by Lisa Plumley
One of the passengers in line behind Karina groaned. Another gave her a poke in the arm. “Hey, can you hurry him up?”
“Well.” Karina gave a nervous titter. Maybe some humor would help? “He did say he was a genius at that thing, so—”
An expletive cut her off. Someone in line grumbled.
Karina raised both arms in her most contrite pose, addressing all the people who wanted to use the bathroom. If only the flight attendant weren’t being so unreasonable about letting them use the first-class restroom, this wouldn’t have been a problem for anyone. The first-class facilities were, of course, totally free.
“Maybe Santa will bring you a Rubik’s Cube for Christmas,” she told Josh through the door. “If you put one on your wish list, he’ll know you want one. You could do that, right?”
The door opened a sliver. Josh appeared, still holding the puzzle toy. His lips wobbled in an uncertain smile as he held up the Rubik’s Cube to show her its same-colored sides. “Did it.”
His brown-eyed gaze, so similar to Eric’s, beseeched her to approve. Karina felt her heart give an impossible tug.
“Congratulations, hotshot.” She hauled Josh into her arms and hugged him. “I guess you really are a genius at that thing.”
Her little boy hugged her, too, his arms tight around her middle. “That man wasn’t even using it.” Josh spoke in a low voice, his head pressed against her shoulder. “He was snoring!”
Karina thought about the rude passenger in front of her. “Yeah. There’s a lot of that going around on airplanes.”
“I didn’t steal it,” Josh went on. “I only borrowed it! I just wanted to finish it before I gave it back, that’s all.”
Karina wanted to believe him. But something about his statement niggled at her. Last month, Josh had “borrowed” his friend’s new iPod nano—until the boy’s mother had called to request its return. Last week, Josh had “borrowed” the hamster that served as his class’s mascot—cage and all—and had fibbed to Karina that his teacher had asked him to take the creature home for safekeeping. Only a few days ago, her sweet little boy had “borrowed” a few extra cookies from the after-school snacks cache in the cupboard, oblivious to the impossibility of ever “returning” a half dozen already eaten cookies.
Affectionately, Karina ruffled Josh’s hair. She set him apart from her in the cramped airplane space, the better to deliver him a serious maternal look. “I think you need a refresher course on what ‘borrowing’ means, young man.”
“You need a ‘refresher course’ on not raising a juvenile delinquent!” someone shouted from the line. “Move already!”
“Yeah, lady! You and your kid get out of the way!”
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant motioned to Karina. “We’re going to be making our descent toward Grand Rapids in a few minutes, so if you would please take your seat?” She addressed everyone else. “That means the captain will be turning on the FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign. Everyone will need to be in their seats, with their tray tables in the locked and upright position.”
The people in the bathroom line shuffled mutinously.
Six baleful gazes shifted toward Karina and Josh, each filled with murderous intent and—most likely—a forcibly subdued urge to use the airplane bathroom. Protectively shielding Josh with her arm, Karina ignored those barbed glares. She guided the two of them back to row seventeen, feeling as though the two of them might be spitballed at any second.
She motioned for Josh to return the Rubik’s Cube to its rightful owner. The businessman glared at him, but accepted it.
Just to be on the safe side—in case there were any grudges left lingering—Karina took Josh’s former seat next to the man. She let Josh slip into Olivia’s previous place on the aisle. Beside him in the middle seat, Olivia was still explaining the Santa situation—very matter-of-factly—to a wide-eyed Michael.
“…it’s simple,” she was telling her brother. “The reindeer have GPS units installed in their antlers. That’s how they navigate. That’s why Rudolph is the best of all. He’s the prototype.” She drew in a breath. “The robo prototype!”
“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is a robot?” Michael sounded horrified—and fascinated. He examined Olivia’s face as she nodded in affirmation. He scrunched up his nose. “No wonder his nose glows! No ordinary reindeer could do that!”
“That’s right,” Olivia said. “And wait till you hear what Santa’s elves are really making in his toy shop….”
