Epilogue
Max
Narrator: Don’t you just love a happily ever after?
Me too.
And this one was well deserved. In true Max fashion, he couldn’t just take the chocolate-covered cherries to her cottage.
Nope, he had to shut down the streets of Kringle, clear the sidewalks, have a near accident in front of a store, trip the girl he likes, and then file out with all his comrades to make a show of it.
Just surprised he wasn’t wearing any lederhosen for the final scene.
Maybe it’s something I need to reconsider. Then again, the feathers and paint cans seem a little much.
As for me, I’ve heard there have been questions as to who I am.
Well, let wondering minds rest, because my storytelling days are through.
I have bigger, more important jobs to take on now that my father is retiring.
And frankly, even though you have some naughty minds, I don’t think I can take one more candy cane or chocolate-covered cherry being used inappropriately.
So . . . Merry Christmas, you filthy animals. Bob Krampus Junior, over and out.
“Our baby is going to marry your baby one day,” I say as I squeeze Betty’s hand while sitting on the porch of Cole and Storee’s house.
“Yeah, not happening,” Cole says while he hands a lemonade to his pregnant wife.
Yup, Storee is pregnant again, with baby number three, and my wife is pregnant with baby number one.
Yeah, you read that right.
Wife.
It took me three months to muster the courage to ask, only for her to accept and tell me the same day that she was pregnant.
Talk about a whirlwind of emotions. We kept the wedding small and intimate because Betty was battling some really bad morning sickness but still wanted to get married sooner rather than later.
We got married on the farm under the tall pine trees.
Florence was the flower girl and stole the show—that was until Betty walked down the aisle in a simple floor-length white dress and a flower crown.
Best day of my life.
We took a small honeymoon up in Estes Park where we got some cherry pie and hung out in Rocky Mountain National Park, sleeping in late and spending our days lounging.
Now that we’re back, Cole and Storee shared with us their important news.
“You’re right. Our baby will be too good for your baby,” I say.
“Hey,” Storee says, insulted. “These are unborn children.”
“Sorry,” I say on a wince. “But your son would be lucky to take my daughter’s hand.”
“He’s right,” Betty says with a wink.
“Oh, I know,” Storee says. “Because if he’s any bit as grumpy as his father, he’ll be very lucky.”
“I’m not that grumpy,” Cole says on a huff.
Not sure who he’s kidding. He’s incredibly grumpy.
“How are the wedding plans going for Taran and Gus?” I ask.
“Guy,” Betty says, correcting me.
“Fuck, why do I keep doing that?”
“Because you have issues,” Cole says as he gets down on the porch with his daughters and starts playing with them.
“Good so far,” Storee says. “Besides the fact that Guy is set on hiring a polka band for the reception.”
“Oh God, really?” Betty asks.
“Yup. The Kenosha Kickers. Says they only charge a hundred and twenty-two fifty an hour, which apparently is cheaper than a DJ.”
“But it’s polka music,” I say, offended as well.
“Taran’s point exactly.” Storee shakes her head. “I’m not sure it’s a battle she’s going to be able to win, but we shall see.” She sips her lemonade and then asks, “I saw all the cottages were delivered. Are you getting excited? Think you’ll be open by Christmas?”
“That’s the goal,” Betty says with glee. “We’ve been working hard on getting everything set up. The permits took forever, but now it feels like we’re on a roll. We might not have everything ready, but we will be ready enough for at least a soft opening.”
After Christmas, Betty presented her idea to Dwight, who was overwhelmed with the plans.
His mind was going a mile a minute, and he even agreed it was a much better idea than the initial one.
He’s been engrossed, planning and executing with Betty ever since.
I wouldn’t say we’re the best of friends, but we’ve hung out a little while Betty has been around, and we’ve joked a bit.
I think there always will be some tension there, but at least we can get along and appreciate each other.
As for Dwight and Ansel, they’re still not friends, and Dwight still hates him, which is understandable.
However, Ansel, Felix, and I have been getting together once a month to have lunch.
We talk about our businesses and what’s going on in our lives, occasionally reminisce.
They’ve also been prepping me on how to run a business in a more modern way since Mom and Dad tend to be a little more old-school.
This Christmas, I’ll be taking on the farm myself while Mom and Dad go on another Christmas market vacation, but this time in New York City.
I’m nervous about taking on the farm but excited as well.
Over the last twelve months, I’ve also incorporated many of Betty’s excellent ideas for the farm.
There are more paved pathways and parking lots, we have secured better rates with more earth-friendly fake tree suppliers, and we’re still investigating snack options.
It feels like it’s our farm too now, which is the best of both worlds in my mind.
“That’s so exciting, and the house, how is it coming along?” Storee asks.
Betty and I started building our own house on Evergreen Farm. It’s been a challenge, but it’s been a lot of fun too, putting together a place that we can call our own.
“Should be in it by the time the baby is born. Thank God, because I would not want to have a baby in the cottage.”
Yeah, we’ve been staying in the cottage together . . . for months now.
It’s tight, and I keep a lot of my clothes in a shed outside the cottage, but it’s better than sharing a house with my parents. Do you know why?
Because I found popcorn garland in their bedroom one day . . . just sitting there on the nightstand, and I will tell you right now, I have not been the same since.
It was at that moment that I realized I could not share a home with them anymore.
“I don’t even know where you’d put the baby,” Storee says. “Maybe in the terrarium with Buzz.”
“If the baby is with Buzz, I wouldn’t be changing any diapers,” I say.
Betty rolls her eyes. “He gets out of his cage once, and now Atlas is scared out of his life to be near him.”
“It’s a spider the size of my goddamn fist, so I’m sorry if that is startling.”
“Goddamn,” Florence says on a laugh, while Cole and Storee both give me an evil look.
I nervously laugh. “At least it’s not boner.”
“Goddamn boner,” Florence says while clapping her hands. “Oh, goddamn boner.”
Cole points toward my truck. “Leave.”
“Yup, I think it’s time for us to go.” I pull Betty to her feet, offer my friends a wave as Florence continues to repeat herself, and hand in hand, we head to my truck, where I open the door for her.
“You know, you’re going to have to watch yourself when our little girl comes around.”
I help her into the truck, and she turns toward me, the prettiest smile crossing her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll do better.”
“I know you will.” She cups my cheek. “You’re going to be the best father.”
I kiss her hand. “Because I have you at my side.”
She leans in and kisses me on the lips. When she pulls away, I say, “Maybe when our kids are older, they can enter the Christmas Kringle competition and blow Cole’s kids away with their talents.”
“Atlas, they are unborn.”
“I know, but a dad can only dream.”
“You don’t need to dream, because that’s obviously going to happen.”
I chuckle. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too.”