by Dani Collins
“Oh, no.” Kristen was holding her cheeks. “I had no idea there were so many ways to hashtag-fail a Christmas tree. Now I’m really scared. I’ll probably let a squirrel in or something.”
“No, this is my year,” Sarah said with determination. “Wendy and I bought some new decorations last year. We threw out most of the old ones after the Great Cookie Disaster. I’m really hoping I get it right this time.”
“I love that they keep putting you in charge, no matter what happens,” Kristen said sincerely. It was good parenting one-oh-one to let Sarah make mistakes and learn to correct them.
“I know. I’m going to be such an expert when I finally have my own tree. But you go ahead and start. I’ll tell you my checklist so far.” Sarah folded open her notebook and perched on the sofa. “Start a wedding notebook,” she read, then ticked a box. “Hire a wedding planner.” She pointed the end of her pen at Kristen. “Check.”
“Ha.” Kristen was really starting to like this girl.
“Make a budget.” Sarah made a face. “I have twenty-eight dollars I saved from allowance and birthday money. I have a savings account that my grandparents started for me, but I have to ask Dad or Wendy to make withdrawals. They always say it has to be for something special, like a bike. This is pretty special and they might let me take a little if I said it was for Christmas presents, but I want to surprise them.”
“Let’s see what expenses you’re going to have before we worry about whether you have to dip into savings. Keep going.” She was impressed by how methodical Sarah was being.
“Reserve the venue. Do you think I can do it right there, in front of the tree? It’s kind of a weird angle with the tree by the window like that. It would be nicer in front of the fireplace, but I tried to tape some decorations to the fireplace for my school party and it doesn’t work.’
Kristen looked at the smooth, round stones. “How do you hang your stockings?”
Sarah pointed at a short red post Kristen hadn’t noticed, but that must have arrived with the boxes of decorations. It stood to the side of the fireplace and was bedecked with pegs holding a few empty stockings.
“Cute, but unhelpful. Hmm. Let’s think more about exactly where to have the ceremony over the next few days. What else?” She picked up a silver garland that rustled and sparkled as she worked it into the fragrant boughs of the tree.
“Guest list. Family, obviously. I’ll tell some of our regular staff like the guides and our other cat operator. I think we have to invite the guests, but is that weird?”
“I don’t know. How do you usually handle Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? Do you involve them or keep it as a family-only thing?”
“We ski a half day on Christmas Eve and finish early so people can dress up and we have lots of time for a big dinner. We usually put a second table here.” She pointed between the lounge and the dining area. “Then we play games like pass the parcel and charades. Grandma knits stockings and fills them with treats and fun little gifts. She gives them to the guests to take to bed and open in the morning. They get to keep those and take them home.”
“When do you open your presents?” Kristen asked curiously.
“In the morning, usually in our sitting room upstairs. Then we do a late brunch on Christmas morning and ski in the afternoon. We’re still up pretty early, but we get to be a bit lazy. Wendy usually goes skiing with us so dinner winds up being leftovers or whatever Grandma organizes because she doesn’t ski. Grandma always brings those things that you pull and they snap? The ones that have prizes and jokes and hats in them?”
“Christmas crackers?”
“Yes. We do those and play more games after dinner. Some guests stay in their cabin and have a private Christmas. If there are kids staying here, sometimes we go caroling to the cabins and hand out candy canes and treats that Wendy gives us.”
“That’s all so fun. I can’t wait. Which day were you thinking to have the wedding? On Christmas Day or…?” Kristen stepped onto the chair.
Sarah faltered. “I wasn’t sure. Dad expects me to ski so how do I stay home and organize everything if I do it in the evening? But it seems weird to do it Christmas morning.”
“Does it bother you that your parents always have to work on Christmas?” Kristen paused in stringing garland to ask.
“No. All the kids I know would kill to go boarding on Christmas,” Sarah said with a cheeky grin.
