It was Whitney’s first time meeting Trey but he was Troy’s twin and easy to recognize.
She shook hands with him and handed over Daisy, asking him to please take good care of her and make sure she stayed warm and had a good lunch, too. “She’s never done a lot of sledding,” Whitney cautioned him, “so maybe go with her the first couple of times, until she’s ready to sled on her own?”
Trey laughed. “You sound just like Cormac. He said the exact same thing, except he insisted I sled with her every time and not to let her go on her own.”
“She’s loved.”
“Yes, she is,” Trey agreed, putting his hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “And don’t worry. Nothing will happen to her. Not on my watch.”
*
Despite the heavy snow, which had closed local schools and delayed opening of many businesses, the Graff was a hub of activity as the lobby prepared for the Marietta Stroll’s annual gingerbread house competition. Long tables were set up around the Christmas tree and covered with dark green banquet cloths and then after lunch the first of the elaborate gingerbread houses began to arrive.
It was only December fourth, but it was already beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.
While waiting for Daisy to return, Whitney wandered around the lobby, admiring the gingerbread houses on display. She was inspecting a gingerbread house when Kris entered the hotel with his customary jingle walk.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted her. “Where is our girl?”
“Sledding with her uncle and aunt and cousin. She should be back soon, though.”
“I have something for you,” he said.
“A joke?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy cane and presented it to her. “Would you rather have a joke?”
She took the candy cane. “Can’t I have both?”
He chuckled. “What do you call a kid who doesn’t believe in Santa?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, tugging the cellophane from the candy.
“A rebel without a Claus.”
She laughed. “I like that one. I think it’s my favorite so far.”
“I have plenty more.”
“I don’t doubt it.” She fell into step, walking with him across the lobby to where he sat in his big gold chair with the backdrop of a dark red velvet curtain. “Can I ask you something, Kris?”
“I’ll answer if I can.”
“What does Daisy want for Christmas? What has she told you?”
He peered at her over the rim of his gold wire glasses. “Have you asked her?”
“Yes. And she said it’s a secret surprise.”
“Then I can’t say.”
“But Kris, if we don’t know what it is, how can we make sure we have it under the tree for her?”
“Well, maybe you can’t put it under the tree.”
“But you’ve promised her—”
“I didn’t promise her. I said I would help. There’s a difference.”
“I’m not sure a four-year-old understands the difference.”
He adjusted his big belt, settling it more comfortably over his broad middle and then tugged on each sleeve, making sure his red plush coat fit just so. “I think four-year-olds understand better than anyone that it takes faith. We talked about this before. Nothing good happens in this world without faith, hope, and love.”
And then his teenage helper elf in the green velvet coat with the green and white striped leggings appeared and he sat down in his chair.
Whitney walked away, not at all satisfied. She liked Kris, she did, but his answer was incredibly unsettling. She could see why Cormac was worried. She was worried now, too.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Cormac still couldn’t return and Whitney stayed with Daisy again Friday night. They went to bed aware that tomorrow’s Marietta Stroll was in danger of being cancelled, something that had only happened once or twice in the fifty years, but when they woke, the sun was shining and late morning snow plows started clearing streets. By noon, all the shop owners on Main Street had shoveled the sidewalks in front of their stores.
It looked as if the Marietta Stroll was going to happen after all.
“Is Daddy ever coming back?” Daisy asked.
“Yes,” Whitney answered firmly, because of course Cormac would return. She was just hoping for Daisy’s sake he’d return tonight so he could do the Marietta Stroll, as Daisy couldn’t imagine Cormac not being there for tonight’s holiday festivities.
Cormac didn’t disappoint. He landed at the Bozeman airport late afternoon and reached the hotel just as it started to grow dark and all the colorful lights on Main Street turned on.
Whitney had Daisy already bundled up to go explore and they waited in the lobby, checking out the winners of the gingerbread competition while Cormac went upstairs to change and put on warmer clothes.
That night it felt like they walked miles, up and down Main Street more than once, checking out all the shops with their decorated windows, listening to carolers, getting a cup of cocoa from Copper Mountain Chocolates before heading to the courthouse so Daisy could go on the wagon ride with Trey and TJ. McKenna was off taking pictures tonight, the official photographer for tonight’s stroll and Cormac was happy to let Daisy go with Trey and TJ on the wagon.
“How was it in LA?” Whitney asked as the wagon pulled away.
“Interesting.” He hesitated. “Do you know who I met with in LA?”
She shook her head.
“Hartag Media,” he said.
She arched her eyebrows. That was interesting. She’d recommended he acquire Hartag Media a couple years ago but the price was too steep. “And?” she prodded.
“Something may happen.”
Her brows rose higher. “That’s good.”
“Can’t run something like that from here, though. And I can’t live there. I won’t live in LA. Or New York. I want Daisy raised here. Where else can you get all this?” he asked, gesturing to the colored lights of Main Street.
She opened her mouth then closed it. It wasn’t her business. It was his.
When the horse drawn wagon returned, Daisy jumped into Cormac’s arms and told him she was hungry.
“She didn’t eat much earlier,” Whitney said. “I think she was too excited.”
“Let’s eat then,” he said. He glanced at Whitney. “You’re coming.”
“Is that an invitation or a demand?”
“An invitation.”
“I accept. I’m starving.”
They crossed the street and entered the diner, which was quiet since everyone else in Marietta seemed to be out strolling up and down Main Street.
Cormac led the way to one of the booths lining the wall, and after peeling off his coat, he reached for hers and hung them both on a hook. “This is a good idea,” he said, sitting down next to Daisy. “I think all I’ve had today is coffee.”
The waitress came by with menus.
“Any specials?” Cormac asked hopefully.
“We had a lot of prime rib left over from last night so the cook’s been making huge French dips.”
“I’ll have one of those,” Cormac said, closing his menu.
“Me, too,” Whitney said, handing her menu over.
Daisy looked up at the waitress. “I want mac and cheese.”
“Got it.” The waitress wrote it all down and walked away.
Cormac leaned back in the booth and put his arm around Daisy, bringing her against his side. She snuggled in even closer. As he stroked her hair he looked across at Whitney. “Aren’t you a vegan?”
“A vegan? Me?” And then Whitney saw Cormac’s expression and groaned. “Oh, I see. You’re trying to make a joke.”
“Trying? You mean, succeeding.”
“Huh.” But she was smiling.
“I’m funny.”
“No.”
“I used to be.”
“Hmm,” she teased. “Maybe. But that was a long time ago.