four
Emma wasn’t surprised that she got stuck in the back seat with Grant on the trip from Denver to Breckenridge. Harris had exchanged glances with her when Gillian assigned the seating order. He’d seemed even more troubled than Emma. But then he hadn’t thought to put his bags between him and Gil. Emma had taken care of that by wedging her bags between her and Grant.
Because, even though it was a large and luxurious SUV, everyone was packed in between carry-on bags and coats, with the larger bags in back and some gear stashed in the cargo carrier on top. Mrs. Landers had already lodged her complaints about only having one rental vehicle for this trip, but Mr. Landers had assured her there would be another car available at the Breckenridge house. “And it’s only ninety minutes.”
“Ninety minutes of being stuffed in here like sardines?” she’d retorted, which naturally led to some bickering in the front seat.
Emma blocked it out by focusing on the view out the window. “It’s so beautiful,” she declared. “I can’t believe it.”
“What is so beautiful?” Mrs. Landers asked sharply.
“The snow.” Emma gazed with wonder at the white mountains.
“Snow?” Mrs. Landers laughed, but not with humor. “It looks more like brown slush to me. Honestly, Gary, I thought Colorado would be much prettier than this.”
“Give it a chance,” he told her. “We’re barely out of Denver.”
“And I don’t mean the snow along the freeway,” Emma clarified. “I meant the snow up there on the mountains. Isn’t it pristine? I can’t believe I’m actually looking at snowy mountains. I already feel Christmassy.”
“According to my weather app, they’re expecting more snow by tonight,” Harris said. “Should be perfect for skiing.”
“I just hope we don’t get more snow before we get there.” Mrs. Landers sounded anxious. “I’ve heard this drive can be treacherous in snow. Especially for people who aren’t used to driving in these conditions. People like us.”
“Don’t worry, Lisa,” Mr. Landers reassured her. “You know, I grew up in Michigan. I can drive in snow. And this Escalade has four-wheel drive. We’ll be perfectly fine.”
“And if we do get stranded in a blizzard, I’ve still got a lot of munchies in my bag—and I’ll happily auction them off to you guys,” Grant teased.
“I still don’t know why we did this silly house swap.” Mrs. Landers’s tone grew more irritated. “Leaving our lovely home to risk our lives up here in the desolate mountains. It’s perfectly ridiculous. We don’t even ski.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“You’re telling me you know how to ski?” she asked.
“I used to ski—as a kid. Admittedly, it’s been a while, but hopefully it’s like riding a bike. What do you think, Harris? You’re the expert here.”
“I think a few lessons and you’ll be tearing up the mountain.”
Mr. Landers laughed. “As long as the mountain doesn’t tear me up.”
“Oh, Gary, you can’t be serious. Skiing at your age? You’ll probably break your neck, and I’ll have to spend my holidays taking care of you.”
“If I break my neck, I’ll be in the hospital.”
“Okay, then your leg.”
“No one is going to break anything, Lisa.” His tone matched hers in aggravation. “Good grief. Just relax and enjoy this!”
“Yeah, Mom,” Gillian chimed in. “Take a chill pill.”
“Thank you, but I can do without your sarcasm, Gillian. If I remember correctly, you were not in favor of this trip at first either, not until you found out—”
“Oh, Mom, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Gillian interrupted. “It’s Christmastime. We’re supposed to have fun, remember?”
“That’s right,” Mr. Landers agreed. “Listen to your daughter’s wisdom.”
And just like that the first family feud of the trip erupted. Gillian and her mom going at it. Grant stepping in to defend his mother by reprimanding his sister. Mr. Landers telling everyone to shut up so he could focus on driving. And Harris laughing loudly as if the whole thing were highly amusing. Meanwhile, Emma kept her eyes on the passing scenery, which seemed to get more and more beautiful. She was tempted to comment on it, except she felt her appreciation for Colorado’s mountains and snow had incited the whole squabble in the first place.
