Ginger (Marrying Miss Kringle)

by Lucy McConnell

  “Lux, I have a ton of incomings …”

  “Please.” Lux clasped her hands together. “This is important.”

  “All right. Do you want me to fly?”

  “Yeah—unless you want to crash into an iceberg.”

  “If you’re flying low enough to hit an iceberg, you deserve to crash.”

  “I hate flying.” Lux barely threw on her shoes before running out to the barn, where Vixen waited. Getting this information must have been important to her if she was willing to take an extra turn in the sleigh. Lux had Vixen harnessed by the time Ginger locked up the cabin and pushed the heavy wooden barn doors open.

  The Alaskan sky was filled with stars. Lux may hate flying high, but Ginger loved to get lost up there where the only sound was the wind in your hair and the jingle of the harness bells.

  Lux secured her laptop under the seat where it wouldn’t get too cold and tucked herself deep into the corner of the sleigh.

  Ginger stood, leaning slightly forward. “On Vixen!” she hollered before slapping the reins. The reindeer took two giant leaps forward before picking the sleigh off the ground. Lux yelped and covered her face. Ginger tipped her head back, letting the wind and freedom fill her soul. She circled across the lake and then over Clearview.

  On the outskirts of the valley, where the elevation began to rise from valley floor to mountainside, there was a small cabin with a couple of outbuildings. Smoke rose up from the chimney, and lights blazed in the windows. Layla lived there. Ginger’s internal compass and Santa map gave her all the information she needed to know. Layla was in bed, pretending to sleep. Instead, she was praying, though what for Ginger had no idea. That was between Layla and the Lord.

  “Hang on!” she yelled over her shoulder before pulling to the right. She was as bad as Stella, flying past a guy’s house. How dumb was that?

  *

  Joseph scrubbed the last of the dinner dishes with vigor. Ginger and her inane gingerbread men had gotten into his head, and he’d ruined a perfectly good stump on that carving. He could have sold that turtle for enough to sustain them for a month. Now he was stuck with a gingerbread man he’d be lucky to unload before the holiday. What killed him was that Ginger hadn’t even been to his house yet. What was it with him? The first woman to wear lipstick in Clearview, and his mind goes all tinsel-ish.

  He wasn’t the only one. Quik obviously had fallen under her spell—as had Scooter, the man who argued with Quik over asking Ginger out. He swaggered around town, just waiting his turn at the twinkle-eyed Miss Krinkle.

  Who knew Quik was lonely enough to pull something so desperate? He’d always been a quiet one. People always said to watch out for the quiet ones …

  Throwing the wet sponge in the sink, Joseph sulked to the window. Scooter could ask Ginger out at any moment.

  The sky was clear with stars dancing like fairy lights against an ocean of black. Taking a deep breath, Joseph soaked in the familiar and soothing sight. He was about to head to bed when movement caught his eye. Something black against the stars, traveling fast. It looked … he blinked. It looked like a sleigh?

  He leaned against the glass. Ginger really had gotten inside his brain. The next thing you know he’d be humming “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” in his sleep.

  Growling once again at his subconscious for forcing thoughts of Christmas into his every waking moment, Joseph stomped into his room and fell into bed.

  Chapter Ten

  “That was a bust.”

  Ginger yawned as she opened the fridge. “Not completely.” She placed the fresh fruit, grown in the greenhouses back home, and milk in the fridge. “We got to raid the kitchen.”

  Lux pulled the elastic and pins out of her hair, letting it fall in stunning red waves down her back and across her shoulders. She rested her chin on her folded arms. “I really thought I’d found the reason for the changes.”

  “You will.” Ginger patted her arm. If anyone on the planet was smart enough to figure out a mystery that had been around for centuries, it was Lux. “You should get some sleep, though. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

  “I have to. Christmas is counting on me.”

  “You?” Ginger’s gut sucked in. “I’m the one who has to convince a stranger to marry me in less than a month.”

  Lux half-smiled. “I know.” She sighed. “When are you going to tell him about the whole Santa gig?”

