We pile out and the air hits my lungs, crisp and pine-scented, immediately transporting me back to my childhood. I'd forgotten how much I missed the mountains.
I grab our bags from the trunk while Charlie hangs back, her breath forming small clouds in front of her face.
"Ready for this?" I ask, slinging my duffel over my shoulder and extending the handle of her rolling suitcase.
She takes a deep breath. "No. But let's do it anyway."
I lean down, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. Not for show—her parents are busy unlocking the front door, and Emily's distracted by her phone. I did it just because she looks like she needs it.
"Remember, I'm the one who should be nervous here," I say. "Meeting the ex while pretending to be the new boyfriend? That's high-stakes acting."
Her lips quirk up. "Trust me, you'll be fine. Just flash those baby blues and everyone will forget I exist."
"Not possible," I say, and mean it.
We trudge through ankle-deep snow toward the front porch steps.
The front door swings open to reveal a Christmas wonderland that puts every holiday catalog to shame. Rich pine and cinnamon scents envelop us as we step into a grand foyer with soaring ceilings and exposed wooden beams. A massive wreath adorned with pinecones, red berries, and a simple burlap bow hangs on the inside of the door.
I let out a long low whistle.
Charlie gives me a subtle nudge. "Mom goes a little overboard with Christmas decorations; she has a company come out and decorate before we arrive."
"A little?" I whisper back. "This looks like Santa's personal vacation home."
Elegant garlands wind up the curved staircase to our right, each adorned with twinkling white lights and sprigs of holly. The banister itself is wrapped in lush greenery interwoven with ribbons and more lights. Whoever decorated clearly has both taste and patience.
Margaret appears beside us, beaming with pride. "Sebastian, let me show you around.” She takes my arm. “Richard and I have been coming here for Christmas since before the girls were born, my great, great grandfather built this home and throughout the generations we've added to it bit by bit."
She leads us through to the great room where the true centerpiece of the holiday decor commands attention. A magnificent twenty-foot pine Christmas tree dominates the space, stretching nearly to the cathedral ceiling. It sparkles with hundreds of white lights and an assortment of ornaments that I can tell are a mix of elegant crystal pieces and handmade treasures from childhood.
"Every ornament has a story," Charlie murmurs close to my ear, as if reading my thoughts. "Half are embarrassing school projects."
I spot what looks like a popsicle stick frame with a gap-toothed Charlie inside and grin. "I'm going to need the story behind each one."
The rest of the great room continues the tasteful holiday theme. The massive stone fireplace is already crackling with a freshly built fire, its mantel decorated with more greenery, vintage glass ornaments, and delicate fairy lights. White candles of various heights sit among the arrangement, waiting to be lit.
Plush couches and chairs arranged around the fireplace look impossibly inviting after our travel day. Each has been dressed for the season with soft throw blankets in deep reds and greens, and pillows embroidered with subtle holiday motifs.
Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the entire back wall, showcasing a spectacular view of snow-covered mountains and pines. Someone has artfully arranged more greenery along the window frames, making it feel like the outdoors is simply an extension of this magical space.
Margaret claps her hands together. "Alright, everyone. Patricia texted me that they'll be here in about an hour for dinner, they're letting us get settled in first and I've already placed the order for the food."
Charlie tenses beside me at the mention of the Harpers again. I place my hand at the small of her back, a gesture that's becoming second nature despite being part of our act.
"Charlotte you'll have the Pine Room this year," Margaret announced. "And Sebastian will be with you, of course. It has beautiful natural lighting," she adds, then pauses. "That's alright, isn't it? I didn't even think to ask. We could always..."
"It's fine, Mom," Charlie interrupts quickly.
"Totally fine," I echo, giving what I hope is a convincing smile.
"Perfect!" Margaret beams. "Emily, you're in the Snowflake room across the hall. Your father and I will take the main suite on the first floor. Now everyone go settle in—dinner's at seven!"
I hoist my duffel onto my shoulder, falling into step beside Charlie as we climb the grand staircase. My fingers slide along the cool wrought-iron railing, tracing its intricate swirls while our boots sink into each carpeted step.Landscape photographs line the upstairs hallway. Frozen mountain scenes and sunset vistas that capture my gaze as we make our way down the plush runner.
Charlie freezes at a door at the end of the hallway. "The Pine Room," she murmurs.
She pushes it open, and I step inside behind her. My breath catches, a low whistle escaping my lips again. The room sprawls before us, more luxury suite than bedroom. A king-sized bed commands the center, buried under what must be the world's plushest comforter and a small mountain of pillows. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across one wall, bathing everything in golden afternoon light, with a private balcony visible through the glass. Soft sage green coats the walls, the color playing against natural wood trim. Tasteful paintings of pine forests and mountain landscapes hang at perfect intervals, completing the upscale woodland retreat vibe.
