A Christmas Reunion - Nic Starr

1

The little bright orange warning light on the dashboard seemed to mock Hunter Cavendish; a final nail in the coffin, so to speak. As if this day could get any worse. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Don’t break down, for God’s sake, just let me get there soon and in one piece.

Hunter repeated the mantra in his head and then snorted—this was the one and only time in recent memory he could remember wanting to get to Cavendish Crossing. He just hoped the Jeep would hold out for the last few miles. He knew enough to know the little blinking symbol meant the car was overheating, but he didn’t have any spare water for the radiator, assuming it was empty, and if it wasn’t and the problem was a leak, he had no idea what he’d do. He wished he knew more about cars, but mechanics wasn’t his thing.

His thoughts swirled with the list of things that could go wrong if the Jeep finally decided to give up the ghost. What was the worst thing that could happen? The motor would just cease running and he’d coast to a stop on the side of the road? Or maybe the whole engine would blow up. He hoped not; the Jeep was nearly ten years old, but it went well, and he loved the old thing—bought with the proceeds of his first job. Hunter crossed his fingers as he kept one eye on the road and the other on the display. Luckily the interior heating was still working, and everything sounded okay. He huffed out a laugh. He could just imagine telling his dad that he kept driving because the car sounded okay—his dad with his small fleet of cars that were no doubt serviced to a military schedule.

The Jeep rounded the corner of the mountain road, and Cavendish Crossing, in all its glory, came into view. Hunter’s breath caught. No matter what his personal thoughts about the town, or more precisely its people, he couldn’t deny its beauty. Tall forests of pine trees had lined the road on the last part of the trip, but as he’d come over the last rise, he saw a sprawling mix of A-frames and homes built from wood and stone with gabled roofs. As he neared, he noticed new buildings constructed of steel and huge glass panes. Progress. Things hadn’t stayed still in his absence, and he wondered what else had changed.

Hunter hadn’t been back to Cavendish Crossing for four years. In fact, if he had his way, he’d never come back to this town. But after successfully managing to avoid his mother’s pleas in recent years, he’d finally succumbed. It was hard to come up with a good enough reason to keep him away from his grandparents’ golden wedding anniversary. And God help the fallout if he simply hadn’t shown up as he’d been wont to do.

Hunter adjusted in his seat, rolling his shoulders to help rid them of kinks. After nearly five hours in the car, he needed to get out and stretch properly, but it was a two-edged sword. Reaching town without breaking down and getting out of the cramped car would mean he’d arrived at his destination. He sighed and resigned himself to the next two weeks.

No going back now.

Cavendish Crossing was a small town about thirty minutes’ drive from the nearest Lake Tahoe resort town. It always amazed people when Hunter told them that his parents had a vacation house in Cavendish Crossing—despite their last name, which gave a big hint as to why—and not in some swanky resort village. But Hunter’s family had been some of the original inhabitants of Cavendish Crossing, helping to establish the town and living there for multiple generations. Hunter’s great-grandfather, Gerald Cavendish, had owned multiple businesses in the area, employing many of the people who lived there. He had become a powerful and wealthy man, controlling much of the town. He passed the business on to his son, Gerald Junior, who was now the patriarch of the family. Hunter supposed that half the properties in Cavendish Crossing were once owned by his family; if not by his grandfather, then by one of his other relatives. Real estate and hospitality were the main focuses of the company now. Cavendish Properties was well known in the broader Tahoe area, establishing a number of successful resorts.

Hunter’s parents no longer lived in Cavendish Crossing full-time—thankfully—having moved to Los Angeles to expand the family company across the nation. Their