“Or maybe they can’t see you because they’re grownups, right?” Megan adds. “Only children can see you.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, they’re all kissy, kissy anyway, so you can finish deco—” George stops and looks at me. “Who’s he? Is that your boss? He doesn’t look like an elf.”
Megan gasps. “Is that…Santa?” And then she hushes again. “Is he supervising you to make sure you do a good job? Are you going to get a promotion? My daddy got a promotion at work.”
“Your dad works for Santa?” Bubble asks, and I groan.
“Curtis, has it occurred to you to question who these children are, where they came from, and how they got through the door?”
Bubble stares at me like he’s about to state the obvious. “They’re Gigi and Megan. They’re probably staying in another cabin and got in because you didn’t close the door all the way.”
“And I’m alsoprobablySanta Claus.”
Both kids squeal. “Are you really?” George asks.
“Who’s really what? In trouble for not helping out? You both are,” a deep voice says before a tall guy comes into the cabin holding two large boxes.
A slimmer guy with long blond hair carrying a suitcase follows him. “I can’t believe we made it, bab—”
Bubble is rooted in place as the two guys put their stuff down and slowly come to the realization they’re not alone.
“Daddy,” Megan says, pulling the hand of the bigger guy. He crouches to her level, and she whispers something in his ear. He frowns and then looks at the other guy holding onto George.
“We’ll see, sweetheart. I’m not sure we have enough room for…um…elves to stay until Christmas…or Santa.”
Bubble takes a small step backward like he’s feeling intimidated or unsure, which I never thought I’d see in him. He always looks so confident and unrattled.
“Hi, I’m not sure what’s happening, but who are you?” he asks.
“I’m pretty sure we’re the ones who should be asking that, but for the sake of making this less awkward, I’m Fletcher Crawford, this is Harrison, and I own this cabin. You are?”
Bubble opens and closes his mouth, looking at both men and then at me before looking back at the Fletcher guy.
“You’re Mr. and Mrs. Crawford’s son and fiancé?”
Fletcher nods.
Bubble sags against the kitchen counter.
“I’m Bubble. I work at the coffee shop your parents often visit in Chester Falls. They kindly offered to let me stay here for Christmas. My friend was coming to stay with me, but her flight was canceled. They said you’d be in Florida.”
Harrison shakes his head, and Fletcher looks apologetic.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. When they told us about their traveling idea, we knew that if we said we were coming here for Christmas, they’d cancel their plans to stay with us. We knew how important this trip was to them.” He looks at his partner. “So I made up a little white lie.”
“We’re going to Disneyworld in the spring, right, Daddy? After your honeymoon?” Megan asks.
“Yes, honey. We are.”
“We’re not allowed to lie,” George says matter-of-factly. “It’s a really bad thing, but Daddy explained it was okay just this one time because it was to help Grandma and Grandad.”
Fletcher smiles at his kid, and I can’t help smiling too.
“Well,” Bubble says, a little too chirpy. “It’s a good thing I’ve changed the bedsheets already, isn’t it? Do you mind if I hang around to pack up my stuff? I’ll be out of your way in no time.” Then he crouches to the kids’ level. “I’ll even bake you some chocolate-chip cookies before I go.” Then as if he remembers I’m in the room, he turns to me. “I’m sorry, Coach. It looks like I’m leaving earlier than I expected. Maybe we can catch up when school starts…or whenever?”
“Um…yeah, sure.” I walk to the door and put my boots on, tucking in the laces instead of bothering to do them up since it’s only a short walk to my cabin.
I take one last look at Bubble and leave.
