Page 12 of Inherited Holiday

Nicholas: Clocks.

Noelle: Clocks? What does that mean?

Nicholas: Put a clock in the fluffy dictator’s crate. It’s supposed to mimic their mother’s heartbeat.

I hated listening to him, but I didn’t have much of a choice if I wanted to get any sleep. First, it took me a second to find a clock. Thankfully, I had one in the guest bedroom. I placed it near his face, and he immediately leaned against my hand like he didn’t want me to leave.

I was a sucker, lying down where I was so he could snuggle against me. He was still technically in his crate, and I called that a win. Little by little, the tiny dude calmed down, and I texted Nicholas again.

Noelle: Better, your highness?

Nicholas: Indeed, my queen.

Now, there was no hiding or fighting it this time.

I smiled…

CHAPTER 5

NICHOLAS

Ididn’t know what I hated more, the fact that everyone who walked through those custom, gold-lattice, iron doors that were bent to look like it was a Christmas tree early the following morning was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed or the fact that I had to be there. What made matters worse was that everyone kept congratulating me as if I’d won the grand prize when it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

At least it was for me.

“Oh my God!” Mrs. Sanders fawned over me, grabbing my face to blow air kisses in my direction. “Look at you!”

She was the sweetest woman and my old man’s secretary for the past thirty years. She was basically part of the family at this point. It was her outfit that caught my attention the most. She was decked out in a head-to-toe Christmas tree outfit, including the gaudy jewelry hanging off her skin.

I wish I could tell you she was the only one dressed like that, but I’d be lying. Out of the ten people in the room—includingmy brother and father, who were both board members—I was the only one dressed in a pair of jeans and a button-down, sporting a beanie.

It was fucking freezing outside. The temperature had dropped overnight since it started snowing. I lived in a warmer climate now, and I didn’t own clothes thick enough to handle this frigid weather anymore. Plus, I never really cared for this weather. Most of the board members were dressed in some sort of Christmas apparel, whether a tie, a vest, or some socks. You’d think the dress code was holiday attire.

I guess the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Everything about this town was still the same, from the decorations to the displays and lights. I was almost certain you could see Mistletoe Town from space, bright and beaming off the globe from the holiday light shows. There was practically a snowman on every corner and a nutcracker soldier not far behind it.

I’d only been awake for two hours, and I’d already seen Santa Claus twice. He was the best Santa lookalike that money could buy, and the board spared no expense to find the most authentic staff for The North Pole, located at the end of town. It was the big finish to this place. A five-story wood log cabin that was decked out to look like Santa’s workshop to include pictures with the mystical myth himself, along with the one and only scam artist, his wife, Mrs. Claus. The elves and whoever the hell else added to the cast of Christmas cheer bullshit were most certainly in that building.

Beside it was an ice-skating ring. I used to play hockey in school, and during my senior year, I was the team captain. I lived there while growing up, yet I hadn’t stepped foot in a ring since I left. Something I used to have a passion for turned into an afterthought I only had when I saw a postcard or a movie that involved the sport I once loved.

I couldn’t help but remember all the memories I had trying to teach Noelle how to skate. She had more interest in playing in the snow than skating on it. However, she did love snowboarding, which was a hell of a lot easier for her to learn. She was good on a board, and I wondered if she still enjoyed it as much as she did back then.

Her love for all the seventy-foot Christmas trees through town captivated her the most every year. Each tree had a specific theme. My personal favorite was The Grinch tree near the library. I smiled when I walked by it that morning. Another thing about this supposed magical place was that you could walk everywhere and anywhere. Very few used their vehicles. Most went by foot or bikes. It was one of the things that made this place so safe from crime and car accidents.

The speed limit through the entire town was restricted to twenty-five miles per hour. However, that was due to all the tourists who would drive their cars through the town to see the lights and displays that were skeptical among the gingerbread houses. There was even a sled driven by the impostor himself and his real-life reindeers, including the star of the show, Rudolph. Of course, you couldn’t forget the train for the Polar Express.

You could literally hear children’s laughter from the sleds and tubing at the Candyland shop, or you could book a ride on a horse and carriage to take through Winter fucking Wonderland. In theory, this place was someone’s paradise and dream come true, but in my reality, it was my own personal hell and worst nightmare that I now owned.

From the time I understood it was all smoke and mirrors, there wasn’t a time I thought Santa was real. Noelle used to say it was my origin story, due to my older cousins spilling the truth without realizing I was there. I knew the truth from the start, and I thanked them for it. Someone had to keep their sanity in a town filled with Christmas cheer twenty-four seven.

If you asked me, I was the Grinch, and I had no problem owning up to it. If anything, I aspire to be left alone. My nickname growing up used to be Grinchy, and I dressed like my misjudged hero every year for Halloween as a kid. I even had a dog named Max who looked like Grinch’s companion. He passed away when I was sixteen, and to this day, I still thought about him. Now I didn’t have time for a dog.

The only time I was home was to sleep or shower. If I wasn’t at my office, I was on a jobsite meeting with clients, roofers, the county and so on and so on. The list of bullshit I had to deal with on the daily was enough to drive any man to drink. Luckily, I never cared for the stuff. Being a carpenter was what I enjoyed the most about my career. I subbed out the rest, yet I still had to deal with managing the project, which was the hardest part of the contract.

My shop was a thirty-five-hundred-square-foot warehouse that held my entire life under the aluminum. I had a stage area along with an area I could work. Since I never took time off, my clients all understood I needed to walk off the job for a few days, and I was able to sneak away until after Christmas.

I sat back against the doorframe and leaned against it after my father and I had an awkward greeting. He barely looked my way, making it obvious he was not pleased with my grandfather’s decision either.

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