Red still wasn’t sure if it was a Christmas miracle or sheer dumb luck.
Jack glanced over. “Ready?”
Red grunted. “As long as I don’t have to put that itchy jacket on and pretend to like kids, I’ll ride this thing all day.”
“You don’t like being Santa, Red?”
“I’m over it, as the kids say. Too old, too tired, too…well, I guess you can’t be too fat to be Santa.”
“You’re not any of those things.” Jack clicked his tongue and gave the reins a tug. Copper took a few tentative steps, then found his rhythm. “You’re Grumpy Santa, king of social media.”
Red snorted. “I don’t quite get why, but it’s working,” he said. “Benny told me this morning we have another thousand followers.”
“And no one knows yet? Not Cindy or MJ?”
Red held up his hand. “Let’s keep it that way, Jack. The kid wants a dog so bad for Christmas, and he’s sure that his mom will be furious at him—and me—for playing with the phone. She’s adamant about him not having one of those things, or access to mine.”
“That’s strict,” Jack noted.
“She’s a single mother,” Red said, rising to his granddaughter’s defense. “She has to be strict. Benny knows if he strays too far from the rules, it’ll cost him his doggo.”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t be on social media accruing thousands of followers,” Jack said with a wry smile.
“Maybe not. But we’re in a bind so bad that you left…whatever it is you have in Vermont and flew here to run this sleigh.”
Jack slid him a look, not answering.
“And I,” Red continued, “agreed to put that stupid jacket on once more and promise to give kids toys they might not ever get.”
That made Jack smile while Red leaned back, sparing a glance at one of the cabins, seeing a lone gentleman step outside Cabin Five and raise his hand in greeting.
“We’re all doing something, taking a risk, upsettin’ our lives—all for Snowberry Lodge.”
“That’s true,” Jack agreed.
“So’s Benny. We’ll come clean on Christmas morning—right about the time he’s holding a new puppy.”
“I get it,” Jack said. “The secret is safe.”
Copper slowed again, but Jack flicked the reins, and the horse picked up the pace, pulling the sleigh around the bend of the last cabin, headed toward the open trail that curved behind the property.
“This place looks great,” Jack observed, squinting into the bright winter sun bouncing off the snow.
“Naturelooks great,” Red corrected as they came around the long drive to the house where he lived with Gracie and Benny. “The place is…old, like I am.”
“Looks pretty good to me,” Jack said.
Red tried to see his home of eighty-two years through another man’s eyes, and he had to admit, it did look like a fine place.
The rolling hills around Snowberry Lodge stretched wide and white in front of them, soft mounds of snow blanketing the fields and trees dusted with frost.
Of course, he knew every inch of this land. His entire life was pressed into this land—hard winters, achingly beautiful summers, the smell of pine and earth, the laughter of kids who’d grown up in the middle of Utah’s breathtaking landscape.
“Vermont’s pretty and all,” Jack said, his gaze traveling the same path as Red’s, his thoughts maybe on their own journey. “But this piece of the country is spectacular.”
At the wistful note in Jack’s voice, Red eyed him carefully, trying to gauge what the man was really feeling.
Red cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on old hurts. If Cindy could get over it, then he could, too. Plus, Jack had come to help them, and that meant something to Red. Meant a lot.
