by Tara Sivec
“Good morning, sunshine!” Millie says with a bright smile. “I’m sorry to say there’s no room service. But I learned how to make toast and it was so cute! I also had real butter for the first time since I was eleven, and God as my witness, I wept. Right there at the tiny table in the tiny kitchen, eating toast off of a plate from a department store, I—”
“Millie!” I shout, throwing my arms out and making wide, crazy eyes at all the decorations, flailing one hand at the sweater she’s wearing, followed by a smack of that hand against the comforter someone replaced over my sleeping body in the middle of the night.
The fluffy, warm, and luxurious comforter I want to motorboat and never come out from under, but that’s not the point!
“Oh! Yes, I’m sure all this is very jarring before coffee.” Millie nods, glancing around the room. “Jen woke up extra early and decorated this place before Jason woke up. I guess it’s some sort of family tradition they were supposed to do last night, and he wasn’t feeling it, so she wanted to surprise him. FYI, he’s not happy, so keep your distance. Anyway, I told her to go on ahead and come in here and decorate, because you sleep like the dead. I even helped! See that wooden sign hanging on the wall over by the door that says Have yourself a merry little Christmas? I pointed to that spot and told her she should put it there.” Millie looks over at the sign and nods approvingly.
“What time is it? How long have you been up?” I ask, sliding out of bed and glancing out the window framed with lights, groaning when I see it’s still snowing pretty hard.
“Oh, I haven’t slept yet. But I believe it’s around eight. Jen also taught me how to make my own coffee in that cute little Keurig machine. I’ve had seven cups. Wait, no. Nine,” she says with a shrug, reaching behind her and grabbing a mug she set down in the Christmas village on the dresser, in between a little ceramic figurine of a woman carrying an armful of presents, and a town hall with wreaths all over the windows.
A mug that says I just want to watch Hallmark Christmas movies all day in red-and-green script.
“What is happening right now?” I whisper, shaking my head and staring at her as she sips from her Christmas mug, wearing a Christmas sweater, in a room that looks like the North Pole threw up on it.
“Well, for one, I’m wearing synthetic fibers and an unidentified cotton blend, so that should be cause for alarm,” Millie states, gingerly pulling the sweater away from her chest with her thumb and forefinger. “But Jen gave it to me because she thought I was cold, and I didn’t want to be rude, since they welcomed us into this tiny, yurt-like building for the evening.”
Setting her mug back down in the Christmas village, she walks over to me and grabs both of my hands.
“I don’t want you to panic, but your hope of ignoring Christmas might be for naught. It seems this Redinger family is a little Christmas crazy. Less is more. I’m going to give Marie Kondo a call when I have a signal again. Maybe see if she can FaceTime an emergency meeting with them,” Millie says, squeezing my hands. “But let’s focus on you. What’s happening right now is immersion therapy, Allie, and you need to just embrace it. I’ve been doing it with Prada for years now, just buying, and buying, and surrounding myself with Prada, in the hopes that I’ll actually love Prada again, ever since that disastrous summer collection. I really feel like I’m getting close to a breakthrough.”
Millie lets go of my hands and walks over to the end of the bed, picking up a red sweater I didn’t notice lying there and tossing it to me. Unfolding it and holding it up in front of me, I see the words Gangster Wrapper has been stitched on it, as well as lots and lots of multicolored bows.
“Immerse yourself, Allie,” Millie orders. “Feel the Christmas spirit, and maybe eventually you’ll start to not loathe the holiday so much. I must say, while their taste in holiday décor is repulsive, I appreciate their enthusiasm and dedication. Well, aside from Jason. He seems to share your distaste for Christmas. All he did was stomp around muttering while Jen decorated. But he’s adorable, in an average sort of way. I would not disapprove of you feeling his spirit while you’re on this excursion. A little Christmas fling, if you will. He’s not my type. He’s too poor. But you should totally go for him.”
I laugh out loud at her. I don’t date, and she knows this.
