A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7) (30 page)

“Actually, dinner’s in the backseat,” she said, nodding over her shoulder to a red cooler. “I’ve got roast beef sandwiches and apples and a beer for you if you want it.”

If they weren’t going out to dinner, then where were they going? Now he began to feel uneasy. How long was he going to be stuck in this suit? “Okay,” he said, making his tone of voice serious so she’d realize he was done fooling around. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to Icicle Falls,” she said brightly.

“What?”

“This is a kidnapping.”

That was not funny. “Brooke,” he said sternly. “I’m not going to Icicle Falls.”

“Daddy,” she said just as sternly. “We’re
all
going to Icicle Falls. For Christmas. I booked us rooms at the Icicle Creek Lodge.”

“You can’t spring this on me, baby girl,” he said. “I don’t even have a change of clothes.”

“Not to worry. Dylan’s bringing clothes when he comes up later.”

He should’ve known she’d think of that. She’d probably given her younger brother a detailed list. He tried another argument. “I can’t leave my car at the mall.”

“Dylan’s picking it up after work and driving it to Icicle Falls. See? Everything’s under control.”

No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t remotely under control. James was getting hauled off to some stupid Bavarian village that would be chock-full of Christmas lights and happy tourists when all he’d wanted was to spend Christmas at home with his kids. Being depressed because his wife wasn’t there with them. And making the kids feel bad. Ho, ho, ho.

“We thought we should do something different this year,” Brooke added gently.

Maybe she was right. They could’ve tried to celebrate the way they’d always done with a big dinner on Christmas Eve, followed by a candlelight service at church and then pancakes and presents in the morning and friends over in the afternoon to sing Christmas carols and eat cookies. But it would all have been hollow and empty.

Still, he’d planned on trying. He’d bought a bunch of Christmas movies for them to watch and stocked up on cocoa, put up the tree and stuck their gift cards in among the branches. “I figured we’d have Christmas at home,” he said. Now he sounded like an ingrate and he didn’t want to do that. Anyway, it was too late now. They were halfway to Icicle Falls. The Polar Express had left the station.

“I think this will be good,” Brooke said. “It’s our gift to you.”

“Your gift?” Staying in some lodge would be expensive. “Oh, no. I’ll take care of it.”

“Daddy,” she said firmly. “You’ve always taken care of us. And you’ve always been Santa,” she added, smiling at him. “Now it’s our turn. So don’t ruin the game.”

He sighed and looked out the window at the stands of evergreens they were rushing past. He guessed he could play along.

As long as nobody asked him to be Santa this year. Because Santa had lost his Christmas spirit and he didn’t care if he ever found it again.

ISBN-13: 9781460383872

A Wedding on Primrose Street

Copyright © 2015 by Sheila Rabe

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