Colorado Christmas Magic

by Caitlin McKenna

  Mary watched with amusement tickling her lips. “I see you’re not used to cold weather.”

  “Born and raised in Los Angeles,” Charley stated proudly. “Cold to me is sixty degrees.”

  Mary let out a hearty laugh as Joe entered with Charley’s bags. “Joe will show you to your room while I make us some hot cocoa.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Charley followed Joe up the staircase.

  At the top of the landing, she took note of the small colorful fiber-optic Christmas trees sitting next to each door of every room down the second-floor hallway, while trumpeting angels hung from above. She couldn’t help but feel like they were announcing the arrival of a Christmas Scrooge. “I’ve never seen so many decorations.”

  “It’s all Mary,” Joe said, pride filling his voice. “She’s got an interior decorator’s eye, especially when it comes to Christmas.” He stopped in front of the first door on the right, and even the doorknobs were decorated with Christmas ribbon. “Here you are. The Nutcracker suite.”

  She stepped into the room, her home for the next week, and was filled with amazement. There was a four-poster bed with garland wrapped around each post, and a rich forest-green down comforter topped with red-and-white reindeer shams. Opposite the bed stood three-foot nutcrackers on each side of a wood-burning fireplace.

  On the mantel were a snow globe, a couple of elves, and a jolly old Santa Claus sitting in a rocking chair with perfectly wrapped presents at his feet. Then her eyes landed on something she hadn’t seen in a very long time—an Island of Misfit Toys Charlie-in-the-Box.

  Charley gasped. “A Charlie-in-the-Box!” She walked over to the mantel and stood by her favorite Christmas toy. “May I?”

  Joe nodded, and she carefully removed it from the mantel to get a closer look. “Mary’s had that for years.”

  “I used to have one when I was a little girl.” She studied every detail, remembering how her mother would play the toy’s sayings for her when she went to bed. “I don’t know what happened to it.” She gently touched Charlie’s cheek before putting him back in his place.

  “Please make yourself at home,” Joe said. “The bathroom’s right through there. Just holler if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Joe.”

  After he left, she sat on the bed in order to fully appreciate all the fantastic decorations surrounding her. She felt the corners of her mouth involuntarily rise into a big grin. “Nope.” She swiftly hopped off the bed before she got too comfortable. A few decorations were not going to sway her. She was there for one reason only—to debunk the famous Scrooge Legend.

  * * *

  Jack blew past St. Nicholas’s welcome sign and wondered if he’d read it correctly. Number of believers? Did the scam involve the entire town?

  The navigation voice blurted out another command, and Jack followed it blindly. He drove slowly down a long private road, sensing the system was wrong. He honestly didn’t know why he still listened to the thing. Ahead of him sat a one-story house dwarfed by a large red barn. As he approached, a heavyset middle-aged man wearing a red baseball cap and coveralls sauntered out of the barn to greet him.

  Jack rolled down his window.

  “Hi, there,” the man said, wiping grease from his face and hands with a rag. “Are you looking for a bed-and-breakfast?”

  “Seems I’m not the first.”

  The man cracked a smile. “Those navigation systems are dumber than a tree stump.”

  Jack laughed. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Okay, well, what you’re going to want to do is take a left at the end of my drive.” He gestured toward the road. “Keep going for about a quarter of a mile, and then you’ll see it on the right. A quiet, peaceful, two-story inn. You can’t miss it.”

  “Much appreciated, Mike,” Jack replied, and the man gave him an inquisitive look. “On your coverall.”

  “Oh, right.” Mike chuckled, running his hand over the embroidered name tag. “Well, have a nice time in St. Nicholas.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Jack drove back down the driveway, he laughed again at the man’s dumber-than-a-tree-stump comment. It was his grandmother’s favorite saying.

  Chapter Six

  Mary placed a bowl of nuts on a serving tray with cheese, crackers, and Christmas cookies, while Joe pulled down three mugs from the cabinet and lined them up next to the stove.

  “She seems like a very sweet girl,” he remarked. “Hard to believe she’s a Scrooge.”

  “You say that about all of them.” Mary gave the hot cocoa another stir, then poured it equally into the three mugs. “Remember Brooke, the terror in heels?” She topped off the cocoas with whipped cream and a sprinkle of shaved chocolate before setting them on a second tray.

  “Brooke was definitely a handful.”

  “She sure was.” The high-powered attorney had arrived demanding everything but left asking for nothing, due to her dramatic turnaround. “It’s not for us to question—only to move them in the right direction.” She eyed her husband, who seemed like he had something else on his mind. “What’s troubling you?”

  “I guess I worry about the day we can’t do this anymore,” he admitted, leaning against the counter. “They’re like our kids, you know? Every last one of them.”

  “I feel the same way.” She came over next to him and took his hand. “And when the time comes, we’ll pass the torch to the next innkeepers, and the Scrooges of the world will continue to be helped for years, decades, and centuries to come.”

  He nodded, but she could still see doubt filtering through his eyes.

  “I think our retirement is far down the road,” she said. “Don’t you?”

  A tiny smile crossed his face. “I’d like to think so.”