“Sounds like a win-win. Let’s see.” Kristen was thinking out loud as she kept working the garland. “All your family arrives on the twenty-third? Why not do the ceremony on the morning of Christmas Eve, before everyone goes skiing, seeing as it’s only a half day anyway? You have to tell the guests what you’re planning because you’re going to invite them, right? So really, you’re just asking them to have a late start two days in a row, not really cutting into their ski time.”
Sarah thought about it.
“Problem?” Kristen prompted.
“I really wanted to surprise everyone, but what if I could talk my aunt and uncle into not skiing that day? My aunt could help in the lodge and my uncle knows how to drive the cat. Then Dad and Wendy could have pretty much the whole day off. That would be nice, right?”
“A Christmas and wedding gift in one. Do you think they would do it?”
“I’m pretty sure. But I think doing it that morning is a good idea anyway, because we have a big dinner that night and it will be like we’re celebrating the wedding, too.”
“Awesome. Have you got, ‘pick a date’ on your list? Mark it ‘done.’ What’s next?”
“Find an officiate. That’s like the minister, right? I’m not sure what to do there.”
“They’re already married. You can ask anyone to bless them.”
Sarah made an O of discovery with her mouth. “You’re right!” She wrote something down. “I’ll ask my grandfather. He’ll love that.”
“How many people do you expect? Will the dining room chairs be enough?” Kristen stepped down off the chair to eye the furniture and dining area, mentally moving things around to form a short aisle.
“The patio chairs are in the sunroom. It would be okay to use them if we need them.” Sarah made a note, then lifted her head. “Okay. Photographer, music, flowers and food. I think my friend’s brother can bring his keyboard. I asked her to ask him. My aunt took all the photos on the walls. She brings her camera everywhere so I’m sure she’ll do that. But I’m not sure about flowers and a bouquet or a cake.”
“Is there a florist in town?” Kristen asked.
“There is, but I looked online. Even the small bouquets are a hundred dollars.”
“Hmm.” Kristen moved to sit next to Sarah and perused her list. “Toasts, vows and rings,” she read. “This is a really good checklist.”
“Thanks. With the toasts, Grandma always has champagne and fizzy fruit juice for Christmas morning. I’m pretty sure we can do toasts with that, but I’m not sure who should give the toasts? I could do one, but if I tell people to be prepared, then it won’t be a surprise for them. And what about vows? Also Dad and Wendy already have rings.”
“All good points. I’m going to decorate while I think. Sometimes if I do something creative with my hands, it helps my brain figure out a problem.”
“What kinds of problems?” Sarah closed her book and rose to help. “Do you have any now? Maybe I can help you.”
“Well, I’m not sure about my job,” Kristen admitted, taking a frosted silver ball from the box Sarah offered like chocolates. “It’s a really good job and I have a nice apartment and benefits and I make enough money that I can save a little. I could probably transfer to a bigger hotel soon, but I’m wondering if that’s really what I want. When I was in high school and I picked a college to get my business degree, I had in mind that I wanted to run huge hotels and jet all around the world. I thought it would be really glamorous and I would meet a lot of famous people.”
“It’s not like that?”
“Honest
ly? I mostly talk to staff. If I meet guests, it’s usually the ones who are upset about something. I don’t mind solving problems and trying to make them happy when they’ve been disappointed. I actually like that part. It makes me feel good, but I hardly ever get to just chat with people the way I did with the Entwhistles yesterday. Wait! Mrs. Entwhistle told me she worked as a florist before she retired.”
Sarah gasped and perked up, then her shoulders sagged. “They’re leaving on Saturday.”
“But that gives you all week to ask her for some ideas. She might even be able to tell you how to make something out of…” Kristen reached for a silk poinsettia that had a hole for a candle in the middle. “I bet we could find some fake flowers in town that would make a nice bouquet. Maybe she would even arrange it for you before she leaves.”
“Oh, yeah.” Sarah held her hand in the air.
Kristen high-fived it.