  “I thought I’d take him for a sleigh ride for our first date.”

  “Sure. Scare the guy into marrying you.”

  Ginger threw a dish towel at Lux and missed. “I’m a good flier.”

  “Well, you’re better than Stella, I’ll give you that.”

  “That’s not saying much.” Stella drove like a roller coaster operator. When Stella flew a sleigh, even the reindeer came back nauseous.

  Ginger rubbed her temples.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Lux.

  Eyeing her practical and scientific-minded sister, Ginger was extremely grateful the two of them had ended up on this adventure together. Stella may have a lot of flair and have more experience with men than the rest of the Kringle sisters put together, but Lux had a way of working through things that was soothing to Ginger’s troubled mind. “Here’s the thing. On one level, I feel just like everyone else. I have a dad and a mom who have expectations and want to see me succeed. I have sisters, who, for the most part, love me.”

  Lux gave her a sympathetic look. Robyn had been less than friendly at last night’s family meeting. She refused to stand anywhere near Ginger and only spoke when asked a direct question.

  Ginger filled a pan with milk for hot chocolate and set it on the stove to scald. “I have a job, and I work and I went to college.” Granted, she had gone through summer semesters at UC Santa Barbara and taken fall off to help the family get ready for Christmas, but that wasn’t strange enough to set her apart as a freak. Hiding her Kringle abilities wasn’t all that hard either, with the weather in Santa Barbara staying between seventy and eighty degrees. If she forgot a sweater during the June gloom, it was overlooked.

  With a shake of her head, she continued, “These are all normal-people things to do. But there’s this other part of me that knows I’m different. Instead of rock climbing, I climb ice walls. Instead of coworkers, I have elves. Instead of a car, I drive a sleigh. Instead of black-ink tattoos, I get tinsel. I’m not like everyone else, and I don’t know if Doctor Patrick Greggory Scott is going to be okay with that.”

  “He’d be an idiot not to love you.”

  Ginger draped her arm around Lux and rested her head on her shoulder. “Have I told you how smart you are?”

  Lux chuckled for a moment before reaching for a pen. “Can I ask why you’ve fixated on the doctor? There are three other men on the list.”

  Ginger thought about it as she removed the pan from the stove and added Italian cocoa powder and sugar. She set a cup in front of Lux and sipped her drink. “I think it’s my nature. I’m a list girl. Start at the top and work your way through.”

  Lux blew across the steaming liquid. “Do you feel a connection to him, a draw?”

  Remembering her little fly by Joseph’s house the night before, Ginger blushed. She hadn’t felt anything like that for Patrick Greggory Scott. “No.” She frowned into her mug.

  With a half-hearted burst of energy, the sun came up, filling the house with muted daylight and breaking the quiet moment. Lux yawned. “I think I’ll nap for a while. What are your plans?”

  “I’m headed into town to see if the doc is back.” She left off the part about baking cookies with Layla and her uncle later in the day. If Joseph was going to join them. He was such a serious man, Ginger wondered if he ever had fun. Or knew what fun was. Or had maybe heard about fun once upon a time. Although, that serious look in his eye was kind of attractive in a determined male sort of way. She got the feeling that if Joseph wanted something, he pursued it with all the determination of his soul. The th
ought of being pursued by Joseph left her light-headed.

  “Do you want to sleep first? We’ve been up all night.”

  Ginger stood up straight. “I’m not tired.” She wasn’t. “Which is kind of weird.”

  Lux tapped the snowflake. “Santa genes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Santas have always been able to go days without sleep. It will catch up to you, but your body is adjusting for the Christmas Eve ride.”

  Ginger stared at her silver mark. “Please don’t tell me I’m going to get a cookie belly and a fluffy white beard too.”

  Lux headed toward her room. “I guess that depends on your cookie craving,” she said over her shoulder.

  Ginger smiled to herself. She was craving some cookies, but not because she needed a sugar boost. These cookies would come with an adorable little kitchen helper and hopefully a handsome sous chef.

  Her happy vision was cut off by Lux as she poked her head out of the door. “When you meet the doctor, record the time, will you? I’d like to compare it to today’s measurements.”