“I feel like we’re driving through a sweet old-fashioned Christmas movie,” she said quietly to Grant. “The snow up here is so pretty. Much better than it looked in Denver.”
He looked out his window, then nodded. “I have to admit, it is nice.”
Harris turned around in his seat to face the two of them. “Wait until you see Breckenridge. It’s even better.”
“Are we there yet, Dad?” Grant yelled out in a teasing tone.
“Very funny. I just hope we get there before dark.”
“According to that last sign and my phone, we should be there a half hour before sunset,” Harris told him. “We’re only about twenty minutes from Breckenridge right now.”
“Thanks, Harris. I should make you my navigator,” Mr. Landers said.
“Look!” Mrs. Landers cried out in a panicky tone.
“What is it?” Mr. Landers demanded.
“Snow.”
“Of course it’s snow,” he growled back at her. “We’re in Colorado.”
“I mean snowflakes are falling—from the sky. What if it turns into a blizzard?”
“What if there’s an earthquake and mountains fall down on us?” Gillian teased. “Seriously, Mom, you need to just chill out.”
And now the family feud started all over again. But fortunately, the snowflakes didn’t turn into a blizzard and the mountains didn’t tumble down. Before long, they were driving through the most picturesque town Emma had ever seen. “Wow,” she said quietly, “this is really, really beautiful.”
“Yeah, not bad,” Grant said. And the others began to comment favorably as well, except for Mrs. Landers. Her arms folded tightly in front of her, she stared straight forward, not saying a word. She was clearly in a bad mood, but hopefully that would change once they got settled in.
“Well, here we are,” Mr. Landers announced as he pulled up in front of the house.
“Is this it?” Mrs. Landers sounded unimpressed. “I thought it would be bigger.”
“Me too,” Gillian agreed.
“It’s got five bedrooms and six baths.” Mr. Landers turned off the engine.
“It doesn’t look that big from here,” Mrs. Landers said. “Are you sure this is the right place, Gary?”
“According to the address.”
“Why is that Jeep parked in front?” she demanded.
“Probably for our use. First dibs,” Grant said. “Looks like a nice one too.”
Mr. Landers opened the door. “Come on, everyone. This is definitely the right place. You boys start unloading the car while I open things up.”
“I think it’s absolutely picture perfect.” As she got out, Emma took in the wood and rock structure. It was rustically handsome—and beautifully dusted in white snow. She scooped up a handful of snow, holding it close to her face and sniffing.
“Snow has no smell,” Gillian teased. “But maybe you should taste it.”
“Okay, I will.” Emma took a nibble and Gillian laughed.
“Oh, Emma—I can’t believe you. I hope it doesn’t make you sick.”
“How could anything so fresh and clean make me sick?”
“Come on, ladies,” Mr. Landers called out as he opened the door. “I need to punch in the security code.”
Eager to see more, Emma hurried inside, taking it all in. The foyer floor was slate, and the staircase was made of logs. The furnishings were rustic but beautiful, and everything—from antler lamps to Native American rugs—seemed to fit together impeccably. To top it all off, it was beautifully decorated for Christmas. The garlands on the banisters looked so real, she had to touch them. And the enormous tree with all
its charming woodsy decorations not only looked real, it smelled real too. Had someone sprayed it with pine scent? “Oh, my goodness,” she gushed. “It’s all absolutely perfect.”
“Perfect?” Mrs. Landers was not impressed. “It reminds me of that old John Candy movie—The Great Outdoors—where they stayed in that wretched cabin and—”
“I love that movie,” Emma told her. “And the cabin was great after they cleaned it up. But this one’s spotlessly clean.” She pointed to the tall Christmas tree by the fireplace. “Did you see those snowshoe and ski ornaments? And those tiny cabins with little lights inside? Doesn’t it all make you feel Christmassy?”
“If you ask me the decorations are all wrong,” Mrs. Landers declared.
“Wrong?” Mr. Landers demanded. “How can they be wrong?”