“You were right. We started decorating and we solved a problem. Let’s get this tree trimmed.” Sarah dug into another box of ornaments.
*
Pleasantly worn out from a day of relearning how to snowboard, Finn checked in with his mother as he prepared to meet friends for dinner.
“I’m still in Utah, Mom. I’m thinking of sticking around for at least one more day. The snow is really good. I’m catching up with guys I haven’t seen since I quit football.”
He was both elated by his reintegration into society and suffering latent guilt. This was the first vacation in years where he wasn’t picking up shifts in the ER. He was determined to enjoy his break to the fullest, but a part of his brain was programmed to believe family was the only valid excuse for not working.
“Take your time,” his mother said easily. “You’ve earned it. We’re busy this week anyway. Your father has a dentist appointment and I’m at the community kitchen two days in a row. Of course, if an empty house sounds relaxing, you’re welcome to turn up whenever it suits you. But don’t rush home on our account. You sound like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am. Thanks for understanding, Mom.” He pushed the button for the elevator and kept talking while he waited. “Did the Benzes get away on their vacation okay?”
“I asked your father to check his tablet. It said they landed safely in Miami.”
Finn bit back a grin, loving that his mom could have seen the same thing on her own tablet if she would only look. Finn’s older sisters and dad posted and shared and commented often, most of which Finn missed because he was working or too tired to check in. But his mother was still hesitant about social media. She preferred texting and was famous for group texts that got out of control. They’d all been driven crazy at least once after getting looped into her choir group or some other chain of misdirected messages.
“Why? Did you see something on the news?” his mother asked with a thread of worry in her tone.
“No, not at all. I saw online that Carson wasn’t coming home because they’re away. It made me think of them,” Finn said.
“It was his turn to go back east to spend the holidays with Julie’s parents. And Kristen took a job at a ski lodge.”
“She works there? I thought she was on vacation.” With someone.
“She’s on vacation from her regular job, but took a different job because she didn’t have anyone to come home to. I said we’d love for her to join us. I hate to think of her being on her own, but she had already committed to this Mistletoe Chalet.”
“That’s too bad.” His mother’s invitation didn’t surprise him. She had always treated the Benz kids like her own. But Kristen wasn’t refusing to spend Christmas with his family because of him was she?
“How did you know she was there?” His mother’s radar went up and he winced.
“I saw her post about it.” Thankfully, this was a regular call, not a video chat. His mother couldn’t see him blushing, standing here at a bank of elevators, feeling self-conscious that he had just admitted to his mom he had looked up an old girlfriend.
The elevators doors opened, revealing his former roommate canoodling with his fiancée. They broke apart and grinned.
“Great timing,” his buddy said dryly.
“That’s how elevators work. You push the button and the doors open,” Finn said, shaking his head at the couple. “I gotta go, Mom. We’re headed to dinner. I’ll call once I’m on the road so you know when to expect me.”
“All right. Have fun. Don’t break a leg.”
“Exactly what Sheryl said and I won’t. I love you.” He signed off and joined the lovebirds in the elevator.
They asked him where he wanted to eat and he glanced at his phone, not to look up a restaurant, but because he wanted to look up Mistletoe Chalet again. His first glance the other morning had left him with the impression it wasn’t too far out of his way once he was headed north through southern Idaho.
Hmm.
*
The next few days were busy for Kristen, especially because Wendy fell under the weather. Wendy powered through the first day, but the second day Ted came down at five thirty and asked Kristen, “Do you think you can handle breakfast? I told Wendy to stay in bed. She’s not feeling well.”
“Of course! That’s why I’m here.”
Besides, Ted and Sarah knew the drill and were here to coach her. Kristen was discovering that Wendy’s prep work for her meals really did make the cooking pretty straightforward.
