West Prescott never would’ve agreed to a holiday house swap if his mother hadn’t pressured him into it. And just less than two weeks ago. Most guys in their late thirties didn’t let their parents push them around, but West’s relationship with his mom was special. Now to discover it was actually his stepfather behind this last-minute deal—well, that changed things.
“So, you’re telling me that Drew dreamed up this half-baked plan?” West asked his sister as he shoved summery clothes into a duffel bag.
“Yes, but I think it’ll be fun,” McKenzie said on her end of the phone. “And you should see the house, West. Didn’t Mom send you photos? It’s fabulous.”
“I’ll admit the place looks pretty swanky. But palm trees and eighty degrees don’t sound much like Christmas to me.” He zipped the duffel.
“Spoken like a true songwriter,” she teased.
“A songwriter who wants to spend Christmas in his own home.” West went out to the catwalk, tossing his duffel bag down to the first floor. He gazed longingly at the wide-open living room, the tall stone fireplace, the comfortable furnishings. “And it’s all decorated for Christmas here too.”
“You’re kidding! You decorated for us?”
“Well, not me personally. I let Gunner Price use my house for his Christmas video six weeks ago. Professional decorators came in and really did a number on my place. You should see it.” He gazed down at the enormous tree, decked out in mountain style with little cabins, miniature moose, snowshoes, and pine cones. He’d liked it so much, he’d actually purchased it—and everything else—from the designer. “We’ve literally decked the halls.” He described the garlands and lights. “And all these old-fashioned lanterns that look like the real thing but use batteries instead of flames.”
“I don’t know which is more impressive,” McKenzie said. “That Gunner Price was just there or that your house is already decorated for Christmas.”
“I know. This house has never looked more Christmassy.”
“Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“Because I’d hoped to surprise you guys at Christmas.”
“Bummer. Now I feel bad, West. I’m sorry we won’t be there to see it.”
“Yeah, yeah, well, those Arizona house swappers will probably appreciate it.” West grabbed his backpack on the landing then hurried down the massive wooden staircase. He would’ve slid on the handrail, but the hand-hewn logs were artistically wrapped with a realistic green garland, complete with twinkle lights and red plaid bows.
“I’m sure the house swappers will love everything there, West. It’s a beautiful home. But, on the same token, my boys are gonna love that amazing pool at the Arizona house. Did you see how big it is? It has a waterfall and a hot tub and—”
“Yeah, can’t wait to hit the hot tub in ninety-degree heat.” West picked up his duffel bag and gave his big lodge-style house one last look. The Christmas decor was so nicely done. Even the gigantic fake tree looked like the real deal. Palm trees couldn’t begin to compete. “Well, at least I can work on my tan down there in the sunny Southwest.”
“Now, that’s the spirit, bro. You better skedaddle if you’re going to meet us at the airport on time. The traffic is something else coming up from the Springs. I’m surprised you can’t hear Jeremy groaning.”
“I can imagine. But I’ll bet the traffic is mostly on its way into Colorado—not out.” West punched in the security code then stepped out the enormous hand-carved front door. “And they’re predicting a dump of fresh snow before Christmas Eve.” He stepped back to gaze at his home. His manager had encouraged him to buy it after the songs he’d created for Gunner Price’s album went platinum several years ago, and West had never regretted it. Although, as he hid the key in the designated spot, he did regret leaving it—and to strangers too.
“And while your house swappers are freezing their hind ends off on the slopes, we’ll all be poolside, soaking up sun and sipping on something cool and frosty.” She laughed. “It’ll be rough, but I think you can handle it.”
“Oh, sure, sis, as long as you’re happy.” His tone turned sarcastic as he crunched through the crusty snow. “You and dear old Drew.” He felt a tinge of guilt for knocking their stepdad. Especially since McKenzie liked him.
“Oh, West. That wasn’t nice.” She paused at the sound of kids’ voices. “Anyway, I gotta settle a dispute. The boys can’t agree on the video playing in the back seat at the moment. See you in Denver.”
As he unlocked his Jeep, West knew he’d have to apologize to his sister. She was probably feeling defensive of their stepdad by now. And it wasn’t that West didn’t like Drew. It was simply that he’d never gotten to know him very well. And now he resented how Drew had talked his mom into this whole last-minute house swap biz. West had only agreed because he thought his mom wanted it. He smacked the steering wheel and blew out an exasperated sigh. Why was he being so petty?
