33. Lottie

LOTTIE

T he North Pole unfolds like a scene from a storybook, with glistening icicles and sparkling snow that crunches underfoot.

Everywhere we look, adorable elves dash to and fro with a hustle and bustle that's both frenetic and cheerful. Their pointy hats bob through the air like colorful buoys on rough waters.

The sky is periwinkle, the entire frozen world glows lavender, and it's a bona fide winter wonderland at our feet.

I've never been to this magical land before, and yet something deep inside of me feels as if this place has always been a part of me.

Giant candy canes line the winding paths, and the sweet aroma of peppermint and gingerbread fills the air, mingling with the cold, crisp scent of winter. And on either side of us, towering Christmas trees are adorned with glimmering ornaments and miles of silver tinsel as they stand tall over the bustling scene.

The joy and the energy of this place are palpable.

"Lot Lot?" Carlotta starts up again. "What the heck is happening?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Clara Dickens Greenmantle says as well.

But I'm too startled by my new environment to answer anyone's question.

From a distance, a figure appears, and that figure is unmistakably Santa himself. He steps forward with his iconic red suit and billowing white beard as he looks our way. His eyes twinkle as he begins to speed in our direction and his black boots crunch in the snow. Each step he takes seems to stir the magic in the air and instills a sense of awe in me and in every soul around.

He grips his belly, which almost rivals mine, and belts out a hearty, " Ho, ho, ho! "

He sounds jolly, and kind, and his voice resonates warmly against the crisp, polar backdrop.

My mouth opens to say something, and yet not a sound comes out.

Christmas carols start up somewhere in the distance, and I look past him to see what looks to be a castle comprised of ice that rises majestically in the sky. Its towering spires glint under what looks to be the Northern Lights, casting prisms that reflect across the sky and the snow.

A large wooden sign that reads Santa's Workshop sits to the right, and in that building the lights glow from within as a sea of elves bustle about with piles of toys in their arms. And just to the right of that, in front of a Christmas tree that stands fifty feet tall if not a hundred, is a pile of neatly wrapped gifts that could easily dwarf New York City.

This entire new world around us radiates a warmth and magic that defies the icy facade, inviting all who gaze upon it to believe in the wonder of Christmas.

"That's it. I'm staying," Carlotta bleats as she wraps herself around Thimblewick and begins to jump up and down as if he were a pogo stick.

"Alas, you see the light, my beautiful Cray Cray queen." Thimblewick sounds more than pleased. And honestly, if I left Carlotta here, it might really be the gift that keeps on giving to both Noah and Everett, and maybe a handful of other people.

"Well, I'm staying, too." Clara plucks herself free from me and makes a run for the workshop.

"Killer on the loose," I bellow, and just like that, the North Pole goes from calm and idyllic to outright chaotic and terrifying.

Elves scramble, Santa gags and spins in a circle, and Thimblewick lets out an ear-piercing whistle.

"Apprehend that woman in the purple hat," he commands.

Carlotta takes a moment to swoon. "I've always had a thing for a man in power."

And the chase is on—albeit Clara doesn't get too far. Soon enough, she's nabbed, knocked to the ground, and gift-wrapped complete with a bow—she's more or less mummy wrapped in glossy poinsettia printed paper with her head sticking out and her hands tied behind her back with a bright red satin ribbon.

"Good work," I call out as I run over and grab her by the elbow. "Now send me back. She doesn't belong here—and well, neither do I."

My eyes drink in as much of this frozen paradise as I can before both Thimblewick and Santa head this way—and Carlotta begrudgingly does as well.

"Why does it always have to be about you, Lot?" Carlotta whines. "Can't you go gently into that good nightmare we came from and leave the rest of us be? But no, not Lottie Dottie Lemonade. You need to make a big fuss over it, making sure everyone here knows when you're coming and going." She nods to Thimblewick. "Go on and kick her baby booming keester to the Honey Hollow curb. Then hurry up and show me which ice castle is mine. I hope it has a TV the size of a tractor in it, too."

"TV?" Thimblewick wrinkles his nose. "We don't have television here, Carlotta."

" Huh? " Her face goes white. "Well, what about a burger joint? That will make up for it."

A collective gasp circles around us.

"We don't eat meat," Thimblewick is slow to admit. "But we have lots and lots of candy canes in all types of flavors."

"No meat and no TV?" Carlotta begins to sob. "What in the fresh hell do you people do around here? You know, between your joyful romps in the bedroom?"

More gasps of horror ensue.

"Get her out of here," Santa says it sternly enough that I'm moved to kick Carlotta out myself.

"I'm sorry, Cray Cray." Thimblewick sighs. "But somehow bringing you to my home has broken the spell between us." He gives a simple shrug. "I do hope you have a wonderful life with that dimbledorf you'll be saddled with at midnight." He reaches back and throws a fistful of stars our way, and soon we're wrapped in a sparkling supernova that all but blinds us.

"Back to Honey Hollow you go, ho, ho ," Santa shouts, and just like that, the three of us are right back on the snow-covered patio of the Evergreen Manor.

"Lemon," Everett shouts as the dark night envelops us, and it feels so very cold, so very cold for so many other reasons that have nothing to do with the weather.

Everett wraps his arms around me just as Noah pulls Clara to him and he cuffs her.

"Lottie, are you okay?" Noah shouts and I nod, looking up at Everett.

"I'm fine. The babies are fine, too."

Noah grunts as he squints at Clara. "Is she—gift wrapped?"

"Merry Christmas," I pant out a laugh his way. "You've got yourself a killer."

Soon enough, the entire grounds are covered with deputies from the sheriff's department while Everett takes both Carlotta and me into the Evergreen where we can thaw out.

" Lemon ." Everett presses his forehead to mine. "When I thought I lost you, I?—"

"I'm here," I say, pulling back a notch. "Now what's this secret you and Noah have been keeping from me? And don't try to deny it. You practically hinted at it yourself yesterday. You know what I'm talking about."

" Ooh ." Carlotta hops over. "This had better be good, Sexy. I'm missing out on some sexy time myself just so I can hear it." She tips an ear our way.

Everett's lips part, but before he can spill a single syllable, Ivy Fairbanks stalks this way with her crimson locks spun into a tight bun and that signature scowl of hers pointed my way.

" You ," she glowers. "Congratulations," she seethes. "You caught another one. But not before you accused my mother of murder!"

Everett raises a brow and I shrug up at him.

"She made a really good red herring," I say to the two of them.

Ivy opens her mouth and points a finger my way before she sighs hard and puts down her hand.

"You're right." She rolls her eyes. "And just so you know, if the shoe were on the other foot, I probably would have accused your mother of murder as well."

"And I do believe you've done it a time or two," I say, and for the first time in a long while, we share a warm laugh.

"Merry Christmas," she says before speeding right back out of the Evergreen.

"Now come on, Sexy." Carlotta leans in. "What's the big news?"

I nod up at him. "I'm anxious to hear it as well."

"Not here," Everett says with a sigh. "But soon."

"Like after you have some of my plum pudding soon ?" I ask, hopeful.

"Like tomorrow soon." He shrugs. "I just want to bask in the glory of my beautiful wife tonight. Is that too much to ask?"

"Never," I say as I pull him in. "So long as I get to play the part of your beautiful wife."

"The part is yours forever." His lips curve just this side of a smile, but he's too stubborn to give it. "How about heading back to the party? I hear Santa is on his way."

"Oh, he is," I say. "And boy, does he have a lot of presents to deliver."

"Someone's on the nice list," he teases.

"It's definitely not Carlotta."

True as gospel.

Just like Santa.

Just like my love for Everett, Noah, and this crazy family we've built.