This morning’s breakfast had been pre-cut, thick slices of French bread with a hole in the middle. After buttering both sides, she’d set them on a hot pancake griddle, cracked an egg into each and sprinkled some premixed herbs from a jar. The bacon went in the oven to broil after the frozen biscuits had baked and the gravy ingredients were right there, ready to be whisked together fresh.
Oatmeal was always prepared the night before and left on low so the dining room smelled heavenly first thing in the morning. Wendy had endless variations from blueberry and flaxseed with figs to peaches and pecans with dried cranberries. One day a week it was quinoa and she always left it unsweetened so people could decide for themselves if they preferred brown sugar or honey or maple syrup.
Sarah had gone skiing with Ted today so Kristen was alone in the kitchen, pulling flour and icing sugar from the pantry, when Wendy sleepily entered at nine o’clock.
“I’m so sorry to keep leaving you in the lurch. I’ve been so tired,” Wendy said, and yawned again to prove it. She was a little pale, not flushed with fever, and sheepish, not anxious.
Kristen was growing more and more convinced that Wendy was pregnant.
“Don’t apologize. Everything went fine. Well, I accidentally put decaf in the caffeine pot this morning,” she admitted. “But that’s better than the other way around. We got it sorted in time for everyone to avoid falling unconscious on the slopes.”
Wendy chuckled, then said with exaggerated melancholy, “I miss coffee.”
“The kettle just boiled,” Kristen offered as compensation.
“Thank you.” Wendy took note of the ingredients Kristen had piled on the counter. “You’re making your mom’s cookies?”
Wendy had been in full production the last two afternoons, but the cookies seemed to go as fast as she could make them so Kristen was doing her part.
“It’s a refrigerator cookie. I thought I’d throw the dough together before I turn over the rooms.”
“Good idea.” Wendy started some toast. “And thank you for the little trees you put in all the guest rooms. I noticed last night, when I was bringing Mrs. Entwhistle a book we had talked about. That’s when I realized I’d forgotten to tell you we do that. Honestly, I feel like my brain is a sieve these days.”
“Fortunately, you have Sarah. She told me to do it. She’s really awesome by the way. Smart and funny, has the eye of an artist.”
The other day, after they finished bedecking the tree in a silver and red theme with pops of dark blue and gold, they had woven lights and garland up the stairs and draped it in
scallops across the loft rail. Sarah had suggested filling small baskets with sprigs of fake holly and leftover baubles, leaving them on end tables in the great room like floral arrangements. All the guests had oohed and ahhed when they came down for dinner.
“She is awesome,” Wendy agreed. “But I can’t take credit.”
“You should,” Kristen insisted. “She and Ted seem really close, but these are formative years. She needs a strong relationship with a good female role model. It’s nice you two are so connected.”
“I love her to pieces. I just hope—” Wendy faltered. Her toast popped and she looked relieved to have an excuse to cut herself off and turn away to butter it.
Was she concerned how the coming baby might affect Sarah? Kristen thought of Sarah’s plans for a vow renewal and wished she could reassure Wendy that Sarah was more supportive of her union with Ted than ever.
“I’m really glad I get to spend Christmas with your family,” Kristen said. She would have a front row seat on all the loving surprises they had in store for each other.
“Because you’re missing your own?” Wendy asked with concern.
“Oh, a little,” she dismissed. “But I’ve missed Christmas with them before. In this industry, you often work the holidays. That’s how it is. You know that.” She waved a hand at Wendy.
“I do,” Wendy confirmed as she carried her freshly buttered toast and cup of herbal tea to the table. “But for some families, the only time they’re able to spend together is Christmas. I take the attitude that we’re helping them make the most of their time together. Skiing is a great family sport.”
“It is. And that’s how I feel about working through the holidays. I enjoy being a bit of an elf, making it fun for others.” Kristen straightened from finding a bowl and measuring cups in an island cupboard. “One of my favorite things is seeing a family on vacation where you can tell they’re eating up their time together. I saw a military dad surprise his kids once. Look.” She pointed at her welling eyes. “I still tear up.”