Page 1 of Snowed in at Santa's Lodge
Chapter One
Ragnar
My grandfather was one of my favorite people in the entire world. When I was a little calf and my father, his son, disappeared from our life, Granddad stepped in and took over as the man of the family. He felt responsible for us, I was sure, but he never once complained or treated me as if I was a burden. Something my own father had been very good at.
Mom tried to do it all herself, but Granddad somehow made her feel as if we were doing him a favor—a white lie I believed myself until I was much older. He supported us financially, helped Mom with chores around the land, and taught me reindeer lore. I thought life was perfect until I turned sixteen and Mom met a new mate. Granddad, with all the grace he’d exhibited my whole life, stepped away to let her live hers. My stepdad was fine, treated my mother well, but I was too old for him to be anything more than her person. I’d had a dad, not great, and a granddad who was great. Not looking for number three to bond with. Not at sixteen.
My grandfather bought a lodge deep in the mountains. Several hours away from us, far enough that I only saw him on summer and winter breaks and, as I grew up and left home, taking on a job and my own responsibilities, even less frequently. Something I regretted when I got the notice from his attorney that he’d passed on and left me everything he had.
Everything was the lodge and a little money. He’d planned to fix the place up and make it a real destination. Granddad’s long white beard and round belly made him look just like Santa Claus, and when we were out and about, years before, I always got a real kick out of kids running up to tell him what theywanted for Christmas. It didn’t help that he played into it and wore a red hooded sweatshirt a lot of the time.
And now he was gone, and with it his dreams of making Santa’s Lodge a place where families would want to spend their holidays. Not all shifters were into Christmas, but a surprising number were. Cozy family times appealed to most people, I thought. Or they should.
I had only been here a couple of months and when I first walked up the drive, I was shocked at the condition of the place. It hadn’t been so many years since I saw Granddad, but the last few visits, he’d come to me, and not only had he not done anything to improve his lodge, it needed immediate repairs if it was going to withstand another winter.
He’d always said we’d run the lodge together. Called me his reindeer elf. We would make drawings of how it was going to look when it was finished. Where Santa’s throne would be, and the hot-chocolate bar. The cookie-decorating station. A model train would run all the way around the main rooms on a track mounted near the ceiling.
Presents. Everyone who came to stay would get one on Christmas morning.
Had Granddad given up on the project because of his age and physical condition? Or because I had grown away from it?
A glance upward revealed the dark gray of snow clouds blanketing the sky. We’d already had enough of the white stuff to stick, but a few flakes drifted down to promise more. The ladder I stood on, chipping away at caulking, swayed in a sudden gust of wind. I’d hoped to get more done today, certainly a lot more before winter totally closed in and made it that much harder, but if I fell fifteen feet to the ground, I’d break something that a simple shift wouldn’t fix.
I glanced at my watch, brushing a few snowflakes from the face. Then looked up at the sky again. I probably could lastanother half hour up here, as long as the wind didn’t gust too much. So, I tightened my grip on the scraper and redoubled my efforts. It would be ideal to replace the windows, but that would have to wait for another year. For now, I was trying to get everything at least winter-ready and as waterproof as possible. So painting the outside, replacing the caulking, and, well, I had a long list. I’d never get through it all, but my best would have to do.
Pausing, I zipped the hoodie up to my chin and patted the worn fabric. Granddad’s old clothes were good for doing jobs like this, I told myself, not willing to dwell on the comfort I received from the last traces of pipe tobacco scent. The old man could have stepped in to act in a production of’Twas the Night Before Christmaswith all his quirks.
I missed him hard. When he came to visit, I’d tried to show him the town and take him all the best places, but he always shied away from fancy. “Let’s go to the diner around the corner again,” he’d say. “You work too hard for your money to spend it all on me.”
He never even told me about his heart. Or that the healer said it was failing. And that there was nothing to be done about it.
But since I couldn’t go back and be a less neglectful grandson, I promised myself to make his dream, our dream together, a reality. Thus giving up my big-city job and coming here to invest my savings and elbow grease into making Santa’s Lodge the coziest, most welcoming place to spend the holidays—or any day of the year!
Trying to make my savings stretch involved doing everything possible myself. Some of my former coworkers with whom I stayed in touch on social media tried to convince me that I should take out a loan and hire professionals, cut the time down and be ready to open sooner. Start making money, butGranddad had been adamant that wasn’t the way to go. He never borrowed a dime in his life, which was why the lodge had no loans on it. It needed a whole lot of work, but there was nobody coming to foreclose anytime soon. Or ever.
A few flakes landed on the windowsill, but it wasn’t bad yet, so I kept working, wanting to finish this one window if possible. And I did, but not because of the time limit I’d given myself. Once I’d gotten out the old caulk, I taped plastic over the window. New caulk would have been ideal, but it would have to wait until the storm ended.
Climbing down, I held onto the ladder as the wind buffeted it. A microburst that ripped the plastic from the window. Perfect. I’d have to cover it from the inside and hope it didn’t do too much more damage.
The winter would be spent working on indoor repairs, but I had rather wished for a little more for the outside. The patched roof would either hold up or it wouldn’t, but the angle should keep the snow from building up too much.
My job in the city was behind a desk, the only tools my laptop and phone. Granddad and I had made a lot of plans but never did any actual construction-type work. I wasn’t actually sure if he had the skills or planned to learn them down the line. Me? YouTube had videos of handy folks who could do anything and got their kicks and probably living out of showing those of us who did not know how. So far, it had gotten me through a lot of the general painting and the roof patch as well as one broken pipe that threatened to flood the second floor.
I’d had a run in mind for the afternoon. The snow was getting thicker, the winds wilder, and my reindeer loved the idea. I might be tired and ready to sit by a fire, but he was prancing inside me, anxious to get going.
Then something happened that neither of us could have seen coming. A rattletrap car chugging toward us. The beaterbelonged in the junkyard, but the omega who climbed out of it belonged on the cover of a magazine.
Chapter Two
Aspen
Just a little snow, the weatherman said. Nothing to worry about. Traveling conditions favorable.
I knew better than to trust news reports but, today of all days, I decided to take them at their word.
Boy, was I wrong. Or they were wrong. Someone erred. Either way, my plans for making it home today or even by tonight were thoroughly trampled when the snow came down in sheets instead of flurries. All I’d wanted was to get home and wrap myself up for the holidays and enjoy them. I’d done my shopping and, even though my Christmas would be all alone, it was mine and I’d looked forward to it. Just get through this storm. Easy peasy, I hoped.
Famous last words.