  “Sure,” Ginger replied absently. Cookies would have to wait until after she’d met her future intended. She pressed a finger to the spot below her eyebrow where Stella had gone nuts with the wax last night in an attempt to create an arch. It worked, but Ginger didn’t like the sting that came from having her eyebrow ripped out. She’d stick to tweezers for the rest of her marriage.

  With that intimidating thought of spending the rest of her life with someone she hadn’t met yet, she strode into the house to take the travel braids out of her hair and apply some lipstick.

  *

  Joseph bustled through the door with an armload of wood to find Layla sweeping the front room.

  She frowned at him. “Stomp outside!”

  “Okay. Sheesh.” He stepped back and pounded the snow off his boots, a grin on his face. She was so much like her mother. When he came in, he set the logs down so he could remove his shoes. The stove kept the cabin quite toasty, and his thick wool socks would be fine on the wooden floorboards.

  Layla had on her darkest pair of jeans and a pink-striped shirt with a sparkly star on the front. Her hair was parted—crooked, but he’d never tell her that—and pulled back into a low ponytail. She bent to hold the dustpan while she swept the small pile of dirt and sawdust into it. Upon further inspection, she’d also dusted the mantel and pictures as well as fluffed the couch cushions.

  “Who taught you to clean?” Joseph asked.

  “My mom.”

  Trying not to make a big deal out of his question, Joseph asked, “Do you ever clean for other people?” His sister should know better than to hire out her child. He carried the wood over to the stove and stacked it in the holder.

  “I used to go with Mom to work.” She finished with the broom and returned it to the closet. Timber trotted along behind her. When she shut the closet door, he bumped her with his nose and she gave him a hug. The two had taken to one another like lost bear cubs.

  For all the faults he could find with Ruth, she appeared to do right by Layla. Joseph felt the tension leave his neck. Except for dropping her off and running away. He’d been so in shock over her abandonment that he hadn’t thought much beyond Layla’s immediate needs. If she was going to stay, she needed to go to school. There wasn’t a school building in Clearview, and he wondered how to make that happen.

  Done with the chore, he scratched his head. If he remembered right, homeschool was the norm. He’d have to talk to someone about that, and soon. He didn’t want her missing more than she already had.

  Layla looked at him and frowned—again. “Maybe you should shave.”

  “What?” Joseph laughed as he stroked his beard. “Why would I shave?”

  Looking at him as if he were daft, a feat Layla had mastered at a young age for a girl, she replied, “We have company coming over.”

  Joseph groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Don’t you like Ginger?” With eyes as big as the moon, Layla looked as though she would take his answer personally. Timber followed the conversation, his eyebrows twitching. The poor dog hadn’t had this much entertainment in years.

  Joseph thought carefully before saying, “She’s fine. I just don’t like people making a mess in my kitchen.”

  “I think she’s beautiful. She reminds me of a princess.”

  “A princess?” Joseph thought back to yesterday. “Princesses don’t wear black snow pants and purple jackets.”

  “Sure they do. And they sparkle—like Ginger when she smiles.”

  “You think she sparkles?” Joseph repeated dumbly as his mind centered on that moment when his hand had brushed Ginger’s and fireworks had gone off inside his head. He’d been so dazzled and felt so warm, he forgot it was ten degrees outside.

  “Especially when she smiles.”

  “Yeah.” He replied. Coming back to himself, he realized he’d been staring at nothing and acting like a fool. That was no way for an adult—let alone an adult responsible for a child—to behave. Glancing down, he saw the scraggly ends of his beard. “Maybe I do need a trim.”

  Layla’s shoulders dropped. “If it’s the best you can do.”

  Joseph grabbed her around the middle and began tickling her tummy. “You want to see the best I can do?” he teased.

  Her laughter pealed through the cabin. “Uncle. Uncle!” She gasped for air.

  Letting her slip away, Joseph pointed her direction. “Let that be a lesson to you—never insult a man’s beard.”

  Layla grinned, but kept her distance to fend off another tickle attack.