Settling in her new seat, Karina leaned back her head.
Whew. Made it. She closed her eyes. Just for an instant.
Christmas vacation, take me away! Now more than ever, she needed a relaxing getaway. And so, it seemed, did her children.
They were all about to get one, too. If The Christmas House B&B could do half the things it promised—make gift shopping fun and easy, offer ready-made treats and holiday meals, supply seasonal activities, ensure merry times and family togetherness—it deserved to be franchised by Edgware. It really did.
Personally, she could hardly wait to find out how it fared.
“That’s right. You heard me,” Robert Sullivan said. “We want to unload this place. It’s time. It’s past time.”
Reid gawked at his grandfather. He’d knocked on the door, rushed inside the B&B, hugged everyone, then demanded to know what the dire emergency was. Instead, his grandfather had come out with…Well, Reid still couldn’t believe it.
Completely confused, he shook his head. Maybe if he went along with them, this would all make sense eventually. To that end, Reid repeated, “You want to sell The Christmas House?”
“Yes,” Betty Sullivan confirmed. Appearing wholly well and vibrantly fit in her jeans, boots, and turtleneck sweater, she moved about the B&B’s cozy front room, supplying her eager great-granddaughters and their nanny/tutor with iced sugar cookies. “We’ve been trying to sell for five years now.”
“Every time we have a sale lined up…Bam!” Reid’s grandfather slammed his fist in his hand, making an exasperated sound. “The holiday season rolls around, we get all nostalgic, and we end up cancelling the deal. But not this year!”
He slid his gaze to the pile of luggage that had been neatly arranged at the landing. The arched stairway beyond it led to the house’s second and third floors, where the B&B’s guests stayed—and where Reid’s grandparents had always lived.
Reid counted. There had to be at least twelve suitcases there, plus a few garment bags and a packed duffel. Clearly, traveling light wasn’t necessarily embedded in the Sullivan family genes.
“We’ve been trying to retire for years now.” His grandmother set down the tray of cookies on an ottoman near the fireplace. She took a seat opposite Reid, appearing entirely indifferent to the gaily decorated Douglas fir that stretched to ceiling height beside her, sparkling and flashing. “But this time, we went all the way with our plans.” She took Reid’s hand between both of hers, her grasp as warm as her smile. “This time, we put a big down payment on a new house in Arizona.”
Taken aback, Reid asked, “You’re serious then?”
“Quarter of a million dollars’ worth of serious!”
At his grandfather’s good-natured outburst, Reid couldn’t help smiling. For as long as he could remember, Robert Sullivan had always been generous with love, treats, and surreptitious ten-dollar bills for his grandchildren. But he’d also always been careful with money, to the point of doing most of the repairs on the B&B himself. He’d painted and caulked, plumbed and tiled…he’d even helped construct one of the outbuildings.
In a very real sense, The Christmas House was a labor of love, handmade by Robert Sullivan (with a lot of help from Betty). The B&B was practically a part of the Sullivan family. It was their legacy. It was the place where all the other Sullivans—most of whom lacked Reid’s wanderlust and still lived in Kismet—gathered for the holidays every year. That was why Reid found himself still shaking his head dubiously.
On th
e other hand, if his grandfather was willing to pony up a cool quarter million to make sure his Arizona retirement was secure…Well, that was serious. Really serious.
Never mind the emergency just then, Reid decided. He could see that both his grandparents appeared happy. That was enough for now. For right now. Later, he’d get to the bottom of that cryptic phone call, he promised himself. In the meantime…
Retirement? Selling? It couldn’t be true.
Reid knew his grandparents had been talking about retirement for years. But as each holiday season had come and gone—with Robert and Betty still ensconced at The Christmas House—he’d taken their avowed eagerness to retire less and less seriously. So had the rest of the family. It had almost become a family legend. Right. Then Grandpa’s going to retire. Ha!
