I was so dead to the world I didn’t even hear that stupid hippo song when Bodhi left the room in search of breakfast, according to the note he left behind on a piece of Santa hippo paper from the complimentary pad on the nightstand. Along with a bag of assorted Christmas chocolates, a tin of homemade Christmas cookies, a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, a box of Cheez-Its, and a bag of homemade chocolate-covered pretzels, as a “Pre-breakfast warmup so you don’t go downstairs hangry and light a small child on fire. Text me when you wake up, and I’ll meet you in the dining room. Love you the most-est.”
There was definitely something in both of my eyes that made them water as I ate everything—without even sitting up in bed—that my boyfriend went in search of for me, because he knows me so well, and he’s just always thoughtful like that. It was obviously yesterday’s mascara I didn’t give two shits about washing off last night before I passed out in bed that caused the wetness in my eyes. Good thing I took a quick shower before I came down here and that shit won’t be happening again right now, thank you very much.
“Millie, there you are! I need to talk to you about one of the gifts you bought from my list.”
A guest in her early sixties shuffles past Allie and me through the foyer as the other guest walks away from the counter, and Allie finishes refilling a mug with chocolate-dipped spoons covered in crushed-up bits of candy canes.
“Oh, Tess, I forgot to tell you the good news!” Millie claps her hands as the guest sets a white gift box on the counter in front of her. “I have found my true calling while here at The Redinger House, and I have offered up my services as a personal shopper for the guests. You just give me a list, and I’ll hustle over to the civilized part of the mountain where there’s a Starbucks and Prada and get whatever you need. It’s been going superbly; isn’t that right, Barbara?”
The woman gives Millie a sheepish smile. “That’s actually what I wanted to discuss with you, sweetie. I know my handwriting isn’t very easy to read, and I’m sorry about that. On the list I gave you last night, I actually wrote that I wanted a Craftsman cordless drill for Eugene. It’s the only thing that stubborn man asked for this year. He’s not gonna want… this.”
She slides the gift box closer to Millie, and Millie slides it right back with a smile, while I bring my mug up to my mouth. Allie stops me to lean over and squirt a pile of whipped cream on top, adding a couple of shakes of red-and-green Christmas sprinkles before I can stop her, and then zooming right over to the check-in counter like some sort of Christmas cocoa ninja.
“Does someone need a drill?”
For the first time in my life, I actually jump, and scream like a little girl, when stalker Sheldon pops up right behind me, the reindeer antlers still perched on top of his bald head paired with a dark-blue Christmas sweater with white reindeer and snowflakes stitched on it.
“I’ve got two cordless drills in my trunk with multiple attachments for drilling into really thick and hard stuff if you need one.”
Do you mean a skull, Sheldon? Is that what you mean?
When no one answers Sheldon, he just shrugs and heads into the living room, and Millie turns her attention back on the guest.
“Oh, Barbara, you’re so precious.” She sighs as I grab a chocolate-dipped spoon and mush all the whipped cream and sprinkles down into the hot liquid. “I once had to read a ransom letter on camera for a Columbian drug lord that was written by his brother-in-law who had an unfortunate hand tremor, due to the knife that was sticking out of his hand while he wrote the ransom letter. Your penmanship was a piece of cake; trust me. Eugene is a good man, and a good man should have a cashmere sweater from Neiman Marcus. Don’t worry. The $1,500 extra I spent is my gift to you. Help me help you help Eugene this Christmas, Barb.”
With a nod and a confused look on her face, Barb takes the gift box and heads into the living room toward the stairs to go up to the rooms, and hopefully nowhere near wherever Sheldon disappeared to while thoughts of sugar plums and skull-drilling dance in his head.
“You have got to stop buying people what you think they should want, instead of what they actually want,” Allie reminds her as Millie waves her away with one perfectly manicured hand.
The two of them bicker back and forth for a few minutes, and it makes me miss my friends. Not enough to get in the rental and head right back to Summersweet or anything, but enough to make me wish they were here for just a second.