Page 12 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“What did she want to do with the names?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck starting to stand.
Kate shrugs. “Not sure.”
“What did she look like?”
Kate gives me a weird look before she chuckles. “Afraid you might have competition?”
I know to her, that’s a funny joke, because Evergreen Farm is very well established and one of the centerpieces in Kringle, an iconic institution that maintains the idea that Christmas is the season of perpetual hope. But to me... my nether regions start to shake all over again.
Because—and don’t fucking judge me for saying this; I swear I’m sane—but... the invaders.
“No, just curious,” I say casually, trying not to bring any focus on the anxiety rolling around inside me.
“She had bright blond hair, almost white, and really rich blue eyes framed by black eyelashes coated in mascara. Not ashamed to say that they slightly captured me. She was on the shorter side and wearing a red sweater.”
“Shorter than you?” I ask Kate, who is just about five foot.
She chuckles. “No, I’d say maybe an inch taller than me.”
I nod, tucking that information away. “Good to know. Well, if you see her again and she has questions, just ping me on the walkie-talkie, and I’ll meet up with her.”
“Sounds good,” Kate says while I stand from my chair.
“Well, headed out again. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
With a smile, I wave to her and then exit the tree shack. The moment the light whip of the wind hits me, panic overtakes me, driving me toward the reindeer barn.
Evergreen Farm is one of those places where customers can visit for at least half a day. Not only do we have a tree farm where we cut and plant trees, but we’re home to Santa’s reindeer, gingerbread-making classes, snowmobile rides, ice-skating among the tall pines, and a whole section of vendors where you can find a vast array of unique Christmas gifts. We embody the Christmas spirit, and we have for years, so someone snooping around the day after I heard invaders on the property? Uh yeah, not on my watch.
I hurry to the reindeer barn, bypassing a family tugging their sleds to the small kiddie hill we keep open for those who might want to participate in some sledding. The farm is busy, and I’m glad we have a plethora of workers helping out, especially with bundling trees, because I have some important business to tend to.
I push open the barn door and then quickly shut it behind me. My best friend’s sweeping some spare hay that’s fallen tothe ground, clearly in his element, not ready for my tornado of neurotic behavior.
Thirteen years ago, if you’d told me my best friend would be working at my family farm as the reindeer handler, I’d have told you you might want to check your crystal ball again, because Cole was supposed to go to college and get a degree in something that didn’t involve scooping up reindeer shit. I don’t think his intentions were to stay in Kringle, but when he lost his parents on Christmas Eve, everything changed. He became a recluse and stopped celebrating Christmas, and that’s when my dad stepped in and offered him a job. I know it was to keep Cole busy and to give him something to do, but I also think it was because my dad wanted to keep a close eye on him. My parents were friends with Cole’s parents, and I know losing them was just as much as a hit to them.
Twelve-ish years later, and Cole is still working the reindeer barn, but now it’s a little different because he brings his eldest daughter, Florence, in to help.
“Cole, we need to talk.”
On an exasperated exhale, he looks up from where he’s sweeping. “Dude, if this is about the invaders, I’m not fucking doing this today. I’m tired, and I want to get home so I can just hang out with my wife and daughters.”
“You know, it hurts that I’m no longer the person you strive to hang out with anymore.”
“Yeah, because you’re going on tangents about your parents disappearing and strangers trying to take over your farm.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” I say as I walk up to him. “I was just talking to Kate over at the shack, and get this: there’s a woman lurking around, asking about vendors.”
He clutches his chest dramatically. “Oh no, not a woman. What ever shall we do?”
My expression falls. “You act just like my brothers, who by the way were not answering me on purpose just to be asses. But back to you. You don’t have to be so sarcastic all the time.”
“And like I said before, you don’t have to act like an idiot all the time.”
“I’m not acting like an idiot. I’m telling you, something’s going on. Something is—” I gasp. “Fuck, do you think my parents are setting this whole thing up, wanting to test me? See how I can handle the pressure of competition while they’re gone?”
“No, I don’t.”
