Page 4 of Christmas Wishes

Arlo apologized again, then hung up to get in line for boarding.

I trudged over to the tourist store and took in the horrific choices. Each sweatshirt was a boxy nightmare and there were only two options in my small size. A heather gray sweatshirt with a mountain landscape that readFlagstaff, AZ. The eighties look was more cringe than retro. The other was a turquoise sweatshirt withSnow Bunnyin glitter letters. Unfortunately, that was more my speed.

The garment had a faint chemical aroma and the unnatural fabric scratched my skin, but at least it was warm and would make my light jacket work well enough in the meantime. I just needed to get to the Airbnb and figure out what to do.

Shit. I didn’t know how to get to the Airbnb. Arlo had given me the host’s number and the address. He offered a link to the Airbnb when he’d told me the location yesterday, but I declined. I’d wanted the surprise, but I sure as hell regretted that now. If I’d seen the Airbnb listing, surely in my sober state, I would’ve seen a clue about the snow. Drunk Arlo was not detail-oriented.

I re-opened my thread with Arlo, found the host’s phone number, and sent a message.

Keaton: Hi. I’m checking into your Airbnb today. Just landed. Is there a check-in time?

It was early afternoon, and I really didn’t want to have to kill an hour or two. Fortunately, the dots were bouncing by the time I got to baggage claim. I added the number to my contacts.

Airbnb in Snow Hellscape: Hi there. Glad you landed okay. You can check in at any time. Here’s a screenshot with info about the check-in process. Do you have a car, or do you need transportation info?

Keaton: I’ve got a rental lined up.

Airbnb in Snow Hellscape: Great. I’m working today, but text me if you need anything or have issues getting into the house. You enter through the main door but have the entire second floor. There’s a cat in the house, but you won’t see him. He hides most of the time. Are you allergic?

Keaton: Nope, all good there.

The second floor of some guy’s house? That was barely a step up from sharing a room. Did we have to share a bathroom? Would I have to make awkward small talk in the kitchen? Would I be sleeping in some creepy attic filled with the ghosts of skiers and dead people’s belongings?

That would be Arlo’s dream place. He loved spooky things and antiquing. I preferred to leave old shit in the past.

Keaton: Thanks. I appreciate the info.

My phone buzzed again a few minutes later as I waited in line at the car rental counter.

Airbnb in Snow Hellscape: I forgot to mention my name is Riggs.

Keaton: Good to meet you, Riggs. I’m Keaton.

Airbnb in Snow Hellscape: Likewise, Keaton. Drive safe.

I sent back a thumbs-up emoji.

Riggs. Huh. I liked that. It sounded rugged. Maybe he was a lumberjack or a ski instructor. As long as he didn’t try to make me go skiing, we’d get along fine. Hurtling myself downhill on toothpicks strapped to my feet? Hard pass.

Once I had my car keys, I braced my faux snow bunny self for the brisk air and a week I wasn’t prepared for.

Chapter2

Riggs

As I climbedinto the cab of my truck and turned the heat on full blast, I chugged the rest of the coffee in my thermos. It scalded a path down my throat, but I barely registered the pain in my desperate need for more caffeine. My day had already been intense, and it was barely half over.

The first job of the day had been more complicated than expected, which set the rest of my appointments behind. I’d hoped to welcome the Airbnb guest in person, but no way that was happening.

When I decided to become an electrician, I thought summer would be the busiest season due to air conditioning needs, but the joke was on me because I lived in a town with a Christmas light festival full of people trying to make their homes visible from the North Pole.

December would continue getting busier with people calling and begging me to fix things they’d been putting off all year but only remembered were an issue now that they wanted to decorate.

At least the constant work helped distract me from dwelling on the fact that it was my first December without Nicolas. Nico had not only been the best boss, but he’d been like a father to me. Certainly, more fatherly than my actual dad. Nico had tempered my frustration when I wanted to tell clients to call back in the new year. He’d always been willing to squeeze in one more call at the end of a long day. Without him taking calls, and with the precedent he’d set decades ago with his flexibility, I worked late into most evenings.

Time to get over to the next job. I’d been dreading the appointment at Esther’s house. She was a perfectly pleasant woman I enjoyed being around, but as one of the best friends of Nico’s sister, Doris, I knew she’d be on me like tree sap. Asking me leading questions to try and get dirt on how I was “really doing” to report back to Doris. I was on the fence about whether she even had an electrical issue.

I’m fine. Why don’t people believe me?I’d moved into the house Nico left me, kept his business running, and even managed to keep his Airbnb side hustle going. The extra income was nice, though I technically didn’t need it since Nico had left me a nest egg. But that was his money, not mine.

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