Even though Jason smells really good, looks even better, opened his home to two complete strangers, and his laugh made my insides tingle, I don’t date. Ever. And I definitely don’t do flings. I’m not some wilting virgin or anything; it’s just impossible to go out with someone and not have the entire world know about it five seconds after it begins when your sisters are Tori and Zoey Parker. It’s also impossible to find a genuine guy in L.A. who isn’t dating you just because he wants to be on the show, or even worse, is just using you to date one of your sisters. It’s easier to not even try, than to continue being disappointed all the time.
“Not gonna happen,” I tell her. “He knows who I am, and he’s not going to want anything to do with me, even if I was interested. Which I’m not.”
You big, fat liar.
“I’m here to figure out my life, not find a man. I don’t need a man.”
“Your vagina says otherwise. She spoke to me last night while you were sleeping. She said, ‘Millie, help me! I’m starting to fossilize,’” she says, her voice going up a few octaves. “Also, you were passed out and didn’t see how he was with you. He’s definitely interested. He looked at you the way I look at my Bulgari sunglasses.”
“He spent all of five minutes with me while I was conscious. There’s no way you know that,” I scoff, pulling the Christmas sweater on because I’m freezing, wondering why I’m even spending a second arguing about this.
I don’t need a man. I don’t want a man. I need a fulfilling life that makes me happy. That’s it.
“When you started tipping forward in the snow, I’ve never seen someone move so fast,” Millie starts to explain. “He scooped you up like a fireman and went charging up the hill with you cradled in his arms, barking orders to me about how to start the snowmobile. And as soon as he got you inside, he wouldn’t stop fussing over you. Gave you a blanket because you were cold, then took it off because he was afraid you’d overheat, then made Jen take off your wet shoes because he didn’t want you to think it was weird that he took off any item on your person while you were passed out, and absolutely would not let you have wet little tootsies for a second longer. And let’s not forget how he brushed your hair out of your eyes and cradled your face in his hands to make sure you were okay before he started taking off his snowsuit and all that winter gear. It was a strange sensation, being in a room with a man and not having him offer to buy me jewelry or give me his yacht, but I like this for you, poor mountain man and all. If I had a heart, I’m sure it would have skipped a beat.”
When Millie finishes rambling about what happened while I was out last night, I’m suddenly really warm, and I regret putting this sweater on. I feel tingly, and sweaty, and itchy, and I kind of want to giggle and ask Millie to tell me again, but slower this time, especially the part about him cradling my face.
For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me? Now I’m going to be all nervous and weird around this guy, and I just want to relax. Uuuggh!
“Good morning!” Jen says, knocking on the bedroom door that’s open a crack as Millie walks over and opens it wider for her. “Sorry if I woke you with the Christmas music. I had it down low while I was decorating, but Millie insisted I turn it up.”
“I’m loving it!” Millie says with a shimmy of her body.
“If it’s okay with you guys, we’ll be able to take you over to the bed-and-breakfast in a little bit, so you can finally shower and get settled in,” Jen says. “Unfortunately, we still can’t drive on the roads, but that’s why everyone who lives around here has snowmobiles. My husband came and got Maddy earlier, and he’ll be coming back with one of the maintenance guys from The Redinger House on an extra snowmobile, so they can take you both
at once.”
“Oh, Jason won’t be joining us?” Millie asks innocently, but I know her better.
She’s plotting something. It’s never good when Millie starts plotting something. Someone winds up in jail or in another country next to naked people.
“No, he went up to the bed-and-breakfast a little bit ago, because he couldn’t get a signal and had to get some stuff done for work I think.”
“So he does have employment. The lack of a chef made me wonder.” Millie laughs.
Jen laughs right along with her, thankfully understanding already that Millie is so… Millie.
“He’s a general contractor. Works for a huge company, much to my father’s annoyance. My mom does all the baking and taking care of the inside of The Redinger House, along with a few people who have been with us for years who are like family. My husband does maintenance. I handle all the marketing and social media, and my dad does all of the finances and anything else he sees that needs taken care of. His dream was always for all of us to run the place together then take over when my parents retire, but Jason had other dreams. He helps out when he can, but it’s few and far between. He’s always busy with work, so we probably won’t see him much,” Jen finishes. “If you guys want to follow me, we can get Allie some coffee I’m sure she’s dying for, and get her some breakfast before the guys get here.”
