his heart swelled with love. He had two promises to make. Two promises he’d spend his life honoring.
“Now, if you still want to go to the airport, Scooter, I’ll call you a cab. It’s your decision to make,” the judge said.
Soren stared at the picture of Bridget. “There’s somewhere I need to go. But it’s not the airport,” he replied, voice brimming with conviction. He pressed the photo to his heart and closed his eyes as a sense of peace washed over him. But he wasn’t expecting for something to poke him in the chest.
He unzipped his coat. Yes, he’d passed out wearing his jacket. It happens when drinking with ex Santas. But when he reached into his breast pocket, he couldn’t believe what he’d found.
A black velvet pouch.
“The rings! Judge, I forgot I had them in here. Tom gave them to me the day Bridget and I arrived at Kringle Mountain and…” He glanced at the clock. They still had a little time before the Christmas Eve wedding festivities would start. “And you, Judge! We have to get you back to the mountain house. You’re the one who’s supposed to officiate the wedding. We have to go!”
With determination flooding his system, he rose to his feet.
“I’m putting it all on the line! It’s time to take the leap. Whether I’m forgiven or not, I need to get to Kringle Mountain and speak my peace. I’m hoping for a Christmas miracle,” he said, a man on the verge of redemption.
The North Pole contingent clapped and cheered as Judge Lawrence Duncan tossed him a little wink.
“Go get ’em, Soren Christopher Traeger Rudolph!”
“Excuse me, but I don’t think anyone is going anywhere. Have you looked outside?” another Santa-looking man said, cutting short the celebration as he pulled off a snow-covered cap and propped a snow shovel against the wall.
Soren stared at the man. “What do you mean?”
“The roads are treacherous. They even closed the highway. Not to mention, it looks like Kringle Mountain has lost power,” the man added, stomping the snow off his boots.
“But we have to get to the Kringle Mountain House. I’ve got a wedding to save, and I need to tell Bridget that I love her.”
“Sit tight, young fella. They usually get the power back in a day or two. Dan and Delores know what to do. They’ve got a generator and are always stocked up this time of year.”
“What about the gondola to get to the Kringle Chapel,” he pressed.
The man scratched his head. “Kringle Chapel has a fireplace, so if you could get there, you’d be able to keep warm. But if the mountain’s lost power, the gondola to the chapel won’t be running.”
No, no, no! Not when he was so close!
Soren paced the length of the gathering area, staring out the large windows into the parking lot, covered in drifts of snow.
He’d give anything if Cole were right, and Christmas fairies did exist.
He knew exactly what he’d wish for.
He rested his head on the cold windowpane when the answer to his dilemma looked him square in the eye.
He turned to the Santa contingent. “Those three snowcats—they could make it up Kringle Mountain, right?”
The bearded men joined him at the window along with the man who’d been out shoveling snow.
“You mean Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher.”
“Who?”
“The snowcats,” one of the Mrs. Clauses called. “They’re named after our reindeer.”
“Santa’s reindeer,” he corrected.
“Yes, our reindeer,” the honorable Lawrence Duncan, retired judge and part-time Santa, replied with another sly wink.
“And the three snowcats you’ve got here just happen to be Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher?”
“That’s right,” the burly Santa replied.
Soren stared at the snowcats, feeling more determined than ever, as something else caught his eye. “What’s that, over there?”
“That would be a snow angel,” the shoveling man replied.
Holy Christmas fairies!
“Did you make it?” he asked excitedly.
The man chuckled as he brushed the snow off his coat. “No, son. My snow angel making days are well behind me.”
It had to be a sign!
He turned to the Santas. “I need your help. The judge and I must get to the Kringle Mountain House, and then the wedding party will need a ride up to the chapel. Can Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher handle that?”
“There’s not much that Rudolph, Vixen, and Dasher can’t handle,” the burly Santa replied.
Soren grinned. No, there wasn’t!
“Then, we need to go. There’s no time to lose. Judge, are you ready?” he asked, glancing around the room.
Judge Franklin Abbott clapped him on the shoulder. “You bet I am, Scooter.”