supply.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling but the yard still sparkled with a fresh coat of white powder, clean and pristine under the late afternoon light. The sleigh—old, red, and charmingly beat-up—had been dragged to a nice spot in front of the ski shed.
It wasn’t shiny and all decked out, but it looked better than Red for its age—and they were probably about the same eighty-two years old. That thing had been around Snowberry Lodge for as long as he could remember.
With the Santa jacket providing the only warmth he needed, he hoisted up some wrapped packages on to the seats. Yeah, they looked like the entire elf crew had been inebriated while they worked. But it was festive enough.
After that, he and Benny started threading string lights along the sides of the sleigh. Red’s arthritic fingers weren’t much help with the tiny plastic clips, but he did what he could.
“Careful with those cords,” he warned the boy. “Last time I got zapped, I smelled like burnt chestnuts for a week.”
“It’s not even plugged in,” Benny said. “And these are LEDs. They barely get warm. Plus, I can put an app on your phone so you can turn them on and off right from your recliner.”
“Please don’t,” he said.
After twenty minutes of grumbling, laughing, and Benny stringing extension cords like he had an electrician’s license, the sleigh sparkled with twinkle lights, candy cane ribbons, and pretend presents.
Two massive gold bells, meant for the horse, hung from the front with a wreath Benny had “borrowed” from one of the cabin doors.
“There.” Benny clapped his hands. “Now you have to sit in it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want a picture.” He waved Red’s phone, which spent a lot more time in Benny’s hands than his own. “You’re Santa. Come on, just for one picture.”
He didn’t like it, but he climbed into the front, lifting the reins.
“I wish we could get Copper,” Benny said.
“He’d just fuss,” Red replied, easing into the seat. “That horse never liked the sleigh.” The leather was cold and stiff, not comfortable at all. He slouched, stretched his legs, and tugged the hat lower over his eyes.
“Can I nap now?”
Benny held up his phone. “Say cheese, Santa.”
Red scowled and Benny giggled.
“You look mad.”
“I am mad. I was born mad, and this dang itchy jacket makes me madder. You’re lucky I like you, son.”
Benny kept fiddling with the phone. “Okay, keep talking like that. Say something like Santa would.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something Christmasy. Pretend you’re doing a commercial for the Snowberry Lodge that would get people to come here.”
Red groaned. “I don’t like people,” he said dryly.
“Grandpa!”
“Okay, okay.” He sat up straighter. “Merry whatever you want to call it. Come spend money at the Snowberry Lodge. We got ski stuff, good food, pretty views, and a sleigh that probably won’t collapse under your mother-in-law. No promises, though. Ho ho hono.”
Benny burst out laughing. Then, still snickering, he tapped something on his phone. “I’m making you an account.”
“Like at a bank?”