Now it seemed the joke was on them. His grandparents gave every impression of sincerity this time, right down to the packed luggage at the foot of the stairs. Not to mention the new Arizona logoed golf visor his grandfather was wearing. Hmmm…
“I can’t imagine this place without you,” Reid said.
“Well, you’re going to have to imagine it!” Robert informed him. He smiled at his great-granddaughters, who perched on the sofa on either side of him, happily crunching iced cookies. “Because it’s happening. By this time tomorrow, your grandmother and I will be hitting the golf course, working on our tans—”
“Figuratively speaking, of course,” Betty assured him. “We always wear sunscreen and protective clothing, and we make sure to stay out of the sun between eleven and three every day. You can’t be too careful when it comes to sun exposure, you know.”
“—and enjoying the high life. I might even set up my model trains again. Our new place at Carina del Mundo—”
“‘Home of the world’?” Alexis translated. “Must be big.”
“—has plenty of room. Room this overstuffed house never had!” Robert gestured at the B&B’s front room. It was fully decorated with lights, embellished holiday pillows, bowls of ornaments and clove-studded orange pomanders, fat flickering candles, and even topiaries made of holly and mistletoe. “And we won’t have any damn visitors for at least the first year!”
“Robert!” Betty protested.
“Sorry. ‘Darn’ visitors. For at least a year!”
Puzzled, Reid examined them. “I thought you liked company. I thought that’s why you enjoyed running the B&B so much.”
“Company, yes,” his grandmother said. “But there are limits. We’re getting on in years, you know. We want to relax.”
His grandfather nodded at that. Vigorously.
“And we want some time to ourselves.” His grandfather gave Betty a grinning, lascivious wink. “If you know what I mean.”
Reid nodded. It was a peculiarly American mind-set to believe that people stopped being interested in sex when they got older. In other parts of the world, people understood that a fulfilling life included plenty of whoopee. No matter your age.
“That’s why we want to retire. Now. Before it’s too late.”
Reid could hardly fault them for wanting to enjoy their golden years. He definitely wanted them to be happy. Still…
What about the emergency? What about that phone call?
Reid shot a glance at Alexis. She bit her lip, appearing to be thinking the same thing he was. What about what’s wrong?
“All right. I hear you,” Reid said. “I understand that it can’t be easy to run this place, year in and year out.”
His grandparents traded an enigmatic look.
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” his grandfather said. He chuckled. “Most of the time, The Christmas House practically runs itself.”
“It really does,” his grandmother assured him—pointlessly, since Reid was already busy preparing himself for the worst.
“All right. Fine.” He got to his feet. He paced across the room, absently noting the presence of at least three dancing Santa figurines and one fireplace mantel full of already hung stockings. They even had names embroidered on their cuffs: Karina. Josh. Olivia. Michael. Suzanne. Rocky. Neil. “But when Alexis told me about that satellite call, I got the impression there was more to this story than a simple urge to retire. You could have told me about that over the phone, any one of the dozens of times I called. Or did no one give you my messages?”
His grandmother gazed at him dotingly. “Look at him, pacing around like that, Bob. Reid still can’t sit still, even at his age. It’s just like when he was little. Isn’t that cute?”
“You always were a rowdy one,” Robert confirmed fondly.
Wheeling around, Reid confronted them. “Just tell me: Which one of you is sick? Exactly what’s wrong? And how can I help?”
At his anguished tone, Nicole gawked. Amanda paused with a cookie halfway to her mouth, compelled by the unexpected drama to quit eating. His grandparents…laughed. Laughed!
“No one is ill,” his grandfather said. “We’re quite well.”
“I do water aerobics at the Y three times a week!”
Reid didn’t believe them. “Then what’s the emergency?”
Alexis and Nicole exchanged a furtive look.
So did his grandparents. Did everyone have a secret around here?
Reid felt too overwrought to contemplate the notion much further. “Enough about The Christmas House,” he said roughly. “Enough about Arizona! I want to know the real reason you called me. And don’t talk to me about going ten under par or taking up saguaro gardening, because I won’t buy it.”
