Chapter 4

After the pilots inform us that we’re done flying for the day—and possibly tomorrow, too—Addie works her magic and finds the one motel in town that can accommodate all of us. When the owners hear who their guests are, they send people from town to pick us up and deliver us to the Castaway Inn—a fitting name in light of our predicament.

Addie had arranged to bring days’ worth of food and booze with us on the plane so we wouldn’t need to worry about grocery shopping when we got to Aspen. We bring everything with us to the motel.

The place is clean but basic, one of those roadside places in which the doors open into the parking lot and the rooms are adjoining. Not exactly the accommodations we’ve become accustomed to, but the certainty we were going to die on that plane has put us all in a festive mood. Fluff sniffs every square inch of the place and apparently finds it to her liking. She curls up in a ball on our bed and is snoring within minutes.

We throw open the connecting doors inside the rooms, and before long, we’ve got a full-on party going. It’s a good thing we’re the only guests, because we’d probably get kicked out if there were others.

By six o’clock, it’s snowing hard and accumulating rapidly.

Over the next two days, the weather only gets worse, and we begin to accept that Christmas in Aspen isn’t going to happen. Nat’s sisters and the rest of my family are grounded, too, and we’ve been in touch with them to commiserate about best-laid plans.

We’re passing the time eating, sleeping and playing the board games we found in a closet in the main part of the motel, which also has a kitchen the starstruck owners made available to us. Even Rafe has been more enjoyable than usual, which is a relief as we’re stuck in close quarters. Despite the close quarters, I’m still getting plenty of time alone with Natalie, which is the best part of being stranded.

If I’m being honest, this is the most relaxed I’ve been in longer than I can remember. There’s absolutely nothing to do but be together, which is perfect in its own way. Aileen, who had a mini freak-out when she realized we’d be stuck here for Christmas, told the kids that Santa will find them, but it may not be right on Christmas Day since we aren’t where we’re supposed to be.

Thankfully, they seem to have accepted that explanation as they decorated the “Charlie Brown” tree the guys managed to find in a deserted tree lot down the street from the motel. The kids spent the day making paper snowflakes and other improvised decorations. The gifts the rest of us brought on the plane for the kids are underneath the tree for Christmas morning. As Aileen said, Logan and Maddie are far more accustomed to “sparse” Christmases than they are with a windfall, so they’re perfectly content with what they have.

Late on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I find Natalie in our room, standing at the window, watching the snow that shows no sign of slowing down. I slip an arm around her from behind, resting my chin on top of her head. “How do you feel about Christmas in Saint George, Utah?”

“As long as you’re in Saint George, it’s fine by me.”

“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to give you a magical Christmas.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still magical. I don’t need a big fancy house in Aspen to be happy when I have you and Fluff and my best friends. I wish my sisters were here, but we’ll see them in a day or two when the weather clears.”

I think about the women I knew before her, including the one I was married to. None of them would’ve found magic at the Castaway Inn in Saint George, Utah, especially when they’d been promised a movie star’s home in Aspen. That Natalie can find the magic no matter where we are or what we’re doing is one of many things that make her the love of my life.

“In case I’ve failed to mention it today, I love you, Mrs. Godfrey.”

“Love you, too, Mr. Godfrey.” She looks back at me over her shoulder. “Can we come back here for Christmas every year?”

Smiling, I flatten my hand over the baby bump. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“How fun would it be to come back here year after year and recreate this first Christmas together?”

“It would be fun.”

“How long do you think it’ll take before we need all the rooms?”

We’ve rented ten of the Castaway’s seventeen rooms. “A year? Maybe two?”

She laughs. “If it takes that long.”

Last Christmas, I thought the biggest thing that might happen in the new year was my first acting Oscar. Funny how that turned out to be the least of what happened. With my arms around my wife and my hands curled around our unborn child, I’m content in a way I’ve never been before—and it’s all because of Natalie. She’s the key to everything.

Best. Christmas. Ever.