“Get over yourself,” he said aloud. “It’s Christmastime . . . and it’s your family . . . and it’s not worth sulking over.” For Mom’s sake—and McKenzie’s—he needed to get it together before arriving in Denver where they’d be waiting. Otherwise he’d wind up being the Grinch spoiling everyone’s Christmas. Time to straighten up and get into the Christmas spirit!
To assist with his holiday attitude adjustment, he started playing Gunner Price’s Christmas album off of iTunes. And it wasn’t just ego wanting to hear his own creations playing, because most of these were old Christmas classics. Only three had been written by TW Prescott—West’s professional name. He had to admit they weren’t bad, maybe they’d even be classics a hundred years from now. That’d be cool.
It was funny being a songwriter. Even if you were talented and successful—words that folks in the music industry used to describe West—you could still slip right under everyone’s celebrity radar. And that came in pretty handy. Sometimes he’d be with Gunner and suddenly the fans were mobbing him. But West could just slip away because no one recognized him. And he liked that. At one time, when he was still young and naive and a little too full of himself, West had aspired to perform his own music in front of packed stadiums. Now he felt grateful—for the most part—to simply be the creative guy behind the scenes. Oh, he still played and sang for family and friends sometimes, but the limelight had lost its allure.
After an hour behind the wheel singing along to Christmas tunes, he was feeling pretty Christmassy—until he hit the Denver traffic. Suddenly, all good will toward men seemed to melt like the brown slush alongside the jam-packed multilane freeway. If this kept up, he might actually miss his flight. He chuckled. Maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. Except that his mom and sis would be disappointed, and he didn’t want that. He needed to pick it up.
Navigating his Jeep through bumper-to-bumper traffic, West remembered the years following his dad’s death—the way he and Mom and McKenzie became the three musketeers, banding together to squeak by on Mom’s meager wages as a hotel manager. Their little Christmases had never been fancy, but they stood out in memory as the sweetest ones ever. And they’d always made a point to be together at Christmas. But in Arizona . . . it wouldn’t be easy.
By the time he’d parked and was riding the shuttle to the terminal, West realized he’d made a huge mistake. Not in swapping his house for Christmas, although that was a doozy. But in his rush to get out of Breckenridge on time, and distracted by McKenzie’s disturbing last-minute phone call, he’d left his leather case of music at home. And not in his studio—where it would be relatively safe—but right out on the dining room table. In plain sight. He’d meant to grab it before heading out—then totally forgot!
He considered the options. The housekeeper, who’d nearly been finished before he left, would be long gone by now. He could call a neighbor and ask them to go by and pick up the case and have it sent to him—except that the Arizona house-swapping family was due to arrive this afternoon. For all he knew, they could be there by now. He wasn’t exactly worried they would snoop in his private things, most of which he’d stashed in a locked closet, but he needed those music sheets with him.
He had several songs in development right now. Ones that he’d promised to finish and deliver shortly after Christmas. His manager’s warning to quit putting songs down on paper but trust a computer instead rang through his mind. But West liked doing it the old-fashioned way.
As he hopped off the shuttle, he dug out his phone, hitting speed dial for Mom. “Where are you?” she asked with concern. “You should be here by now, West.”
“I am here,” he said quickly.
“Good. Then hurry to the gate. McKenzie and Jeremy and the boys just got here. And it looks like they’re getting ready to announce board—”
“I’m not even through security, Mom, but—”
“What on earth? How can you—”
“I got stuck in traffic, but it’s worse than that.” He quickly explained his dilemma. “I’ve got to go home and get my music. You know how important that is.”
“Yes, of course. You must get it.” She sounded disappointed.
“You guys go ahead and board your flight. I’ll catch a red-eye tonight. Or tomorrow if they’re booked. Or I’ll fly standby. Or something.”
“Oh, West, you’ve got to make it down there.” She lowered her voice. “It’s already disappointing not to be spending Christmas at your house in Breckenridge. McKenzie just told me about how you got it all decorated so nicely. But if you’re not in Arizona with us—well, it just won’t be Christmas.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll get down there somehow. Planes, trains, or automobiles.” He tried to sound nonchalant as he got back in line for the shuttle. “I might not be thrilled about Christmas with no snow, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you and McKenzie and everyone. I’ll be there.”
“I know you will. Just let me know your plans and when you’ll arrive.”
He boarded the shuttle and promised to keep her informed. As the bus chugged back to the parking lots, West got on his phone to set up a new flight and was immediately put on hold. The music was obnoxious, but he slipped in his earbud just the same. He would leave it on hold for as long as it took. Setting his personal feelings aside, he knew that somehow he had to make it down to Arizona for Christmas.