“Oh, they’re fine if you like things like pine cones and moose antlers and all that rustic sort of nonsense. Personally, I’d rather see some glitz and glamour—sparkle and shine. Like at our house.”
“But this is a rustic house,” he argued. “Just look around and—”
“All I want to look at right now is the master suite. And it better be on the ground floor.” She turned to her husband. “Do you happen to know where it’s located, Gary? Or must I go exploring this caveman house?”
“Caveman house?” Emma couldn’t help herself.
“Yes. That’s what it reminds me of. I expect to see Fred Flintstone coming around the corner any minute.” Mrs. Landers laughed.
“The Flintstone house was short and squat,” Gillian pointed out. “This one is tall.”
“Fine, it’s a tall caveman house. I prefer a single-level house.” She frowned at Mr. Landers. “Have you figured it out yet?”
He held up the paperwork, which appeared to include a floor plan. “Looks like the master suite is up on top.”
“On top?” She glared at him. “On top of what? Old Smokey?”
“On the third floor,” he said cautiously.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Does this place have an elevator?”
“No, no, I don’t think so.”
“You expect me to go up and down three flights of stairs with my sore knee?”
“Actually, it would only be two flights, Lisa.”
“Gary!”
He pointed to the paper. “According to this, there’s one bedroom on the first floor, and it looks like it has its own bath. We’ll just use that one.” He gave her directions, and after she left, he turned to Emma and Gillian. “And which bedrooms would you ladies like?”
“I don’t want the third floor either,” Gillian announced. “The only place I do stairs is at my fitness club.”
“Well, there are three bedrooms on the second floor. Take one of those.”
“I don’t mind a third-floor bedroom,” Emma told him. “Unless someone else wants it.”
“It’s all yours, Emma. That leaves the other two second-floor bedrooms for the guys. Sure you won’t mind being up there by yourself?”
“Not at all.” She paused at the foot of the stairs, trying to think of a way to encourage Gillian’s dad. The old guy was trying so hard . . . and no one seemed to appreciate it. “The third floor sounds heavenly to me. In fact, this whole house is just wonderful. I absolutely love it.”
“Listen to our little Pollyanna,” Gillian teased. “Which is probably why you always get invited back.”
“Thanks.” Emma made a face at her. “And thank you, Mr. Landers. I really do appreciate it. This house seems like the most perfect place to spend Christmas.”
“Well, I’m glad someone is happy.” Mr. Landers’s smile seemed grateful.
“I doubt the guys will mind you getting the third-floor room,” Gillian told Emma. “But I’m going to snag the best second-floor room before they come in.”
“I might have to bunk with one of the guys.” Mr. Landers chuckled. “If Lisa doesn’t get into a better mood.”
As Emma scaled the beautiful staircase, slowly going up two flights, she wasn’t so sure he was kidding. The way Gillian’s parents interacted was so different than her own parents. They rarely disagreed on anything. At least Mr. and Mrs. Landers cooled off quickly. Still, she longed for a relationship more like her parents’. If she ever found that special someone . . . someday . . . she hoped they wouldn’t waste a lot of precious time bickering.
five
West couldn’t believe he’d gotten trapped in his own home like this, but when that family suddenly burst in on him, he had just ducked into the kitchen to gather some food and drinks to take with him on his drive back to Denver. He’d already rescued his music, but realizing that snow was forecasted, which could mean a highway delay, he knew provisions were advisable. Even if he made it to Denver with no problem, he could be stuck there all night if he didn’t secure that standby seat. Airport food had its limitations, so taking his own just made sense. What didn’t make sense was that he’d allowed this unappreciative Arizona family to take over his home. Already, he didn’t like them.
Hiding out in the walk-in pantry, he’d overheard enough of their conversation to realize that one woman in particular—she sounded like the mom—was not the least bit happy to be here. She’d complained about everything from the location of the master suite to the Christmas decorations. What kind of woman complains about Christmas decorations? He stuffed a handful of energy bars into his backpack then, not hearing more voices, he peeked out to see if the coast was clear.