  Joseph shut the door to his room and dug out his electric razor. After cleaning up his facial hair, which turned out quite nicely if he did say so himself, he decided a clean button-up shirt was in order. While tucking in his shirt, he noticed a tear in his jeans and changed those too. As he ran his fingers through his hair, he realized what he was doing: he was grooming himself for a woman. Shocked, and more than a little disgusted that he cared what Ginger thought of him, he yanked his shirt out of his pants and shook his head to mess up his hair. Confident he looked like he wasn’t trying to impress her, Joseph fought the nerves in his stomach. What he needed was a distraction.

  “Layla,” he called as he opened his door. “Let’s go out to the shop for a while.”

  *

  “Hi, I’m Ginger Kringle.”

  And why are you here today? Ginger imagined the doctor saying.

  “To fall in love with you.”

  Bah! No good.

  Ginger paced in front of the Trading Post, doing her best to come up with an opening line. Every word that came out sounded like cinder and pine sap. Dialing Stella’s number, she held her breath.

  Instead of Stella, Frost answered the phone. “Hi, Stella ran out of here just a minute ago.”

  “What’s going on?” Whatever had happened, it must have been important for Stella to leave her phone behind.

  “They ran out of red paint in the fire truck machine, and no one refilled it.”

  “What?” If wet paint wasn’t in the feeding tubes, the lines dried out and had to be cleaned by hand. Fire trucks were a big hit with boys ages three to five. “Did they shut it off before the engine clogged?”

  “Yeah, but she’ll be busy for a bit. Want me to tell her you called?”

  Ginger almost rubbed her eyes and then remembered the fancy new mascara with extra curling power she’d applied. “I need a pickup line in five minutes or less.” She glanced at her phone before placing it back up to her ear. “Maybe I can Google it.”

  “If Google had good pick-up lines, do you think anyone would still be single?”

  “Good point.”

  “How about ‘Would you like to go to dinner in the Alps?’”

  “I can’t ask him that! He’d think I was nuts.”

  “Okay, try saying, ‘Have you ever had real Schnitzel?’”

  “Schnitzel, really?”

&
nbsp; “It’s one of your favorite things.”

  The image of her family singing like the Von Trapps and tossing around pillows came to mind. Not that they’d done that … recently. They were kind of a magical family, after all.

  “Frost, I can’t do this.”

  “You can and you must. Come on, Ginger. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy—”

  “He’s not Hugh Grant. Oh my brikle, Frost.” She bit her lips to hold back the chuckle that threatened to release.

  “Okay, so no Julia Roberts. I think you should just march yourself in there and give him two weeks’ notice that he has to marry you. That’s the proposal. If he can’t take the heat, tell him to jump in a lake house.”

  Ginger laughed.

  “Like you said when I was fourteen, Sandra can get you out of any heartbreak blues.”

  I wish. “Okay, I’m going to channel my inner Miss Congeniality and strut my stuff.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Love you.”

  “You too.”

  They hung up, and Ginger took a moment to stand up straighter. She’d worn black boots with a little heel, teal leggings, and an oversized sweater with a coat to match. Her hat was also black, as were her gloves, which she’d remembered. With a sense of purpose, she began her approach.

  “Excuse me? Yoo-hoo. Excuse me!”

  Ginger paused mid-step to watch a woman with a fur hat and scarf scurrying along, her arm waving madly. She looked to either side to see if the woman was calling someone else, but no one paused or paid attention. With a shrug, Ginger waited. The woman’s name popped into her head: Susan Miller White. Warmth spread through Ginger’s toes. Finding adults who believed in Santa was always a joy.

  “Hello,” Ginger greeted her warmly. “Merry Christmas.”

  Susan stopped a couple of feet away and stared as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “He—hi.” She took a hesitant step forward. “Merry Christmas.”

  Ginger’s belly jumped as she ho ho ho’d. She pressed a palm against her stomach to make sure she hadn’t grown a cookie belly that she wasn’t aware of. Finding everything where it should be, she smiled and asked, “What can I do for you?”