Page 30 of Christmas at Wolf Creek

The drive to Wolfcreek Ranch passes in tense silence. I watch the scenery change from small-townoutskirts to dense forest, eventually giving way to the sprawling property we now apparently co-own. It still feels surreal—this inheritance from a father I barely knew, a family assembled from scattered pieces of Tomas MacGallan’s complicated life.

“We’ve been busy while you were gone,” Kane says, breaking the silence as we turn onto the long drive leading to the main lodge. “The place looks different.”

That’s an understatement. As the lodge comes into view, I blink in surprise. The formerly austere building has been transformed with twinkling lights outlining every eave and window. Evergreen garlands wrap the porch columns, and what appears to be a life-sized nutcracker stands guard by the front door.

“Kat’s work?” I guess, unable to suppress a smile despite our mission.

“Kat’s vision, everyone else’s labor,” Kane confirms with a long-suffering sigh that doesn’t quite hide his affection. “Wait till you see inside. It’s like the North Pole exploded.”

We park beside several other vehicles—Ella’s SUV, Kori’s rental car, and what must be the ranch truck. As we climb out, I hear laughter floating from inside the lodge, a stark contrast to the tension we’ve carried with us from Toronto.

The front door flies open before we reach it, and Nora bursts out onto the porch, wearing what appears to be a homemade elf hat.

“Uncle Declan! Uncle Connor! Uncle Rory!” she shouts, launching herself down the steps toward us. “You’re back early! Now we can finish the tree!”

Declan catches her mid-leap, swinging her up into his arms with practiced ease. “Hello, troublemaker. Miss us?”

“So much!” she exclaims, beaming. “We saved the best ornaments for when you got back. And Mom made cookies shaped like stars, and Aunt Kat taught me how to make paper snowflakes, and—”

“Nora, let them at least get inside before you tell them everything,” Ella calls from the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her smile falters slightly when she catches sight of our expressions. “Is everything okay?”

“Just tired from the flight,” I interject smoothly, not wanting to alarm Nora. “Something smells amazing in there.”

“Gingerbread,” Nora informs us importantly as Declan sets her down. “For the people in our village. The houses are already at the bakery, but people need to live in them.”

“Makes perfect sense,” Rory agrees, following her inside. “Lead the way, Chief Elf.”

The interior of the lodge has undergone an even more dramatic transformation than the exterior. Garlands drape every available surface, twinkling lights frame doorways and windows, and elaboratewreaths hang on interior doors. The massive stone fireplace in the great room crackles with a welcoming blaze, stockings already hanging from the mantel—including, I notice with a pang, ones labeled with our names.

But the centerpiece is the enormous tree standing in the corner of the room, its branches still bare except for lights, boxes of ornaments scattered around its base.

“Surprise!” Kat exclaims, emerging from the kitchen with flour dusting her cheek. “We started to decorate the tree, but thought we’d wait to decorate the rest until you got. Family tradition and all that.”

“We don’t have family traditions,” I point out, though the gesture touches me.

“We do now,” she replies firmly. “And tree decorating is officially the first one. But first—” she points dramatically toward the kitchen, “—sustenance! Can’t decorate on an empty stomach.”

The others appear from various parts of the lodge—Kori with an armful of tinsel, Wren and Mia arguing good-naturedly about ornament placement strategy, Lana carrying a tray of mugs that smell of cinnamon and chocolate. The normalcy of the scene makes the reason for our hasty return feel almost dreamlike.

But then I catch Declan’s eye, and the reality of the threat crashes back. Someone knows where Ella is—someone who might wish her harm.

“Food, then tree, then we need to talk,” Declan says quietly to Kane, who nods almost imperceptibly.

We follow the group into the kitchen, where a feast of comfort food awaits—pasta bake, garlic bread, salad, and what appears to be several kinds of cookies cooling on racks.

“We’ve gone full domestic goddess in your absence,” Kat announces, gesturing proudly to the spread. “Turns out Lana’s a secret chef.”

“I just followed recipes,” Lana balks, though she looks pleased at the praise. “Mia did the cookies with Nora.”

“They’re masterpieces,” Nora declares, already piling her plate with pasta. “You have to try the ones with the little candy pieces.”

For the next hour, we maintain the façade of a normal family reunion. We eat, laugh at Kat’s dramatic retelling of the gingerbread village construction, and listen to Nora’s detailed account of the tree lighting ceremony. I watch Ella throughout, noting how her eyes constantly track Nora’s movements and how she always positions herself to have a clear view of the exits—the behavior of someone who’s lived too long with fear as a constant companion.

Finally, with dinner cleared away and evening settling over the mountains, we gather in the great room for the tree decorating. Nora takes charge immediately, assigning specific ornaments to eachperson with the seriousness of a general deploying troops.

“Uncle Connor, you get the glass icicles because you’re tall,” she instructs, handing me a box of delicate crystal ornaments. “They go near the top, so they catch the light.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply solemnly, accepting my mission.