Red peeled off the Santa jacket and flopped into his recliner with a loud sigh. Benny ran upstairs—with the phone, of course.
Just as he was ready to return to his nap, he heard Benny let out a hoot. Oh, yeah. He was “babysitting.”
“What is it?” he called without moving.
“We got followers! Five of them in just a few minutes! I must have used the right hashtags!”
Red had no idea what he was talking about, but did someone say hash? He needed a snack after all that work.
He ambled into the kitchen and paused for a moment, for once not forgetting why he’d come in the room. No, he stopped because he was hit with a hammer of love again.
He’d lived in this house his entire eighty-two years on Earth. He knew every worn floorboard, basked in the soft light, and barely noticed the mismatched furniture collected over generations.
He looked around the kitchen, at the original knotty pine cabinets Pa built by hand. And out the back porch, where he had a view of the lodge grounds, the cabins, and—on clear mornings—all the way to the snowy ridge that cradled Park City.
Benny wanted a puppy…but Red wanted to keep his home.
So, no, he wasn’t going to hang up his Santa hat this year. And if Benny wanted him grumpy, he’d be the grumpiest Santa ever.
He stroked his soft old beard and let out a sigh.
The moment Nicole left the airport in Burlington, Vermont, she inhaled crisp, pine-laced air, marveling that something could be both familiar and jarring. It smelled like mountains, felt a little like home, but…everything was different.
Like the Salt Lake Valley, Burlington was surrounded by mountains, but instead of the jagged, majestic drama of the Rockies, Vermont pleased the eye with more moderate slopes.
To the east, the Green Mountains rose gently against the horizon, the distinctive profile of Camel’s Hump easy to see as she stepped through the terminal doors. To the west, the beautiful Adirondacks stood layered against the sky, hugged by Lake Champlain.
She totally understood why Dad had moved to Vermont after the divorce, and it wasn’t just because his always adventurous parents had come back East to retire in their golden years. It had an earthy mountain atmosphere with beautiful views, with the added touch of quaint New England ambiance.
It was close to his heart, but not the mountain home where he’d grown up. And, deep down, Nicole hoped that little fact would help her on her own “Operation Sleigh Bells.” Only hermission would be a whole lot more challenging than Benny’s had been.
“Hey, Nic!”
She turned at the sound of her father’s voice, spotting him in the arrival waiting lanes. He waved, opening the driver’s door of his white Tacoma.
“Stay there,” she called. “I’m coming.”
Shouldering her tote and dragging her rolling bag, she navigated the traffic and kept her eyes on her father who, as always, looked great. Jack Kessler was a handsome sixty-year-old, tall and broad, carrying off the puffer jacket and baseball cap with the ease of a man half his age.
His hair had turned mostly silver over the ten years since he’d left Utah, and a lifetime of skiing had made him fit and strong.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite ski bum who doesn’t ski,” he said, reaching out his arms to hug her.
Good heavens,thatdidn’t take long. Nicole rolled her eyes, but he didn’t see it as they hugged. “Got that one out of the way,” she said. “Can we stop now?”
He chuckled as he gave her a squeeze, and she was reminded that his bear hugs always made her feel about eight years old again. Parting, he smiled, searching her face with eyes the same espresso brown that she saw in the mirror every morning.
She favored him in so many ways—her coloring, her attitude, and, yes, her skiing skills.
So, she should forgive the ski comments. She could have been a great competitive skier, like her father, but one cold and tragic day in January nineteen years ago changed all that. And the guilt for the role he’d played in that accident by pushing her too hard and too fast was never far from the surface for him.
After he tossed her bags in the back, she climbed into the truck. The cab was warm, country music playing low. With somesmall talk about Thanksgiving and the weather and those first awkward moments of reunion behind them, they pulled away from the airport and headed into the quaint city of Burlington.
The road was flanked by snowy pines and colonial-style homes, all decorated for Christmas with the first of the evening lights starting to twinkle. As they drove and chatted, she let her mind wrap around the request she’d been forming the entire two flights it took to get here.
When would she ask? How? What would he say? It was either completely out of the question or…yeah, he’d help save Snowberry Lodge.
She’d have to wait for the perfect moment.
