He shouldered his bag and headed to the wide staircase. The wood risers were beautiful and shiny. The banister gleamed. Mary cared about this place—like his family cared about the reindeer.
His eyes grew heavy, but at least he could mark off one thing on his list—find a place to stay. Snowflake had to be close, and he was going to find her first thing tomorrow. Then he could head home and celebrate Christmas like a Nicholas should—surrounded by family.
* * *
The next morning, Forest landed at the bottom of the staircase and threw his hands out to the side. “How do I look?” he asked Mary in a teasing voice.
“Mr. Nicholas?” She gaped. Had she been a cartoon, he would have picked her jaw up off the floor for her with a snow shovel.
He ran his hand down his face, feeling the freshly cut beard go smooth. “One and the same.”
“You clean up nicely.”
“That’s what my mother tells me.”
She chuckled. “You missed breakfast, but the Belly-Up Café is just next door.”
He rubbed his hollow stomach. “Thanks. I’ll head right on over.”
He’d fallen into the flannel sheets last night, visions of home dancing in his head, and slept right on through to the next morning. The rest was just what he needed but also a problem. He’d planned to check out today with Snowflake in tow. Now, he just hoped to have time to find her before the sun set.
The sun gleamed off the snow, making him shade his eyes the moment he stepped onto the wide wraparound porch. The B&B was situated on the end of First Street and decorated for the holidays with white lights all around, a wreath on the door, and a sign out front that read “Santa Stop Here.” A wide, open lawn was broken up with several flower beds, which he could picture full of color come spring. His mom loved to garden too. She and Mary would get along.
He set out on foot, happy to leave his truck parked in the gravel lot. The day was cold, and his breath puffed out around him. He tucked his chapped hands into his coat pockets. The sidewalks were wet and crunchy with blue ice melt. Across the street was a hardware store. He’d need to stop in there and see about supplies to fix the sled. Next to that was a drugstore and then a chiropractor’s office and a dentist. A truck lumbered by, going about 12 m.p.h. Nothing seemed to move fast in this town.
He came upon the café and noted the red-and-white awning. Two Christmas bells clanged against the glass door as it swung open. He paused, taking in the red vinyl booths and black-and-white checkered floor. The smell of fifty years of grease that’d been attacked with industrial cleaner overnight hit his nose, followed quickly by the scent of freshly grilled bacon. This was the kind of place he could spend some time.
He bellied up to the counter and ordered theBig Breakfastoff the faded menu posted on the wall. The guy putting away dishes called the order through the open window, and another man in the back repeated it.
“It’ll be a few minutes,” said the dishwasher. “You passing through or stayin’ awhile?”
“Passing through. I’m looking for a reindeer.” It was time to start putting the truth out there and seeing what he could reel in.
“A reindeer?” barked the guy at the grill. He had to bend down to be seen through the window where he passed a large plate full of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
“My family owns a ranch, and we had one wander off.” These guys weren’t going anywhere and he was starved, so he took time to butter his pancakes and pour a generous amount of syrup over everything—even the eggs. When he’d had several bites, he motioned to the orange juice and the dishwasher poured him a glass. He took a long drink. “One of our herd may have wondered through here.”
They glanced at one another and shrugged. In that movement, Forest picked up the family resemblance. The younger guy must take after his mother in looks, but he moved like the cook.
“Have you heard anything?” He took another drink, purposefully dropping his eyes to give them the impression he was embarrassed to say this out loud.
The cook guffawed. “Yeah, from every kid under the age of ten.”
“Pop—come on.” The dishwasher finished wiping a glass dry and stacked it with the others. “No one’s said anything. And we hear just about every bit of gossip in town.”
“I—” A flash of red raced by the window, followed by a blur of other colors. Forest turned to see what it was and caught sight of the kid from yesterday—the one who’d taken off by himself. There was a pack of boys running the same direction. He threw a twenty on the counter, called “keep the change” over his shoulder, and jogged after them.
The pack peeled off at a house with a headless snowman out front. Forest stopped to look around. There wasn’t much at this end of town. The businesses, some of them in homes that had been converted to commercial use, ran right into the residential area.
The boy with the red hat ran from one side of the street to the other.
“Hey, you!” Forest called after him.
He looked back, saw Forest, and then broke into a sprint.
Forest kicked a mailbox, sending the snow on top plopping onto his boot.
“You got a problem with my mailbox?” asked a man holding a snow shovel. He was about Forest’s age and wore a yellow plaid thick flannel jacket while he cleared the driveway.
