Page 87 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
“Very well,” I smiled, and gave in. “They’ll be happy either way,” I said proudly.
“They’re going to lose their minds, aren’t they?” she added more softly, eyes flicking to the door.
“They are,” I said, voice lower now. “And I hope it ruins their standards for every Christmas party from now until adulthood.” I kissed her smiling lips, “Including their mother’s.”
Avery rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.
“Have fun tonight,” she offered a short truce.
“Never without you,” I winked, and let the next kiss linger a bit longer until I could finish what I wanted it to start, later tonight.
Once the girls were changed and ready, they hugged their mom goodbye, both giggling, and rushed out the door with me barely trailing behind them. The luxury coach was parked and waiting in all its grandeur outside. It was black and sleek with an LED-lit interior, complemented by plush white leather seats and silver trim. The driver greeted us, holding the door open as if we were boarding our private jet.
The second we stepped on board, Izzy gasped. “Yum. It smells like marshmallows in here!”
“It’s a scent diffuser,” I said with a shrug. “Custom blend. Sugar, fir, cinnamon, vanilla bean.”
Addy looked around like she couldn’t decide if she was impressed or preparing a roast. “You’re really trying to kick Mom’s butt this year.”
“Trying?” I raised a brow. “Sweetheart, wealreadywon.”
The coach pulled away from the tailor’s, smooth and silent like the luxury hotel suite on wheels it was. The girls, now in their cozy fleece-lined leggings and soft holiday hoodies, took up the curved leather bench at the back while I stood up front, watching the city blur behind tinted glass.
“I still can’t believe you rented an entire fleet of these,” Addy said, bouncing slightly as she pulled out her phone to snap photos. “This isn’t a bus. It’s a vibe.”
“Please, your mother flew the entire company in on private jets, and the same ones you’ve flown on. I’m sure this is nothing.”
“No, Dad,” Addy smiled at the luxurious holiday décor surrounding us on the bus, “this all just feels different and much cooler.”
I smiled, “That’s the exact reaction I was hoping for.”
“Can we take this to school forever?” Izzy asked, giggling.
“Only if you plan on bribing the district,” I said, smirking as I poured cider into copper mugs from the built-in beverage station. “Tomorrow, all the guests will get this experience. There will be champagne for the adults, and hot cocoa bombs with marshmallow stirrers for the kids. There will be attendants on all buses, and fireplaces will be playing on the monitors. And of course, the whole Christmas experience will have a full pre-party playlist.”
Addy raised a brow. “Are you trying to brainwash us into thinking we won Christmas, so we won’t be upset when Mom and Cat win?”
“No.” I handed them their drinks and sat across from them. “Actually, I’m trying to give you something you’ll never forget.”
It took forty-five minutes to get to the venue I’d chosen after scrapping the Shrine Auditorium idea, just long enough for the city to fall away and the mountains to rise ahead. By the time we pulled through the massive stone-and-steel gates of the estate I had rented and reimagined for this, the sun had dipped behind the horizon, and the first lights came into view.
Izzy gasped. “Oh, wow…”
Addy’s jaw actually dropped. “Oh. My. God.”
The coach doors opened, and silence hit us first.
Not the absence of sound, but the kind of hush that settles over somethingmajesticbefore it comes alive.
Addy stepped down first, then Izzy followed, both girls in awe of being transported officially to the North Pole.
Ahead of us, the estate was unrecognizable.
What used to be a grand stone chateau was now the beating heart of a full-scale North Pole village, untouched by guests, pristine under layers of fresh artificial snow, and accented with real frost from the outdoor chillers Karen had insisted on trucking in from Colorado.
The air even smelled like cloves and sugar cookies.
“I told you,” I said, nodding toward the towering candy cane gates as they swung open on their tracks. “We don’t just do Christmas. We redefine it.”
