Page 26 of Holly and Ivar
Scratch that.His mind was entirely filled with her.With Holly.And with the odd swirl of things that seemed to follow them since her arrival: talk of vibes, special trees, and weird old brooms.
None of it should have made sense.Yet somehow, it did.Shedid.
Strangest of all, he trusted her.Instinctively.Otherwise, why would he have told her about the tree?That story had never left his lips before.That kind of comfort wasn’t like him.Usually, it took months for him to lower his guard.And he’d known her for less than seventy-two hours.
He didn’t know what was weirder—the way she hadn’t balked when he mentioned a tree with an aura or that she had him acting so unlike himself.
The cursor blinked on a half-written wildlife survey.With a sigh, Ivar rubbed a hand over his face and opened a new tab.
His fingers hovered above the keys.Research, he told himself.Nothing more than a background check of the potential land buyer.That’s all.
He typed: Holly Kringle.
And hit Enter.
Because of her name, a wide but unsurprising list of results came up.Holiday websites, craft blogs, corporate Christmas marketing.But nothing on her.So, he refocused the search: Holly Kringle toy manufacturer, Kringle family corporation, Adam Kringle toy expansion and so forth.
How could there be no mention of Holly or her family company?She was definitely the type to work on multiple charity boards and post articles on LinkedIn about corporate policy and women executives.
He was close to giving up when he found a rabbit hole: obscure forums, fringe subreddits, conspiracy pages in dated fonts.
“Is Santa real?”
“The Great Kringle Cover-Up.”
“Confirmed: Toy production facilities in Northern Quebec disguised as weather stations.”
He scoffed, but clicked anyway.
Stories unfolded about people who claimed to have seen “Kringle operatives” at airports, loading suspicious wooden crates onto small planes.One post told of a reporter who had “proof” that Santa existed but mysteriously published a puff piece about Alaskan artisans instead.
Another claimed that Santa Claus didn’t use elves but had a magical village for their human workers.Some said there was one Santa.Others claimed there was a network of interconnected Santas.
Halfway through a comment thread about chimney teleportation, a loud THWACK made him jump.
The door of the station had slammed shut.Carla, one of the part-time trail coordinators, breezed in holding a clipboard.
“Hey, Ivar.Aren’t you on vacation?”She dropped the clipboard on his desk as he slammed his laptop closed.
“I came by to catch up on a few things.”
“Oh yeah?Working hard or hardly working?”she teased, peering at him suspiciously.“Why do you look guilty?”
“You caught me.I’m trying to figure out what to get Lloyd for Christmas.I drew his name for the Secret Santa exchange.”
Al let out a sleepy woof under the desk, stretching his paws toward Ivar’s foot.
Carla thought for a moment.“Get him a Yeti travel mug.I’m tired of him spilling coffee all over the truck.Goodness knows why he uses a regular mug.I had to redo a report last week thanks to his coffee stains.”
“Good idea.”
“Anytime, chief.Now go home.”Carla shook her head as she turned to leave.“You two need a hobby.”
As soon as the door shut, the laptop opened again.“I think I have one now.”
***
Holly
