"Something like that."
My phone buzzes with a text.
Survive the flight?
Ty
Barely. Now trapped in car purgatory.
At least you're trapped with her. Progress.
Ty
I roll my eyes and pocket my phone as Margaret turns around from the passenger seat.
"The Harper cabin should be just beyond the next bend. We're about five minutes away from ours."
Charlie tenses beside me, her fingers fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve. The Harpers. Ethan. Right.
I slide my hand over hers, stilling her nervous movement. "Are you okay?" I mimic her question back to her, my voice low enough that only she can hear.
"Perfect," she replies, the word clipped. "Just peachy."
Emily leans forward from her seat behind us. "Mom, did Mrs. Patricia mention if they've already arrived?"
"They got in yesterday," Margaret says.
Charlie's hand flips under mine, her fingers interlacing with my own. A silent request for support that feels anything but fake. I squeeze gently.
"There they are!" Richard announces as we round the bend.
Through the windshield, I spot a ritzy mountain retreat that looks like it belongs on a holiday card. The Harper cabin is all weathered timber and stone, impossibly grand with soaring windows and a wraparound deck. Wreaths hang from every window—not simple pine circles but elaborate creations with velvet ribbons and glittering ornaments that catch the afternoon sun. The driveway is already cleared of snow, and icicle lights dangle perfectly from the eaves.
A couple stands on the wraparound porch—a trim man with dark hair and a blonde woman, both waving enthusiastically as we pass by.
"The infamous Ethan," Emily murmurs, and I feel Charlie's grip tighten.
"And Olivia," she adds, voice flat.
"You're prettier." I lean over and whisper.
She turns to me with a surprised laugh. "You haven't even seen her up close."
"Don't need to."
"And here we are!" Richard announces as we pull onto a secluded road winding up through a stand of towering pines. "Home sweet home for the next week."
The SUV rounds a final curve, and I'm impressed by what comes into view. I've stayed in some impressive places during my pro days, but this is something else entirely.
"Holy shit," I whisper under my breath.
She grins. "The Whitaker-Harper annual Christmas extravaganza doesn't mess around."
The house sits proudly on the mountainside, three stories of natural wood and stone that looks both rustic and luxurious. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate the front, and a massive stone chimney stretches upward from a wraparound porch dusted with fresh snow.
"It's been in the family for years," Charlie explains quietly. "My parents have renovated it bit by bit. Used to be a normal-sized cabin once upon a time."
"Nothing normal-sized about it now," I say, gaping as Richard pulls into the circular driveway.