Convinced they were all settling into their rooms, West slipped out the back unnoticed. But when he got to the driveway, he realized his Jeep was blocked in by an oversized SUV. Looking up, he saw the sky was getting dark, and not just with dusky twilight. The clouds were heavy and gray. That snowstorm was coming earlier than predicted. He would be a fool to try to make it back to Denver in a blizzard. Besides that, his Jeep was blocked in.
He pulled out his phone. By now his family should have made it to Arizona. “Hey, Mom,” he said lightly after getting redirected to her voice mail. “Looks like I’ll be waylaid here for the night.” He explained the weather, promising to get out on the next available flight tomorrow, then hung up.
For a moment, he felt relieved at the thought of sleeping in his own bed tonight—and then he remembered his house had been taken over by aliens. Aliens from Arizona. Maybe he could write a humorous song about that. In the meantime, he’d have to sleep in his studio tonight. Fortunately, it was separate from the house and had a fairly comfortable Murphy bed—and it was not included in this stupid house swap. He did agree with Mrs. I-Hate-Everything on one thing—trading homes at Christmastime was completely ridiculous. Never again!
As he unlocked his studio, he considered unloading his Jeep, but then he’d just have to reload it again in the morning. Besides, he had a few necessities in the studio to get him by. He hadn’t felt the need for a studio when he’d purchased this house several years ago, but the property had been priced right and his manager had suggested West use it for a caretaker’s cottage. Instead, West had used it for himself and his music. And if he had company—like his family who always came for holidays—it was a great getaway. Because as much as he loved his three energetic nephews, he didn’t appreciate that they treated his musical instruments like toys. Still, he’d have been much happier if it were his family settling into the house—instead of those aliens from Arizona.
Although one of the aliens had sounded okay. Based on what he’d overheard, she wasn’t a member of the family, which might explain why she sounded nicer. Her name was Emma . . . and she seemed to like his house. In fact, he’d felt relieved to hear she was the one who’d occupy his bedroom. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind the dead bolt on his walk-in closet door. He’d had it installed after his mother announced the house-swapping plan. Then he’d stashed all his personal items in there and locked it. There were empty drawers in the bureau that this Emma person could use. He wondered what she looked like. He’d liked the sound of her voice, but
for all he knew, she could be fifty years old and built like a linebacker. Still, he didn’t think so.
Not liking the idea of leaving his music in the Jeep all night, West decided to slip out there and retrieve it. Maybe he’d even work on the desert springs song tonight. Gunner had been nagging him to finish that one. West was just opening the back of his Jeep when the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow came from behind him. Startled, he turned to see a blonde woman approaching.
“What are you doing with that Jeep?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
He blinked, trying to think of an answer that wouldn’t give away his identity. For some reason, he didn’t want to reveal—to any of the Arizona aliens—that he was the owner of the house they were using. He didn’t want to experience their judgment or listen to their complaints or be expected to provide anything other than what they were getting. He just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible without any actual interaction.
“I’m just getting something.” He slammed the back of the Jeep closed before she could see his luggage inside then tucked the leather case beneath his arm, studying her with curiosity. Was this how Arizona people dressed? She wore a fur-trimmed pale blue jacket that looked brand new and not much good for skiing.
“Getting something or stealing something?” she demanded.
“I’m getting something.” He held up the leather case. “This happens to belong to me—thank you very much.”
“And does that Jeep belong to you too? Because I understand it belongs with the house.”
“Well, yes, it does belong with the house.” He tried to think of a way out of this. “But as it turns out, I’m the caretaker of the house. So I have use of the Jeep.” There, that should put an end to this inquisition.
“Really? How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could be a thief.” She nodded to the fancy SUV. “Maybe you were going to break into that next. Looks like I came out just in time to rescue my purse.” She unlocked a door, reached inside, then slamming the door, she locked it again.
The Christmas Swap Page 3