I’m already on my feet too, the mystery pulling me in. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned this Christmas, it’s that sometimes the most important things aren’t where you expect to find them.
Sometimes they’ve been right in front of you for years, waiting to be discovered.
CHAPTER 10
REESE
Pookie’s squeak toy barking cuts through the lobby like a fire alarm and the chaos escalates from curious murmuring to full bedlam in about three seconds as I take charge.
“Everyone, please remain calm!” I call out while instructing Corbin to organize search parties.
Meanwhile, Noella’s Mrs. Claus Christmas Day outfit jingles frantically as she rushes around the tree, searching the floor as she describes the star in detail.
Hollis takes the perimeter.
I move into investigator mode, circling the massive tree with Rebecca right beside me. Other guests join in, peering under furniture and behind garlands.
“No glass on the floor,” I observe, crouching down. “If it fell and shattered, there’d be pieces everywhere.”
Rebecca kneels beside me, and I catch that chocolate scent that’s been driving me crazy for two days. “There are a few ornaments on the ground, but they’re not broken either.”
I pick up a red glass ball, examining it. “These look like they were knocked loose, not removed.”
“So someone took it?” asks an older gentleman in a reindeer sweater.
“Or it fell somewhere else,” Rebecca suggests.
A woman with a baby on her hip says, “Maybe someone moved it for cleaning?”
Noella wrings her hands and distress crimps her features. “That star has been with Timber’s Edge since our very first Christmas. It’s irreplaceable.”
She gathers everyone around, and her voice takes on the quality of someone telling a story around a campfire. “When we opened this inn thirty years ago, we wanted a symbol of hope. Something to guide weary travelers home, like the star guided the wise men to Bethlehem. That star has watched over every Christmas since, every family who’s found their way here through storms and difficult times, where we do our best to give them a reason to celebrate.”
The star isn’t solely a decoration—it’s a legacy.
“We have to find it,” Rebecca says with a determined glint in her eye. It’s the same one she had during the candy cane hunt.
Hollis pulls up outside the main doors with a golf cart. Noella continues to fret and they confer in low tones.
I offer, “I can drive around the property. Maybe it was somehow brought outside?” It’s a long shot, but better to cover all the ground we can before it gets dark.
“I’m coming with you,” Rebecca says. “And Pookie,”
The pug barks, which she interprets as enthusiasm.
The two of us pile into the golf cart—three if you count Pookie, who Rebecca tucks into her jacket. I gun it, and we’re off like a modern-day sleigh ride, bouncing over the shoveled paths around the lodge property.
“Check by the loading dock!” Rebecca calls.
We search everywhere—behind the maintenance shed, around the dumpsters (glamorous, I know), under the pavilion, and near the outdoor fire pit.
Corbin and other guests who aren’t combing the interior of the building join the search, spreading out across the property like we’re on an extreme scavenger hunt.
The golf cart winds past the frozen pond and around the back trails. We check every possible place the star could have gone, unless it’s lost in a snow ditch like Rebecca’s phone.
“This is snow much fun!” she hoots.
Despite everything, I grin.
