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“No.” J.J. frowned at him. “The real Santa. The one who came to the Mexican restaurant.”
Holden glanced at Faith again, and this time, he appeared to be fighting a smile. “So that’s the real Santa, huh?”
“What was Santa doing at the Mexican restaurant?” Faith asked.
It was probably a stupid question. Santas had to eat too. As did men dressed in Santa costumes, which this guy absolutely had to be.
“Handing out presents,” J.J. said, speaking as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“He just showed up one night while we were eating,” Holden jumped in to explain. “He had a bag full of gifts.”
“Amber S. saw him at the very tiptop of the mountain.” J.J. pointed to the right of her, which was the direction the top of the mountain would be if you followed the strip all the way up. “He was talking to Mr. Howard.”
“Lucky Howard?” Faith asked. “The Howards grew up down the street from us.”
J.J. looked over at her dad. Of course, he didn’t know the answer to that.
“I assume, right?” Holden looked from J.J. to Faith. “He’s the only Lucky in town, right?”
Faith nodded, even though she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. It was doubtful someone else had moved into town with that name in the time she’d been away.
“What was Amber doing at the top of the mountain?” Holden asked.
“She got new skis for Christmas.”
J.J. shrugged and flipped a dumpling into her mouth. She rested her cheek on her left fist as she ate. Like she couldn’t be bothered to hold her head up. Maybe cooking had worn her out.
“Your friend went down that slope?” Faith asked.
She didn’t know much about skiing, but she’d been up there, and it was ridiculously steep. Not at all something she’d expect an eight-year-old on a new pair of skis to tackle.
“No, they were just checking it out. They’re going to start on the bunny slope when it snows. Dad, can I get some skis? I want to learn.”
“We can rent skis.” Holden looked distracted. “We’ll have to get the right gear, though.”
He continued to stare straight ahead as J.J. started telling a story about learning to ride a bike. His mind was definitely on something, but it was probably not up for discussion in front of his daughter.
That was why Faith waited until it was just the two of them, cleaning up after dinner, to ask. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ve been wondering what that Santa guy was up to,” he said. “And I’ve heard I’m not the only guy in town thinking about putting a ski lodge at the top of the mountain.”
“A ski lodge?” She turned to look at Holden, plate in one hand. She was standing at the dishwasher while he was at the table, so thankfully, he didn’t see the surprised look on her face. “That’s a great idea. The town is long overdue for something like that.”
“I think so too,” he said. “But it’s a big undertaking, and I’m running into obstacles because I’m not a builder or a developer. I need capital to buy the land and get construction started. Then there’s the matter of manufacturing snow—”
“Why not work with Lucky?” she asked. “He’s a developer.”
“That’s the plan, but I need the financing first. If Santa’s sweeping this out from under me, though…”
She had to turn back to the dishwasher to hide the smile that spread across her face at those words. Misty Mountain had a diabolical Santa in town just to steal the dreams of one of its residents?
Absurd.
“What’s the story with this guy?” Faith asked, eager to help solve the mystery.
Holden arrived at the sink, bowls of food in hand. He looked around a second before setting them on the island, then heading straight to the cabinet where the plastic storage containers used to be. She had to stop and show him that she’d moved them to the storage area in the island, which had been completely empty when she started organizing.
“It’s an older guy in a Santa suit,” Holden said. “But not the kind of cheap Santa suits we saw on the guy at the mall yesterday. He wears red pants that look like normal dress pants, and his coat is the quality of one you’d pay top dollar for in a store.”
