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1
MALLORY
“Best Christmas ever!” I squeak out in an excited whisper, gazing up at the tiny cabin I get to call home for exactly forty-seven hours. I’ve been saving every penny for months, eating ramen and PB&J, just so I could rent myself a Christmas miracle in the middle of picture perfect, snowy woods. This year, no one is going to ruin my favorite holiday. Not my narcissistic mother. Not my self-centered sister. Not my crotchety grandfather who believes a woman’s only place is barefoot and in the kitchen.
This year, I am free.
“I think that’s everything, Ms. Collins.”
“Mallory, please,” I say to the elderly man who was kind enough to give me a lift in his four-wheel drive truck. I arrived in the cutest little mountain-side town by train. But there weren’t any Uber drivers willing to make the snowy trek out to my cabin. Especially with the winter storm on the way.
Except for Fred.
“Sure you’ll be all right? Out here on your own?”
“It’s only two nights.” I gaze adoringly at the quaint log cabin positioned at the top of a small but steep hill. With its snow-covered roof and smoke dancing from the chimney, it looks like something out of a holiday movie. I wish I were able to stay longer, but I can’t afford the weekly rate. I shake away the unpleasant thoughts trying to invade and focus on the positive. “I have plenty of supplies with me. I definitely won’t starve!”
Because the online listing promised there were Christmas decorations galore in the cabin, I packed a ton of baking ingredients instead. No one’s here to tell me that living on Christmas cookies for three days is bad for me. Or that eating my weight in their sugary goodness will cause me to balloon up like the Goodyear blimp.
Best.
Christmas.
Ever!
I’m half tempted to fall back into the nearest snowdrift and make a snow angel right here and now. When was the last time I even dared to think about something so carefree? So spontaneous?
“I’d tell you to call if you needed anything,” Fred says, his smile faltering as he rubs the back of his neck. “But there’s no signal out here.”
“None?” I can’t keep the giddiness out of my voice as the truth crashes into me with one hundred percent expected relief. No one can blow up my phone with guilt or feigned concern. Now, before anyone gets any ideas, of course, I told my family I wasn’t coming for Christmas. Maybe it was under the glaring ahem of a flight attendant as we were taking off, but they know I’m safe and not coming. I’m not causing anyone heart palpitations or night sweats wondering where I’ve gone.
“Afraid not.”
I very nearly hug Fred in my joy. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave.”
“There should be a radio somewhere inside the cabin in case of an emergency. Otherwise, I’ll be back at noon on Christmas Day to pick you up.”
As I trek up the narrow, snow-packed path to the covered front porch, I make a mental note to save a couple dozen cookies for Fred and his wife. He waits in his truck until I unlock the front door and wave him off.
Christmas doesn’t explode when I step inside.
In fact, Christmas doesn’t seem to exist within the log walls at all.
My hope of a magical holiday waivers as I drag my bags inside. The cabin has a definite bachelor pad vibe. From the masculine furniture, to the wildlife prints hanging slightly off-kilter on the walls, to the red and black flannel accents. Very different from the holiday-decked photos I stumbled across a week ago when I booked my getaway.
I plop on to the stiff black leather couch and dig out the printed email from the landlord to see if I misread something. There are tons of Christmas decorations. A giant tree, hundreds of ornaments, a mile’s worth of garland, and enough lights to make Clark Griswold drool. All in the crawl space. Feel free to go crazy!
“Oh.” I feel my hope renew. I don’t mind a little decorating. In fact, it might make my quiet Christmas even more special. No one telling me I’m hanging the ornaments wrong or screwing up the garland to light ratio. I’m tempted to make the tree purposely hideous just because I can.
“Just need to find the crawl space.”
After an extensive search, I don’t locate any trap doors or cubby holes in the main area of the cabin. But I do find an oversized bottle of red wine in a kitchen cupboard with a bow stuck to it. “Merry Christmas to me!”
I’m pleasantly surprised to find a fully equipped kitchen during my search for a wine opener. Including cookie sheets and mixing bowls. There are no wine glasses though, so I settle for a coffee mug that says World’s Best Brother in faded green letters. “Wonder who left this behind,” I mumble as I fill her up to the top.
I close my eyes, take a generous sip, and exhale my lungs empty when no one tells me to take it easy on the wine.
Mug in hand, I continue exploring the cabin.
