Catching a glimpse of a legendary all-white reindeer is supposed to bring good luck.
Not for Georgia Greene.
As Georgia makes her way home for Christmas, a white reindeer dashes across the road in front of her, causing her to crash her car into a...
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Felix
It was another perfect winter morning on the Nissen Christmas Tree farm. The blizzard from the night before had ceased its howling sometime in the early hours and now the whole landscape was calm and quiet, blanketed with a thick layer of perfect, sparkling snow. Fences and shrubs and bushes had all been blotted out, hidden beneath the drifts. Only the very tops of the signature Nissen Christmas trees managed to poke out, making them look like little miniatures against the perfectly smooth surface of white. It was a very pretty little scene, the kind a folk artist would want to capture in one of his bucolic paintings.
And it made Felix Nissen want to barf.
He stomped downstairs with his laptop tucked under his arm, thinking of how the storm last night was sure to have wreaked havoc on the cable and power lines. He was surprised the farmhouse even still had power. But judging by the hundreds, if not thousands, of twinkling lights that were woven through the garlands that hung throughout every inch of his mother's house, the power was definitely still on. He hoped it would hold. He had work to do.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he found his mother at the wood stove, puttering away like it was any other morning and four feet of snow hadn't been dumped all around them during the night. He paused to admire his mom. Beneath her cheesy peppermint-stripe sweater, she was a tough old bird. She had made it home, driving through the storm, in one piece. But, also, she wasn't getting any younger. He was really starting to worry about her. It really was getting a little too dangerous out here for just one person. The storm last night had been proof of that. And his dad was her age when he—
His mother noticed him staring. "Good morning, dear," she said, giving him a stiff, reserved smile.
Ah, he thought. So she was still mad about last night.
"Morning Ma," Felix said as he came over to give her a quick peck on the forehead. Though she was not a small woman, he easily towered over her. His mother always joked that he had gotten all of his dad's 'Viking' genes though he got her dark tanned skin. "Where's the coffee?"
She accepted his kiss but her demeanor towards him was still cool. "Just making a fresh pot now," she said, picking up the Santa hat kettle that had just started to whistle.
His mom took the kettle over to the counter and poured the boiling water into the large French-press that was ready and waiting. Almost instantly the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the air. Felix inhaled deeply, savoring it. At least that was one perk of being home.
"That smells wonderful," Felix said. "No one makes coffee like you do."
"Mmhmm," was all his mother said. No amount of flattery would smooth her prickly mood. "Go sit down. No sense in looming over me. Coffee will be ready when it's ready."
Felix just sighed and walked off, leaving her to her business. His mother hated when people hovered while she was busy in the kitchen, especially if she was annoyed. He headed for the small breakfast nook that opened off the kitchen. He went to sit down at the table before stopping himself—he had almost sat down at the head of the table, in his dad's old spot. There was a stained ring left in the wood from decades of his dad putting his coffee mug in the same exact spot every morning, marking it as his and his alone. No one else sat there, not even now.