As we both follow Jen out of the bedroom and down the hall, I feel a pang of disappointment that Jason isn’t here, which is just ridiculous. I don’t even know this guy. But as we emerge from the hallway, I am happy to see Christmas didn’t explode all over the rest of the cabin. There’s just a few stockings hanging from the mantle, two Christmas throw pillows tossed onto the couch with a matching Christmas blanket folded over the back, and a strand of pine garland with white lights wrapped around the bannister that leads to the upstairs.
Jen notices me taking in the lack of decorations when she hands me a coffee mug from the kitchen counter and points to the Keurig in the corner so I can help myself.
“I got tired of my brother’s glares and muttering, so I stuck most of the decorations in the spare bedroom where you were for the time being, just so he’d stop bitching,” Jen explains with a roll of her eyes as I help myself to the basket of pods next to the machine and make myself a cup of coffee. “He’s not usually so annoying, but we’re down a few people at The Redinger House, so my parents have been calling him non-stop since five this morning for help, on top of his actual job, so he’s a little on edge.”
“And us crashing his place, literally, I’m sure didn’t make anything better. Plus the fact that your family had to make last minute arrangements for us at their place,” I tell her, feeling awful.
“No! It’s fine. I promise,” Jen reassures me. “My parents live for this shit, helping lost, weary travelers and all that. It’s why they opened The Redinger House. And don’t worry about Jason. He needs to loosen up anyway.”
Jen excuses herself to clean up some of the decorating mess she left upstairs and didn’t get to yet, leaving Millie and me alone in the kitchen so I can finish my coffee before our ride gets here.
“Did you hear that?” Millie asks as I close my eyes and take a sip of coffee. “The mountain man needs to loosen up. You need to loosen up. If we play our cards right, this could turn out like that time I was in Dubai, but without that unfortunate stabbing.”
“We’re not playing any cards,” I remind her, keeping my eyes closed and continuing to enjoy my coffee while pretending like I’m not wearing a Christmas sweater that is surprisingly soft and kind of adorable. “I still fully plan on hibernating until December twenty-sixth when we get to the bed-and-breakfast.”
Millie laughs at me, and I finally open my eyes to glare at her over the rim of my coffee mug.
“You’re too precious for this earth,” she says, laughing again.
“Nothing says Merry Christmas like sticking your hand up Santa’s ass.”
Millie is still laughing five minutes after we’ve walked into the lobby of The Redinger House, wiping away tears as we wait for Mrs. Redinger to come out from the kitchen and check us in.
Jen’s husband Brian and the extra maintenance worker—who Millie sexually harassed on our snowmobile ride over—dropped us off, and then Brian went back to Jason’s place to grab Jen. The worker barely slowed his snowmobile down before shoving Millie off, so I’m assuming he’s fled the country by now.
“All right, that’s enough.” I sigh, resting my elbows on the counter in the entryway of the home.
After the ten-minute ride around the base of the mountain from Jason’s house with my eyes closed the entire time, because of the snow and the wind blowing so badly, I couldn’t see much of the outside of the large white colonial when we pulled up. I just wanted to run inside as fast as I could and get warm. From what I saw during my eyes-half-open stumble-run through the drifts and up onto the porch, there were just some tastefully draped pine garland around the porch railings and pillars with red bows. Naturally, I assumed the inside would be toned down as well.
Naturally, I assumed wrong.
“Does it make me a bad person if your misery is bringing me quite a lot of enjoyment right now?” Millie snorts, laughter still bubbling up out of her every few seconds as she tries to contain herself. “Oh, what do I care? Being nice is for the underprivileged and people from Minnesota. Embrace the immersion therapy, Allie.”
So much for continuing to ignore Christmas once I got here.
