Page 7 of Mistletoe All the Way

Stephen’s dad is here too—my uncle and Gramps and Grams’s son. So’s my dad and his wife, along with her grown kids, and some of their friends or partners.

Gramps strides across the room and claps Stephen on the shoulder. Beaming with pride, he turns to the crowd. “Can you believe he might break the record? For ugly-Christmas-sweater-wearing.”

He’s tickled pink. Or maybe tickled red and green.

“I didn’t know there was a record for that,” I say dryly. Or that there needed to be one, but I keep that last thought to myself.

Stephen lifts a hand above his eyes, squinting my way. “Wait. Is that really you, Noah? I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long.”

I smile without showing any teeth. “Your eyes don’t lie.”

Stephen strolls across the room and claps me on the back. “Good to see you, cousin,” he says, then breaks the bro hug, giving me a too-gregarious grin. “And yes, there’s a record for everything. And an event for everything too. Like Christmas karaoke. We’re hosting a night of it next week. Want to come? You’re very welcome at St. Nick’s Hangout. I’ll always make room for you at my place.”

That’s the popular pub in town he owns—and loves to remind us he owns. It’s known for its bar games, beer, and generally jovial vibe, and, evidently, his Christmas events.

Translation: I stay far away.

“Shame I won’t be in town then.”

“That’s a shame indeed, but not really a surprise,” he says, landing a quick punch.

Ouch.

Ever the peacemaker, Chris cuts in with a hopeful, “Hey, Gramps, what’s the big news? Don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

Some days I seriously appreciate my brother.

I say a quick hi to the others, then sink down next to Dad and Leticia on the couch, Chris on the other side of me.

Once the hellos are done, Gramps clears his throat and rubs his palms together, clearly ready for the big news. “I’m so glad everyone could join me for a little retirement party. As you all know, I’ll be hanging up my Santa hat for good after this final season of sleigh rides,” he says.

Normally, I’d drink my punch and simply listen, but if I say nothing, Stephen will suck up all the air in the room. As much as I can’t stand needless chitchat and atta-boys, I jump in with, “And you deserve to enjoy your golden years.”

Dad shoots me a curious look that says, You don’t normally talk much at family gatherings.

Gramps smiles, then continues. “And after more than fifty winters, I’m ready for some year-round sunshine. My bride and I are moving to San Diego.”

“I’m going to learn to surf,” my grandmother calls out.

I freeze with the cup halfway to my mouth, but it’s not the surfing comment knocking me off-kilter. It’s that Sleigh Ride Hank is an institution here in Evergreen Falls.

“You’re moving to the beach? Are you serious?”

“As a shark,” Gramps says, thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets, his very serious pose. “And since I won’t be here, I’ve been thinking it’s the right time to pass on the farm, and I’d really love for it to stay in the family. You know how important it is to me to spread Christmas cheer and goodwill to the community, especially when people need it most,” he says, and stops, pursing his lips.

I hear what’s unsaid—when he needed it most. The sleigh rides and the joy they bring to others helped him through the loss many years ago of his daughter—my mother. I roll my lips together, sealing in emotions too, as he goes on.

“I want to know this place will be taken care of long after I’m gone. I want to know the horses will be looked after as they get older—all my girls. And I want to know this farm is in the hands of someone who understands why I love it. Who aims to spread that kind of holiday spirit too. Sometimes, that’s what people need the most this time of year.”

My chest twinges. Damn him for making me feel something.

I do my best to stay stoic, but Stephen’s already puffing out his chest and shooting him a humble look. Was he a theater major, for fuck’s sake?

“Gramps, I’d really love to run this place. It would be such an honor.”

Well, that was fast. Stephen’s eyes may look like they’re twinkling to the rest of the family, but I can sniff an incoming scheme from a mile away. Like when he cheated his way through college while partying at his frat. Like when he claimed he found a little doxie on the side of the road and gave it to his girlfriend as a Christmas gift a few years ago, only the cutie was clearly from a puppy mill. Two months later, when his girlfriend said the dog was too much work, he made plans to take the pup to an overcrowded shelter. But Chris and I swooped in and made sure little Simon wound up in a good home in San Francisco.

I just wish Gramps would see what his other grandson is really like. But Gramps sees the best in people, full stop.