Chapter 4
winter where?
Holly
Holly checked the time on her new watch. Five minutes early.
For good measure, she tapped the face and checked her heart rate. Normal.
Good. Because she was nervous.
She’d been summoned to her father’s office a month before Christmas Eve.
Meetings this close to the big night weren’t unusual, but a lone summons?
Not exactly a good sign. Dad and Aunt Shelly must be concerned about that dip in production on her last report.
But she was prepared. They could implement a twenty-four-hour production cycle and streamline shift rotations.
“Ah, there you are, my dear.” Her father appeared at the end of the hallway, his voice warm and booming. “Perfect timing as always. Shelly’s already inside.”
Adam Kringle was no jolly Santa stereotype.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and disciplined, he rationed Christmas cookies like currency, allowing himself one each day, and adding ten minutes to his treadmill routine for every extra indulgence.
His salt-and-pepper hair was now mostly salt, and his new beard was pure white.
“Hi Dad. Couldn’t resist the Santa beard, eh?” she teased.
He chuckled. “I figured I’d try it out. Your mother isn’t sold, but she’s letting me experiment.”
“It's not a requirement,” she said. “You don’t see Aunt Shelly growing one.”
He grinned and scratched his chin. “Touché. Come on in before she finishes the meeting without us.”
Shelly Kringle stood by the office sideboard, pouring herself a glass of water from a crystal pitcher. She turned with a bright smile. “Holly! Good to see you, sweetheart.”
“You too, Aunt Shelly.” Holly took the leather chair across from her father’s desk, her eyes flickering around the office. She still found it strange not to see her grandfather there.
Retirement had suited him, though. The last time she’d seen him, he’d looked younger than his eighty-five years, tanned and laughing on his way to another cruise with his new girlfriend—their third that year.
Her father and Shelly took their seats.
Aunt Shelly was Chief Operating Santa, a position she’d held under Grandfather. When he retired, she turned down the top job. It still baffled Holly. Who in their right mind didn’t want to be Chief Executive Santa?
But the two made a good team, and her father’s transition to the role had gone smoothly.
But Adam Kringle had his own style, and the change in leadership was reflected in his office.
Gone was Grandfather’s cluttered, cozy chaos.
Adam had transformed it into something warm and orderly: polished wood panels, plaid cushions, a crackling stone hearth, and a Christmas tree decked in woodland ornaments.
Framed photographs of every regional workshop lined the wall, while the family’s legendary Book of Santa rested in a glass display case beside the first Claus globe.
Adam absentmindedly picked up a snow globe from his desk, gave it a shake, and set it down again.
Holly couldn’t wait any longer. “So what’s this meeting about?”
Her father and aunt exchanged a look that made her stomach knot.
“We’d like your input on an idea,” Adam said carefully.
“Okay…” she said slowly.
He drew a breath. “Shelly and I have been discussing this for a while. We believe the Northeast Division should be divided into two regions.”
Holly blinked. “What?” She laughed, waiting for him to smile back. He didn’t. “This is a joke, right?”
“No,” Shelly said gently. “It’s time.”
“And what does Leif have to say about this?” she demanded. Her cousin was the American Lead Santa. “Shouldn’t he be here?”
“Unfortunately, Leif’s come down with the flu,” Shelly said, “but this was his suggestion originally.”
“So this is about the production dip.” Holly straightened. “I already have a plan.”
Adam raised a hand. “It’s not about the report, Hol. We’ve been considering this for some time.”
“For how long? Is that why I’m training Nicola and Finn? Because they’re going to be my replacements?” Her pulse spiked, and her watch helpfully beeped to confirm it.
“Not replacements,” Shelly said quickly. “Apprentices. But yes, easing the workload is part of it. The job satisfaction numbers and turnover rates can’t be ignored. Dividing the region and building a new workshop will help relieve the strain.”
Adam took a sip of water and leaned forward. “But more than numbers and dips in production, we’re worried about you.”
Holly froze. “Me?”
“You’re overworked,” he said simply. “You push yourself too hard.”
“What did Rita tell you? Because I’m monitoring it.” She held up her wrist. “See? Heart rate. Sleep tracker. Totally under control.” The watch beeped again, traitorously.
“Rita didn’t tell us anything,” Adam said. “But I read the department logs. When a medic gets called to your office, it’s hard not to notice. We’d never pry into your records, but it’s obvious you’re burning out. Honey, you look exhausted. There’s more to being a Santa than production numbers.”
Was there, though? For Holly, being a Santa was everything. Her goal. Her identity. Her legacy. She didn’t need hobbies or a social life; she had purpose. And that was enough.
“So,” she said tightly, “are you firing me?”
Adam laughed his deep, familiar Santa laugh. “Firing you? Of course not! We just want you to take a break.”
“But you’re dividing my region.”
“Likely, yes,” Shelly said, “but we’d never do it without your input. For now, though, we’re insisting you take some time off.”
“A vacation?” Holly repeated, incredulous. “Now? A month before Christmas?”
“Think of it as a working holiday,” Shelly said, cheerful as ever. “A change of scenery. It might do you good.”
Adam reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder.
“If we’re building a new workshop, we need a new location and a new power source.
One of our scouts located a potential Yule vein in a Vermont forest. The property’s just gone up for sale.
" He slid the folder across the desk to Holly. "So, we’d like you to assess the site and determine whether the Yule vein is powerful enough for our needs.”
Holly opened the folder. “And this can’t wait?”
“No,” Adam replied. “The property has already been on the market for a few weeks now. If this has what we need, we'll have to move fast.”
She took a moment to scan the report. “Winterwood?”
“That’s the nearest town,” Shelly said.
“You’re not planning another Mistletoe setup, are you?” Holly asked. Her brother Martin had established his workshop right in town, hidden in plain sight.
Adam shook his head. “No. This will be one of our traditional hidden villages.”
The room fell quiet except for the soft ticking of the clocks on the wall.
The thought of dividing her region still stung, but neither her aunt nor her father seemed angry, so this wasn’t a demotion.
Maybe it was a test to assess her adaptability, her leadership, her readiness for the next step.
If that was the case, then she’d do it, and she’d do it better than anyone else.
Fine, then. She'd go to Winter-where-ever, find the Yule vein, make her report, and get back to NED with a few weeks left before Christmas Eve. How hard could it be?
“All right,” she told them. “Consider it done. When do I leave?”