Page 10 of Holly and Ivar
Liv folded her arms.“Right.One of these days, you’re going to have to stop letting the past—”
He held up a hand.“Stop right there.We’re not doing this.”
Her expression softened.“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”He rose and began clearing the table.“Thanks for dinner.It was great.”
“Don’t you dare leave without leftovers,” she said, following him into the kitchen.“Al loves my lasagna almost as much as you do.”
They worked side by side in easy silence, the clatter of dishes filling the comfortable quiet.When the kitchen was spotless, Ivar called to Al, who was sprawled on the rug by the fireplace.Al stretched, shook, and followed him out into the cold.
“Can you at least consider showing her around?”Liv asked from the doorway, arms crossed but smiling.
Ivar sighed.“I’ll think about it.”
***
The truck door groaned as he opened it, and Al jumped inside with a thump.The dog pressed his nose to the window, tapping his paw against the door.
“I’m only opening it a bit,” Ivar said, starting the engine and then lowering Al’s window an inch.
Now Al’s nose was pressed into the gap, and he made a sad little whining sound.
“Oh, fine,” Ivar said, lowering the window so Al’s head could pop out the side.
Snow swirled into the cab as much as under the headlights as they drove toward the cabin.“I could make you ride in the truck bed, you know,” Ivar said.“You’re lucky I’m a soft touch.”
The only reply was the happy rhythm of Al’s tail against the seat.
When they reached the cabin, Ivar turned off the ignition but didn’t move right away.“All right, counselor,” he said to the dog.“I’ve been thinking I should go with this Holly Kringle after all.That way I can find out what she plans for the land, and if it’s bad news, maybe I can steer her in another direction.Forewarned is forearmed, right?”
Al tilted his head, listening, or pretending to.
“Good talk,” Ivar said.“Glad we’re on the same page.”
Al gave a low, approving growl that almost sounded like agreement.
Ivar grinned and stepped out into the darkness.“It’s settled,” he told the night.“I’ll be Holly Kringle’s guide to the wilderness.”
CHRISTMAS EVE COUNTDOWN
DAYS
7
room with a broom
Holly
ThedrivetoWinterwoodhad been surprisingly pleasant and almost restful.
Because it was technically a work trip, Holly didn’t feel the usual guilt that crept in whenever she wasn’t being productive.She’d munched on road-trip snacks, listened to an audiobook about leadership psychology, and watched the landscape transform from city skylines to wide open highways, then to the winding, snow-dusted roads of Vermont.
Now it was dark, and as she turned onto the long, lantern-lined drive, she found herself driving straight into a Christmas card.
The Winterwood Inn glowed against the night, its white clapboard siding shining beneath strings of golden lights.Two towering Christmas trees flanked the front steps, each wrapped in garland and silver ribbon.Evergreen boughs framed the veranda railings, and the path from the parking area was lit by small glass lanterns sunk into snowbanks.
Grandfather would love it here, she thought, and made a mental note to send him a photo.He’d probably add it to his “must-visit” list of festive destinations.