Scanning the front entryway of the home, I see it has huge open doorways on either side, one leading to what looks to be a sitting room with a fireplace, and the other a large dining room. Every part of the entryway we’re standing in and those two rooms is covered in Christmas from the floor to the ceiling. Paintings hanging on the walls have been covered and wrapped with different styles of Christmas paper. Garlands and multicolored twinkle lights line every inch of the crown molding up at the ceiling and frame all of the doorways, the edges of bookshelves and curio cabinets, and all the window frames. From where I’m standing, I’ve counted fifteen of those animated Christmas dolls whose arms slowly raise and lower and heads just kind of roll around on their necks. There’s a Santa holding a candle, Santa holding a list, Mrs. Claus swaying with a tray of cookies, Victorian carolers holding caroling books, and snowmen repeatedly tipping their hats. There are Christmas trees of all shapes and sizes standing in corners, sitting on tables, and even a tree with no back, hanging on the wall behind the front desk. Christmas music is playing softly from the computer on the counter, the inside edges of the all the windows have been sprayed with that fake snow stuff, and Christmas window clings take up the rest of the glass surfaces.
I am in Christmas hell.
“Merry Christmas, my poor, exhausted travelers!” a woman in her late fifties with a blonde bob calls to us as she appears from a hallway next to the counter, wearing a red apron that says We whisk you a Merry Christmas.
Before I can say anything to her, she rushes over and wraps her arms around me.
“You must be Allie! I’m Joy Redinger, Jason and Jennifer’s mom,” she introduces, giving me a tight squeeze and letting me go before I can even register the fact that a stranger just hugged me.
She’s warm and soft, hugged me like she’s known me forever, and smells like sugar cookies. I’m so used to handshakes and air kisses that I forgot what it was like to be greeted by genuinely nice people. For just one second, I let myself think about my granny and being in her kitchen while she made Christmas cookies when I was little. It makes a little bit of the ice thaw around my heart, but when a motion-activated Santa sitting on the counter next to me drops his red velvet pants and starts shaking his pale, plastic butt cheeks back and forth while “Jingle Bells” plays from a little speaker by his feet, the melting ice freezes right back up.
When Mrs. Redinger moves away from me to give Millie a hug, it’s my turn to try not to laugh as I watch the horror all over Millie’s fac
e when Joy wraps her arms around my best friend’s stiff body and squeezes tight.
“Thank you so much for making last-minute room for us, Mrs. Redinger. I can’t thank you enough. I heard you’re really busy, and I feel awful putting you out,” I tell her when she finally lets go of Millie, and I watch Millie finally take her first breath again.
“Nonsense! And call me Joy,” she orders, moving away from us to go back behind the counter. “What’s the point of owning a bed-and-breakfast if you can’t give people a place to stay when they need it?”
She types a few things into her computer, explaining to us while she types that once the snow stops falling so hard, we’ll be able to go outside and actually see the rest of the businesses on the small road on this side of Snowfall Mountain. She lists three inns, one other bed-and-breakfast, a general store, a pizza place, and one boutique.
“If you continue driving on this road for about another half-hour, you’ll get to the other side of the mountain,” Joy explains. “That’s where the ski resorts are, the five-star lodges and spas, and upscale dining and shopping.”
“I believe I just had an orgasm,” Millie whispers under her breath from behind me while Joy continues.
“Once the roads clear and we figure out what’s going on with your car, you girls can head over there and check it out.”
“My car? I thought it was just stuck in a snowdrift?”
Just then, the front door opens behind us, blowing in snow as Jen quickly comes inside, struggling for a few seconds to shut the door behind her.
“You can’t even see Gibson’s from here. This snow is ridiculous,” Jen complains, removing her winter gear and hanging it on a hook by the front door, kicking her boots off, and putting them next to mine and Millie’s that we left there when we walked in.
“I was just telling Allie about her car,” Joy tells Jen as she joins her mom behind the counter. “Jason went out and looked at it as soon as he woke up this morning. Said you must have ran right over a boulder he has at the end of his driveway. He’s pretty sure you did some damage to the underneath. He’s been on the phone all morning trying to get it towed to a mechanic.”
