Page 6 of The Santa of the Mountain

“He’s massive,” I mutter to Quinn as I turn back around.

“A massive Scrooge too. Well, reformed Scrooge.”

I wouldn’t mind trying to convert a Scroogelike mountain man, but a chance like that would never happen.Relationships just don’t work out for me.

“Thanks for the peppermint bark. I owe you.”

“Consider it an early Christmas present, and remember to drop a piece into the latte for the full Christmasperience.”

“Is that a word?”

“The best,” she says, beaming as I head for the pick-up counter. “Merry Christmas, Nick.”

“Merry Christmas,” the behemoth behind me responds in a deep baritone.

I’m still a few minutes early, but I spot Pearl and Henry huddled together in a booth. My stomach roils, a bitter mixture of bile, nerves, and a tablespoon of Bert’s concoction. Maybe I should’ve finished that drink.

“Mistletoe Madness,” Max calls out behind me a few moments later.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling at him as I open the lid and drop in a piece of the peppermint bark.

I give it a quick stir, replace the lid, and then take one big sip, relishing the taste of Christmas in a cup and steeling myself for this meeting. No matter. I’ve got my drink. I’ve got my Christmas cheer back. And I’ve got Bing Crosby in my ears. Nothing could dampen my mood.

Famous last words because there’s a woman I’ve never seen before sitting with them. Are theyreallybreaking up with me? And is she my replacement? Ho, ho, holy shit. I’m so disoriented that I accidentally knock off some guy’s fake antlers as I navigate around the crowded tables.

“Sorry,” I mutter, awkwardly replacing them, noting the gaudy Christmas sweater with bells, lights, living holly, and Santa knows what else.

“Kate!” she shouts, waving at me before sliding out of the booth.

“Pearl,” I mutter tentatively as I stare at the smartly dressed woman. I know everyone who’s attending the wedding. I know Henry’s family tree as well as mine, and I know that this woman is neither a relative nor a friend. “What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who is that? And why did you send me that cryptic text?”

She’s vibrating with excitement. “Look, I know how hard it has been this year for you. And I know you swear you are completely fine with me marrying my Henry. But…” She pauses. “Just hear me out.”

“Now you’re scaring me.”

“It’s nothing, I swear. It’s good. Great. Fantastic even.”

My sister does not do hyperbole, so I’m even more on edge and I can’t stop myself.

“Are you firing me? I know I packed the schedule but this seems excessive.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Although that schedule of yours… Well, we’ll talk about how Henry and I will be spending the rest of the lead-up to the wedding. This meeting is about you. Possibly your future?”

“Could you just come out with it?”

“I hired a matchmaker for you. And she’s set you up with an amazing man. Merry Christmas!”

I swallow hard. Merry Christmas indeed.

This isthe last thing I need right now.

I’m at the finish line of this wedding. I don’t have time for whateverthisis. This man could be my dream man, but unless he’s a project manager willing to lend a helping hand, then I don’t want to see him until after this wedding.

Just a few days ago the photographer I hired got sick on a safari in Kenya, so I’ve already had to book travel arrangements for the replacement. That’s just one of the many last-minute snags. Not to mention the annoying details I need to address with the florist about shipping the new flower arrangements. And, of course, the behind-the-scenes shitshow with the wedding venue that I’ve been shielding Pearl from.

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