“Who died?” he croaked.
“No one, I hope,” Gracie shot back. “Bianca’s screaming outside and I need to make sure you’renotout there pretending to be Bigfoot.”
Red blinked. Then blinked again, trying to make sense of the accusation. “Why would I—? Sweet fancy Moses, you don’t think Benny…”
“I hope not,” she said dryly. “Because you’ll both be grounded for a year.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Guilt by association.”
They hurried to Benny’s room, Red shuffling in his pajamas and thick wool socks. Gracie cracked Benny’s door open, bracing herself.
Her little boy was sprawled across the bed, mouth open, drooling on his pillow, breathing in that unmistakably deep, unshakeable sleep of an eleven-year-old who’d spent the evening with sheep, goats, and baby Jesus in the snow.
Gracie let out a shaky breath of relief.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Good. Stay here with him. I’ll go see what’s going on.”
Red nodded, still bleary. “Call me if you need an ambulance or a bat to clobber Bigfoot.”
“Not funny.” She headed toward the stairs, her mind spinning.
If Benny and Red weren’t behind whatever Bianca saw, then what could possibly have terrified her in the dark?
She snagged her jacket from the hook by the kitchen door, stuck her feet in boots, and stepped into the quiet, frigid night.
A thick layer of snow from a few hours ago coated the ground, fresh enough that her boots sank deeply with every step. The air hung blue and breathless, that hour when the world felt unreal and still.
She was halfway to the lodge when a thick cloud covered the moon and she reached for her?—
Dang. Her phone was next to her bed. She hurried down the trail toward the cabins, breath puffing white as she imagined what might have unfolded.
Had Bianca run tohim? Screaming in the middle of the night just to get his attention?
Or—what if Bianca really was pregnant and something had gone wrong? What if she was bleeding or in pain? Of course she’d go to Marshall.
Her breath faltered as she remembered how they’d ended the evening.
She had barely had a chance to talk to Marshall after the Live Nativity. She’d driven home with Red and Benny, who conked out in the van. She had to get him to bed and then returned to get the cabin key for Marshall, who was in Bianca’s cabin doing…midnight presents.
The last thing she heard was Bianca begging Marshall to stay and help her put Olivia to bed on Christmas Eve—just like the old days!
Marshall, apologetic and visibly uncomfortable, had accepted the key Gracie handed him for Cabin Two and softly promised they’d talk tomorrow.
It was possible Bianca was just drumming up drama and sympathy and was, right now, in the arms of her ex-husband getting comfort…and setting her evil plans in motion.
The prospect made Gracie’s stomach roll—not that she thought Marshall would fall for it. Not a bit. But still…everything about that woman was unsettling.
Gracie cut across the path and rounded the corner toward the cabins. Just as she had Marshall’s cabin in sight, she spotted Bianca launching up the stairs to his door.
She pounded on the wood with both fists.
“Marshall!” Bianca shrieked into the silent night. “Help me! There’s a bear! Marsh!”
A few seconds later, the door opened and Marshall, sleepy-eyed and wearing only flannel sleep pants, blinked at her. “Bianca? What?—”
She launched herself closer. “Please! It’s still out here!”
