Page 21 of Second Chance Christmas

“You’d think she grew up at the knee of Santa with how many cookies she can down in a single sitting. It’s probably why he walks down Main Street. Someone is always feeding her something.” Aspen finished the second strand of lights and started untangling yet another. “Late last winter the big lug of a doofus stepped out onto the ice behind your house. Your gran and Ms. Lucille thought it was a great idea to go out there themselves in a rowboat—how I still haven’t figured out.”

Speaking of Ms. Lucille, she had quietly walked off. She looked around and spotted her by the fire pit adding several thick logs back onto the fire Aspen just calmed.

“It worked out,” Ivy said, changing her tactics to scratch the scruff under Rocco’s chin.

“You rescued the young calf barely the size of Charlie. Her little antlers hadn’t come in yet,” added Ms. Lucille from her place by the fire. “She was going to die. Such a little thing. And I got to ride in your firetruck to the hospital between five hot dudes—your gran, too. Win-win if you ask me.” The subject of their conversation threw her head back and nodded, moving her rump a little closer to the fire.

She’d never seen such a thing.

For a third time in fifteen minutes Ms. Lucille’s phone chimed. “You’re popular today.” The cell reception might be poor, but the wi-fi worked just fine.

“Yeah, it’s the old farts down at the YMCA. I teach a free yoga class there three times a week and you know how men are about yoga pants. They can’t get enough of your gran and me in our holiday stretchies.”

Ivy’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened. A full three seconds passed as she considered Lucille’s words before she laughed so hard her sides grew numb. “You can’t keep your friends waiting.”

“You’re right!” Ms. Lucille tucked her arm into the crook of Aspen’s after he balled up the massive tangle of lights.

“I’ll return these to the town square. I’m sure there are a few workers there a little more than miffed about some missing Christmas lights this close to Dixcemberfest.”

“Thank you, dear. You kids run along now. Oh, wait a minute. I have something for you.” Lucille walked briskly to the bus and back with a baggie full of cookies and a container of what looked like cupcakes. “I did some baking last night and made extra.”

Ivy took the baggie and slid it in her pocket so she could balance the big tub of treats. “Thank you so much, Ms. Lucille.”

Standing beside the truck, Aspen fished out his keys and planted a soft kiss on the old lady’s cheek.

“Send us smoke signals if you need anything, Ms. Lucille.”

“HA. You always were the smartass of the class,” she teased. “Don’t be rude and forget to invite your Ivy to the Dixcemberfest.”

Your Ivy? That had her ears glowing red. Ms. Lucille turned to her. “You’ll come, won’t you? It hasn’t been the same without the Winters there.”

Ivy’s gut reaction was to say no. Nothing about this year was worth celebrating, least of all Christmas. Then the time it would take out of her schedule. She didn’t see how it would work and she be able to have the B&B ready in time.

Lucille reached for her hand and squeezed. “Come now, you can’t miss another year.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything, Ms. Lucille.” She waited for lightning to lash out and strike her any second for the lie. That gave her a short window to cook up an excuse to miss the town’s annual party.

“You’ll pick her up, Aspen?”

Not that there was room for an option around her tone. Aspen looked at her over the truck. “Yes, ma’am. Like Ivy Sunday said, I wouldn't miss it. Want us to swing by and pick you up?”

“No. You know what they say about a third wheel. Besides, I’ll already be tucked away in the library with the girls where Hardt keeps the good eggnog stored for after the ceremony while you kids freeze your tits off.”

Ms. Lucille waved them away as Aspen turned the truck around.

“You don’t have to take me.” She did her best to look nonchalant by flipping through her planner and acting like she didn’t want to jump out of the moving truck and run all the way back to Seattle.

“As if I would back out of giving my word. Besides, Ms. Lucille knows the fire department has to be there.”

She stopped and sat back. “The senior citizens of this town are con artists and I supplied the communication know-how.” Ivy grinned. She smelled a conspiracy and it started with a five-foot-two-inch little old lady in green curlers.

Aspen backtracked to the inn, passing a cab in the drive as he pulled to a stop in the drive. Ivy slipped from the cab of his truck, wind picking up a few strands of her hair, her boots crunching in the fresh snow.

“Hmm. I wonder who the cab is for?”

“A guest maybe?”

Ivy turned to Aspen, her hand on his arm. “God, I hope not! Please don’t let that be guests! We haven’t even started on the upgrades and the painting. Then there’s the stuff to pick up from town, too. Food. Curtains. Oh, please don’t let that be a guest.”

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