Page 2 of Christmas With My Mountain Man Landlord
"What I want is for everyone to stop acting like December requires mandatory joy." The words come out sharper than intended. "What I want is to work my shifts, go home, and not be reminded that sixteen years ago my wife walked out two weeks before Christmas, leaving me with an eight year old who kept thinking if she hung enough lights, her mother might come back."
I rarely mention Caroline in these sessions. The pain has dulled over the years, but the anger remains fresh. Not at her leaving. At what it did to Savannah. At what it still does to me every time silver bells start jingling on the radio.
"That's the most you've said about her since we started these sessions," Mason observes.
I shrug, already regretting the outburst. "Nothing to say. Ancient history."
"Not to you. Not during December."
My phone buzzes in my pocket, saving me from responding. I check the screen, expecting Savannah again. Instead, I see a notification from my property management app. Someone's booked my rental cabin for a month.
"Good news?" Mason asks, noting my surprised expression.
"Someone rented the cabin." I tuck the phone away. "Place has been sitting empty since summer. Could use the income."
"The one behind your house?"
I nod. "Arriving tomorrow. Some writer from San Diego looking for peace and quiet."
"Speaking of the cabin," Mason says, his tone shifting slightly, "I have a favor to ask."
I narrow my eyes. Mason never asks for favors. "What kind of favor?"
"My sister needs a place to stay for a few weeks." He taps his pen against his notepad. "She's going through some things, needs space to work. I was going to suggest your rental cabin."
"Your sister?" This is the first I've heard about Mason having a sister. "She can have the cabin if she wants, but someone just booked it."
"That would be her." He smiles slightly. "Kelsie. She's a writer, needs somewhere quiet to focus on her next book. I recommended your place."
"You recommended my cabin without asking me first?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I knew it was available. And I knew you could use the income." Mason shrugs. "Win win."
Something about this doesn't add up. "Why not just have her stay with you?"
"Have you met writers? They need their space." He makes another note. "Besides, my place is too close to town. Too many distractions."
I don't push further, but mental alarms are ringing. Mason is hiding something. In all our sessions, he's been the one digging for truth while revealing almost nothing about himself. Now suddenly he has a sister who needs my cabin specifically?
"What kind of writer is she?" I ask.
"Contemporary fiction." Mason's answer comes too quickly. "Very talented. Just needs some peace and quiet to meet her deadline."
Before I can ask more questions, Mason glances at his watch. "Our time's up for today. Same time next week?"
I nod, standing to leave. As I reach the door, he adds, "Tom? Maybe think about putting up just one decoration this year. Start small."
"No promises," I mutter, pulling the door shut behind me.
Back in my truck, I sit for a moment, processing. A writer coming to stay in my cabin. Mason's sister, no less. Just what I need during the holiday season. A stranger on my property, probably expecting neighborly Christmas cheer from the grumpy sheriff next door.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's an alert from the cabin's security system. Temperature dropping rapidly. Heating system failure.
"Perfect," I growl, starting the engine. Property management is supposed to handle maintenance, but they're useless afterhours. If I want the cabin habitable before Mason's sister arrives tomorrow, I'll have to fix it myself.
The sun is already setting when I pull up to my house, a two story craftsman style home that's too big for just me but I can't bring myself to sell. Around back, separated by a stand of pines, sits the rental cabin. One bedroom, one bath, small kitchenette. Nothing fancy, but it brings in decent income during tourist season.
As I approach, I notice lights on inside. My hand instinctively moves to my sidearm. The renter isn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow.
