“But it ain’t gonna fit six of ya.”

“Nope.”

“And that means two of y’all—”

“—are gonna have to hang back—”

“—while the others head out.”

I felt dizzy.

“Now, we can do a second sleigh ride—”

“—after the first.”

“If y’all want.”

“Just let us know.”

I lost track of which one was talking by that point. Fortunately, Grandma Jo kept her wits.

“One sleigh ride is enough. And it’s only right that our two guests be the ones to go,” she said, smiling at Aunt Esha and Arthur.

I was about to volunteer to stay back when Dr. Raymond interjected, “Skippy and Finley can go, too. Jo and I can always have our own sleigh ride another time.”

He smiled at my grandmother. His method of wooing clearly was to wear down the object of his affection through sheer persistence.

By looking at her, it might be kinda working. The wearing-down part, not the wooing. She looked resigned, though her nod was noncommittal.

Ten minutes later we were all piled in an EV SUV (those big boys were earning their progressive stripes) and making the puma-quiet ride up the trail to where they kept the reindeer.

They had their own barn, which looked newly constructed, complete with solar panels and an exterior group pen where the animals were gathered. Once the world’s quietest SUV was parked, I was stuck in the back row with Dad while we waited for everyone else to exit.

I watched Arthur go then turn around to offer his hand to his aunt, not that she needed help. It was clear by how he did it that the courtesy was something that had been ingrained in him. Brody had done that for me a few times, but that was when we were dating. For Arthur, it seemed . . . natural.

And why was I noticing this?

Dad and I exited last and we followed Arthur, Aunt Esha, Grandma Jo, Dr. Raymond, and the Moses twins across the cold, uneven, snowless ground until we reached the pens.

And there they were.

Reindeer.

It was surreal to finally see them after so much buildup. They were big, but not overwhelming. Four of them had antlers while three did not. When we entered the pen, a couple without the antlers made their way over to us with an air of expectation.

Drakk or Axe handed out small bags of reindeer feed to each of us as Axe or Drakk doled out some basic reindeer trivia, including the fact that “reindeer” were basically what North Americans called caribou, their noses were resplendent with veins, which meant they actually did have faintly red noses in the cold, and their milk had more fat than cow’s milk. They used that as a pitch for their reindeer cheese, available in the café. Arthur’s eyes lit up.

Aunt Esha peered into her bag of reindeer food. “No reindeer corn?”

I started to sweat.