  “All right, then.” She patted his hand. “Let’s go help Charley.”

  * * *

  Charley descended the stairs right as her in-sync hosts set down two trays of goodies in a sitting area.

  “Perfect timing,” Mary announced, motioning her to a cozy-looking chair by the fire.

  Charley joined them, scoping out the goodies. “I hope all of this isn’t just for me,” she said hesitantly as she sat, noticing there wasn’t anyone else present. “Am I your only guest?”

  “Goodness, no.” Mary handed her a mug of hot cocoa. “We had a lot of couples come in late last night, so they’re all out exploring the town.”

  The whipped cream atop the cocoa was so thick, it had to be homemade. It sure beat the canned whipped cream Charley had in her refrigerator back home. She took a sip and got some of it on the tip of her nose. “Oh!” She chuckled from embarrassment and wiped it away. “This cocoa is incredible.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” Mary smiled, sitting back. “How do you like your room?”

  “It’s beautiful and comfortable, but I don’t...” Charley trailed off, averting her eyes, trying to figure out how to phrase her next question without offending her hosts.

  “No need to be shy,” Joe spoke up. “If there’s a problem, we want to know about it.”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that.” Charley wasn’t sure how to delicately put it, so she’d just have to come out and say it. “What’s the catch?” She leveled her gaze on the couple. “Is this some kind of new timeshare pitch where you rent one of your rooms once a year?”

  Both Mary and Joe burst with a laugh. “Goodness, no,” Mary replied. “You were invited to be a guest of our town.”

  “For free?” she questioned with uncertainty. “With no strings attached?”

  “For free. That’s what complimentary means,” Mary assured her in such a sweet voice that it sounded too sincere to be patronizing.

  Perhaps her perfect hosts were being paid by someone else who’d expect something in return. “Who invited me?” she asked, determined to find out.

>   “Well, Santa, of course.” Mary took a steady sip of her cocoa.

  This time Charley laughed. When Mary didn’t laugh with her, she eyed Joe, who was stone-faced.

  “Santa,” she repeated, thinking she obviously hadn’t heard correctly.

  “The one and only,” Mary said, taking a cookie for herself.

  Charley kept throwing quick glances between the two, scrutinizing them, certain she’d catch them looking uneasy about the lie they were feeding her. But the Carrolls didn’t appear uneasy or nervous in the least. Santa? She honestly couldn’t believe they were talking about the Santa Claus. “Can I meet... Santa, to thank him in person?”

  “Oh, that’s impossible.” Mary roared with a laugh. “You know how busy he is right now.”

  “You bring up a good point,” Charley said. “He is very busy, so how does he have time to single me out and invite me up here for a week?”

  The Carrolls glanced at one another, then back at her without answering. The silence became thorny and strained, but she wasn’t going to let them off the hook. She’d wait to hear the truth; she’d wait all night if she had to.

  Finally, Mary leaned in and, barely above a whisper, said, “You know.”

  Charley looked at her blankly. “Know what?”

  “You know.” Mary stared at her intently as if that was supposed to help her decode the cryptic message.

  “No. I don’t.”

  Mary fussed with the back of her hair, looking very uncomfortable. “I believe it was spelled out in the letter.”

  Charley shook her head. “No. It wasn’t.”

  Joe cleared his throat. “What Mary’s trying to say is Santa thinks you’re a Scrooge.”

  “Joe!” Mary chided her husband, her face aghast.

  “She’s a straight shooter, Mary. Why tiptoe?”

  “Thank you, Joe, for your candor,” Charley said. “I didn’t realize Santa was so sensitive that he had to call out his critics.”

  “Goodness. He isn’t doing any such thing.” Mary seemed clearly agitated now. She took a few rapid breaths, letting them out with distressed sighs, before fixing her gaze back on Charley. “You’ve been brought here for a specific reason.”

  “Which is what?”

  Mary shrugged. “How would I know?”

  How would she not know? Charley looked to Joe for an answer.

  “No idea.”

  “None whatsoever?” She stared at the couple, totally baffled by their answers—or lack thereof.

  “Well...my guess is you’ve lost your faith in something or someone, and Santa wants to help you find it again,” Mary surmised.

  Charley shook her head in exasperation. “I don’t know what you’re referring to. I really don’t.”

  “Then you will,” Mary said calmly.

  “When?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “That’s up to you,” Joe chimed in.

  “Uh-huh.” Charley sat back, hoping to make sense of what they were attempting to tell her, but she couldn’t figure it out. Trying one more time, she leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees, and asked them directly, “What exactly do you get out of all this?”

  Mary clasped her hands together. “It’s not always about getting something, Charley.”

  “No, it’s not.” Joe helped himself to some cheese and crackers.

  “But we’re here to help,” Mary reassured her with a cheery smile pasted on her face. “And to answer any questions you might have. Any at all.” She shoved the tray of goodies under Charley’s nose. “Cookie?”

  * * *

  Jack followed Mike’s instructions and found the B&B right where he said it would be, only it didn’t look quiet or peaceful. The front door was wide open with large hoses running down the front steps to two flood restoration trucks.