“Saguaro gardening,” his grandmother mused. “Good idea!”
“We already told you,” his grandfather insisted. “We called you here because we want to sell The Christmas House—and we want your help with it. It’ll be easy. We already have—”
Newly alert, Reid stopped. “My help? You want my help?”
“—a deal lined up with a global hospitality company. They’re called Edgware. You might have heard of them?”
“They’re big. Your cousin hooked us up with them.”
“It’s almost a done deal,” Robert rushed on, all business now. “All that’s left is for the B&B to undergo a mandatory anonymous evaluation, just to prove that we’re all shipshape—”
“Which, of course, we are!”
“—and the deal will go through. It’s worth big money.”
“Really big money,” his grandmother emphasized hastily. She gave a firm nod. “Believe me, hospitality companies aren’t exactly lining up to invest in small inns like ours, especially these days, and especially around here. It’s only because our all-inclusive holiday vacation concept is so unique—”
“We were featured on Good Morning, Kismet!”
“—that The Christmas House is under consideration at all. This is an opportunity we can’t afford to pass up.”
They both stopped for breath, seeming to have run out of chatty arguments for selling the B&B. Uncertainly, his grandparents glanced at each other. Then, hopefully, at Reid.
A certain tension filled the air. It felt a lot like the anxiety Reid sensed whenever one of his adventure travel clients had been less than truthful with him. Maybe about preparedness. Maybe about fitness. Maybe about his or her goals for undertaking a wilderness trek. Either way, it wasn’t good.
At the fireplace mantel, Reid paused too. He thought about what he knew so far. Then, with sudden insight, he turned.
“You staked your new retirement house on this deal.”
His grandparents swapped uncomfortable looks.
“You literally can’t afford to pass this up,” he added, “because you’ve already spent the money you’ll get from the sale. If it goes through.” He turned. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Silence descended. Amanda reached for another cookie.
Snowflakes drifted past the windowpane, making Reid shiver. It was warm inside, especially by the cheery crackling fire, but his reaction had nothing to do with the wintery weather—and everything to do with the
abrupt letdown of the adrenaline rush that had brought him here. He’d been so fraught with worry. So determined to take charge. And now…Now he was merely baffled.
Why would his grandparents gamble with their future this way? Staking the B&B was crazy—especially if there were hoops to jump through before the sale could be finalized. A “mandatory anonymous evaluation” sounded like a pretty big hoop to him.
If the Edgware franchising deal fell through, Betty and Robert would be out of luck—and unable to pay for their new retirement home in Arizona, too. Given the current real estate market, they’d be unlikely to sell the B&B to anyone else.
“You have to understand.” His grandmother wrung her hands, her wedding rings sparkling. “You’re our very last hope, Reid.”
“Hope for what?” He frowned, still confused.
“For helping us sell The Christmas House!” his grandfather said. “We need you to handle things—to make sure the sale goes through as planned. That’s why we called you.”
“But I don’t know anything about real estate.”
“You don’t have to!” his grandmother hurried to assure him. “All you have to do is make sure things run smoothly while the secret Edgware evaluator is here. It will be a piece of cake.”
“Then you should do it. You’re the ones with experience running a B&B,” Reid pointed out—reasonably, he thought.
“If we try to do it, we’re likely to get all sentimental. Again,” his grandfather said. “And we’ll end up cancelling the deal. Again. This time, as you said, we can’t do that.”
Because our retirement depends on it. They didn’t have to say the words aloud. The truth was evident. “Then don’t cancel.”
“It’s not as simple as that.” Patiently, his grandmother folded her hands in her lap. “The evaluation has to happen at Christmastime, because that’s when the B&B is at its best. But that’s also when your grandfather and I feel the most attached to this place. We’ve made a lot of happy memories here, Reid, especially holiday memories. If we try to do this ourselves, I just know what will happen: One minute, I’ll be demonstrating how to make paper cutout snowflakes to our guests…and the next I’ll be bawling into the eggnog and begging Bob to stop the sale.”
