As they made their way up the trail, the runners of the sleigh cut a clean hiss over the fresh-packed snow, a sound Red had come to love even when he pretended otherwise. The trail that curved toward Moose Creek shimmered with frost, every pine branch weighed heavy with powder from last night’s storm.
Clouds hung low, turning the afternoon light bluish gray. Red’s breath puffed in small clouds over his nearly frozen beard. Beside him, Benny sat with his gloved hands hugging the phone like it was made of gold.
Red adjusted his Santa hat. The thing had slid sideways on the ride out and now poked one eyebrow like it was conspiring against him.
“You know this is lunacy,” he muttered. “A man my age, freezing parts of myself better left unfrozen, all for the sake of a blasted phone screen.”
Benny’s grin didn’t budge. “One more video, Grandpa. That’s all we need. It’ll be epic.”
“Epic? I don’t trust that word.” Red curled his lip and tugged the reins lightly to guide Copper off the main lodge trail and onto the narrow spur that led to Moose Creek. “Epic usually means I’m going to make a fool of myself.”
“Grumpy Santa is so popular!” Benny said, as if that covered any foolishness. “I heard Aunt Cindy ask Grandma MJ if she knew what some people were talking about when they checked in and asked to meet him!”
“All the more reason to come clean with our lie, little man.”
“We will, we will,” Benny said. “But this video is going to be?—”
“I know. Epic.”
“Even better than the hot cocoa review when you pretended to burn your tongue and spit out marshmallows!” He slapped his leg with a giggle. “We got like five hundred new followers and a hashtag—spittingsanta! It was better than theJingle Bellsrant.”
Red chuckled. “Well, that dumb kids’ song—‘Jingle bells, Santa smells’—had to be put away. I don’t care if it’s just third-grade humor. It offends.”
The whole bit had been good, though. Benny had laughed so hard he nearly dropped the phone. Plus, it got what the kid wanted most—thousands of likes and views and…whatever else he considered internet currency.
“Remind me again,” Red said, “what’s so perfect about freezing our tails off at a snow fort when we could be in the lodge eatin’ pie?”
Benny bounced in his seat. “Because people loved the fort! I’ve seen comments asking about it—like, is it real, can you book it, can Grumpy Santa give a tour? We’ll show it off. You’ll look all cranky about it, and then boom—viral.”
Red snorted, though part of him—some small, treacherous part—was proud of how sharp the boy’s instincts were. Marketing was half smoke and mirrors anyway. Benny understood that better than most grown men.
Copper’s ears flicked back, probably because he sensed the change in terrain as they neared the creek. The last time they’d come up here, it had been warmer and morning—he and Benny had walked to make their snow fort and video. But it was easier now with Copper dragging them along.
As they neared the creek, all was still, with the water frozen and the meadow beyond it untouched except for some distant deer tracks. Through the trees, Red spotted the fort—a crooked little wall of snow blocks, lopsided but charming.
Jack told him Cindy had seen the little snow structure, and he’d brushed off questions about it as a “Christmas surprise.”
Red would be much happier when this subterfuge was over. It didn’t sit well with him to lie to his family. Yeah, yeah, Gracie would be all bent out of shape. But like Benny said, if they saved December and got that tax money? His mama would get over a little rule-breaking.
“All right,” Red said, tightening his grip on Copper’s reins, the horse prancing a bit before the fort came into clear view. “Lay it on me. What’s the grand scheme?”
As soon as Red slowed the horse to a stop, Benny hopped down, snow squeaking under his boots. He scampered around to Copper’s head, reaching up to pat his nose.
“Here’s the plan,” he said, as mature as a grown man running a business meeting. “You sit there looking all grouchy like you hate the fort, but this is where your elves live…something like that. You always make up the funniest stuff.”
“’Cause I’m a comedic genius.”
Benny ignored the aside. “Off-camera, I’m going to blast you with a snowball. And I mean blast. Right in the face.”
Red cocked his head. “You don’t have to soundthatdelighted about it.”
Benny giggled. “You’re gonna get so mad! You’ll be grumbling about elves with attitude. You know. You look across the creek and pretend to see them. Runaway elves! Little rebels! Bad creatures! All your funny stuff. Then you give Copper a snap of the reins and go running off after them, alongside the creek, with you waving your hat and having a whole grumpy moment. And then I’ll hit you again with a big bomber!”
He practically danced with joy and Copper whinnied, cold and not enjoying the stop at all.
Red raised his brows. “You like that part a little too much, kid.”
“It’ll be fun.”