  “This doesn’t look good.” He parked in an area marked for guests and hopped out. He walked up to the front, weaving around workers carrying in dehumidifiers, and knocked on the door. “Hello?”

  A moment later, a young woman no more than twenty-five appeared a bit frazzled. “Yes?”

  “I’m Jack Brody. I think I’m supposed to be staying here, but—”

  “Mr. Brody. I’m so sorry,” she said, smoothing down her messy hair. “We had a situation, as you can see. Come in.”

  He hesitated, catching a glimpse of the flood experts walking upstairs with their equipment. “You know, I can find a motel or—”

  “They’re all booked,” she told him, exhaustion coloring her voice. “I know because I had to find lodging for my other guests.”

  “Oh.” Jack shoved his hands inside his coat, running options in his head.

  “The good news is I can offer you a very comfortable foldout couch. At no charge, of course.”

  “I couldn’t,” he replied. “You’ve got your hands full.”

  “We insist,” a young guy said, coming into the house with plastic tarps and empty cardboard boxes. He set them down and extended his hand. “I’m Nolan and I see you’ve met my wife, Felicity.”

  “Jack.” He shook Nolan’s hand. “What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “A twelve-year-old boy decided to get his father’s attention in a big way.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Luckily, we have insurance.”

  “Which we might not even need,” Felicity reminded her husband. “The boy’s father said he’d pay for all the damages.”

  From what Jack had seen on the job, few responsible parties lived up to their word. “You might want to document everything, just in case.”

  “We are,” she said, “but I have a good feeling it will all work out, especially since the incident finally got father and son talking again.”

  Jack instantly thought about Luke and Braca. “Glad to hear something good came out of it.”

  “Won’t you stay?” Felicity pressed. “Unexpected things happen a lot here in St. Nicholas. I bet if I call around tomorrow, I’ll find someone who received a last-minute cancellation.”

  Unexpected things? As in scamming people out of their hard-earned money? Jack realized the flood situation was a golden opportunity for him. He could casually inquire about the town and the other B&Bs while he helped them get their place back in order. “I’ll stay if you allow me to help you clean up.”

  Felicity hesitated, then looked to her husband.

  “Thank you, Jack,” Nolan said, picking up the plastic tarps. “We could use it.”

  Jack grabbed a handful of boxes. “Lead the way.” He followed the young couple into the dining room where papers, books, and office supplies were piled high on all the tables.

  “With water pouring down the walls of our office, we had to quickly throw everything in here,” Nolan explained.

  Several ornate silver-and-gold metallic tubes were scattered on one of the tables. “These are cool.” He picked one of them up and inspected it. “What are they for?”

  “Uh...” Nolan was suddenly tongue-tied.

  “Oh!” Felicity hurried over and snatched it out of Jack’s hand. “It’s just a little thing I do for the guests on Christmas. Let me get them out of the way.” She scooped them off the table, threw them in a box, and hurried out of the room.

  An uncomfortable silence fell between him and Nolan, which only made Jack suspect they were hiding something. But what? As the two began moving stacked-up chairs away from the walls, Felicity popped back in.

  “Great news, Jack. Another B&B not far from here can take you first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “They just had a one-week cancellation. I told the proprietor what’s going on over here, and she’s happy to accommodate you. We all work together when unexpected things happen.”

  I bet you do. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you out for a few days
? It’s no problem.”

  “Thank you, but we’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Now, I better go check on the workmen.”

  Felicity hurried out, leaving Jack wondering how he was going to interrogate the couple in a few short hours without raising suspicion.

  Chapter Seven

  With her hat and gloves firmly in place and her coat zipped up to her ears, Charley stood on Main Street, staring at the town map, trying to locate Kringle Lane.

  “Morning,” a woman said as she passed by with a smile.

  “Morning,” Charley called after her, having been taken off guard. The town’s friendliness felt foreign, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. She reached for her phone and called her friend on FaceTime. “Morning, Liv.”

  “Wow, I was expecting a dire plea of ‘Get me out of here!’” Liv joked. “Hold on. I’m going to prop you up against a stack of magazines so I can keep working.”

  The picture on Liv’s phone jostled around before it finally settled, allowing Charley a full view of her friend at a design table. Liv’s assistant passed three fashion photos over to her. She took two seconds to study them before she shook her head and motioned for more.

  “Go ahead, Charley. I’m listening.”

  “You’ve got to see this place.” Charley turned her phone camera around and slowly panned the beautiful town in front of her. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” She reversed the view, setting it back on herself, and noticed Liv wasn’t looking at her cell screen at all. Not allowing that to deter her, Charley tried to engage her again. “Liv, you won’t believe how friendly the people are here. It almost doesn’t seem real.”

  “I’m sure it’s fake,” Liv threw out with a flick of a glance before she was handed more photos. “But why am I telling you that? You always find that nugget of ugly in paradise. What’s St. Nicholas’s blemish?”

  Charley found the nearest bench and sat down. “No outward blemish that I can see, but I do feel like they aren’t telling me the whole truth as to why I was invited.” She raised her eyes and offered a smile at a couple passing by.