Page 137 of Not Your Average Vixen
The man scratched his head. “Kringle Chapel has a fireplace, so if you could get there, you’d be able to keep warm. But if the mountain’s lost power, the gondola to the chapel won’t be running.”
No, no, no! Not when he was so close!
Soren paced the length of the gathering area, staring out the large windows into the parking lot, covered in drifts of snow.
He’d give anything if Cole were right, and Christmas fairies did exist.
He knew exactly what he’d wish for.
He rested his head on the cold windowpane when the answer to his dilemma looked him square in the eye.
He turned to the Santa contingent. “Those three snowcats—they could make it up Kringle Mountain, right?”
The bearded men joined him at the window along with the man who’d been out shoveling snow.
“You mean Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher.”
“Who?”
“The snowcats,” one of the Mrs. Clauses called. “They’re named after our reindeer.”
“Santa’s reindeer,” he corrected.
“Yes,ourreindeer,” the honorable Lawrence Duncan, retired judge and part-time Santa, replied with another sly wink.
“And the three snowcats you’ve got here just happen to be Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher?”
“That’s right,” the burly Santa replied.
Soren stared at the snowcats, feeling more determined than ever, as something else caught his eye. “What’s that, over there?”
“That would be a snow angel,” the shoveling man replied.
Holy Christmas fairies!
“Did you make it?” he asked excitedly.
The man chuckled as he brushed the snow off his coat. “No, son. My snow angel making days are well behind me.”
It had to be a sign!
He turned to the Santas. “I need your help. The judge and I must get to the Kringle Mountain House, and then the wedding party will need a ride up to the chapel. Can Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher handle that?”
“There’s not much that Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher can’t handle,” the burly Santa replied.
Soren grinned. No, there wasn’t!
“Then, we need to go. There’s no time to lose. Judge, are you ready?” he asked, glancing around the room.
Judge Franklin Abbott clapped him on the shoulder. “You bet I am, Scooter.”
The Santa snowcat squad sprang into action, putting on their coats and gloves.
Soren glanced at the velvet bag containing the rings and the picture strip, lying safe in the palm of his hand when an idea so perfect and so Christmas-complete sparked in his mind.
“Wait!” he cried.
“What is it?” the judge asked, buttoning up his jacket.
