began when a sharp ping cut through the crackle of the fire.
“Is that your phone?” he asked, directing the question to the pink-cheeked Bridget.
“No, it’s Cole,” she replied, peeling back the blanket.
“It’s my tracker,” the boy answered with a nonchalant wave of his little hand.
“Your what?” he asked.
“My tracker for skiing. Mommy put it on my coat and one on Carly’s coat, too. We have them so she can find us if we got separated on the mountain,” Cole answered, showing them the circular fob attached to the zipper of his jacket.
“Delores must have gotten word to everyone,” Bridget said when a grinding, mechanical rumble thundered over the crackle of the fire.
“What could that be?” he asked as the fob continued to beep.
“It sounds like a snowcat,” Bridget answered, coming to her feet.
The grind of an engine ceased, and within seconds, Cole’s tracker stopped beeping, and voices cried out.
“Cole! Scooter!”
He caught Bridget’s eye. “It’s Denise.”
“Your moms are here, Cole,” Bridget said, smoothing the boy’s hair across his forehead.
Nancy was the first inside the cabin. “Honey, what happened?” she asked, falling to her knees and gathering the boy into her arms.
At the sight of his mother, tears trailed down his cheeks. “I wanted to see a Christmas fairy. I wanted to make a Christmas wish. Am I in trouble?”
“Oh, Cole,” she replied, her voice a cascade of nerves and relief.
Denise stood in the doorway with her hand pressed to her heart, then turned and called out toward two beams of light tinged with red. “He’s here! Scooter and Birdie are with him.”
Nancy glanced up. “Thank you for finding my little boy. I’m so sorry you had to venture out into this awful weather!”
Bridget shook her head. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I told Cole all about the fairies. If it wasn’t for me…” she trailed off, anguish written all over her face.
“If it wasn’t for you, this evening could have ended far worse,” Denise answered as she entered the cabin, then sank to her knees to embrace her son.
“The tracker was a good call,” he said, working to smooth out the shake in his voice as the true magnitude of the evening sank in.
Denise sighed and wiped her cheek. “Kids. They make you crazy, but I couldn’t imagine a life without this pint-sized knucklehead,” she finished with a teary chuckle as she ruffled her son’s hair.
“I didn’t lose my glasses, right, Uncle Scooter? See, they’re still on my face. So, I probably shouldn’t be in big, big trouble,” Cole added, tossing him an uneasy glance.
Soren bit back a grin. He wasn’t about to fill in the details of how the kid got his frames back. In fact, he was impressed. Cole’s negotiation skills were on par with all the legal eagles in his family.
“Yep, your glasses are safe and sound, just like you, buddy.”
Denise released a slow breath, and the woman he admired, who’d nicknamed him Scooter all those years ago, held her son’s gaze, going into social worker mode.
“While we’re so relieved that you’re all right, you could have gotten hurt, son. It’s never okay to go out alone without telling anyone, especially into the wilderness.”
“But the Christmas fairies, Mommy! They would have protected me,” Cole answered with the trusting innocence of a child.
“Fairies didn’t rescue you tonight, Cole. Guardian angels did,” Nancy said, glancing between himself and Bridget.
He looked over at his guardian angel counterpart. She smiled and nodded, but he’d caught the flash of guilt in her eyes.
She didn’t see herself as an angel. No, she blamed herself.
Nancy lifted Cole into her arms. “It’s been quite a night, kiddo. Everyone’s back at the mountain house, and we should get going. Dan’s friend from Kringle Acres took us up in a snowcat, and we don’t want to keep him out late either.”
“You got to ride in a snowcat?” Cole exclaimed, clearly catching his second wind.
“Yep, there’s too much snow to get here in a car, so we came up along one of the ski runs,” Nancy answered.
Cole gasped excitedly. “Do I get to ride in the snowcat, too?”
“You do. The nice man even let us take the snowcat they call Rudolph. It’s got a red light on top just like—”
“Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer! Let’s go!” Cole cried, pumping his little fist—another sign that the child was no worse for wear.