Page 7 of Rebel Without a Claus
“Oh good, you’re here!” she chirps, entirely too happy for eight in the damn morning. “It’s the first day of the festival and we really need to finish these decorations.”
I grunt in response, tapping my palm to the trailer hitched behind my truck that houses a few of my reindeer. They seem calm enough back there, luckily. Then, yanking the truck bed open, I grab the first crate of garland and holly from the bed of my truck and trudge toward the inn, shoulders tight against the cold.Maybe if I don’t say much, she’ll take the hint.
Spoiler: She doesn’t.
“I mean, sure, it’s only the storytime day at the library, but still. We don’t want to look like we’re procrastinators! Now, let’s talk logistics,” she says, stepping closer. “We need to finalize the reindeer schedule, what time is drop off, when you pick them up. If there’s anything I need to be aware of for them, like if they need to eat while they’re here?—”
“No.”
She blinks. “No they don’t need to eat?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about logistics. Or schedules. Or reindeer.”
Her hands go to her hips. “Luke, you’re literally the reindeer guy. Talking about them is part of the job.”
“I’m a reindeerfarmer,” I correct her. “And I also specialize in Pine trees, mistletoe, pinecones, holly?—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I’ve heard. The point is, it’sliterallyyour job to talk to me about the reindeer.”
I drop the garland onto the porch with a dullthudand sigh. “Fine. The cost of renting the reindeer includes the temporary pen I set up for them, liability insurance, pick up and drop off, and enough alfalfa hay to keep them satisfied.”
“Okay… and whatisthe cost exactly?”
I ignore the throbbing headache that blooms behind my eyes. “Each reindeer costs $1200 for a two hour period.”
Her face goes white. “Twelve hundred?Dollars?
“Forone,” I clarify again.
“So for eight reindeer… that’s… that’s…”
“$9,600,” I say simply.
I make the mistake of looking up into her eyes which are rapidly filling with tears.
“We can’t afford that,” she says, her voice cracking.
Shit.
“We can’t even afford half of that,” she says.
This is how I earn myliving, I remind myself. And what we make during Christmas carries us through the rest of the slow times during the year. I can’t let the tears of one woman, no matter how beautiful, derail that. Aunt May raised me to be a shrewd businessman. She needs these payouts more than I do.
“If you can’t afford that, then just do one or two reindeer like a normal person,” I grunt. I turn around and head back for my truck.
“Wecan’t!” she rushes to catch up to me and I feel her delicate hand grab my elbow. “We need to win!”
“Why, Eve?” I ask, whipping around. I rest my gloved hand to the edge of my truck, leaning against it. “Why do you need to win so badly?” Even though the question comes out biting, I’m genuinely curious.
Her jaw tightens, clenching momentarily before her eyes widen. “What if I offer to help you out on the farm?” she says. “To help offset the cost?”
“You? Working on the farm with me?”
She nods. “Yes. We can pay the cost of renting a couple of the reindeer in cash and I’ll work off the others in hours.”
“Where do you want the trees?” I ask her as I hoist the first Christmas tree over my shoulder.
She points to the house. “You can leave them on the porch. Dad and I will move them later.”
