“She’s up to something.” Michael spoke, gaining momentum with every word like a freight train. “She’s at your family’s house right now. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, and I don’t really know what’s going on, but I think it’s important you go home right now and check it out.”

Truth be told, Clark hated that old place. He’d tried to avoid staying there the night before, but every hotel or bed and breakfast he approached informed him, polite as could be, they had no vacancy, so he’d bitten the bullet and returned to the mansion’s creaking halls, choosing to sleep on a couch in the front living room to avoid diving too deep into the body of the house. He hadn’t been there since he was a kid, and the memories wrapped around him heavier than the musty old blanket he’d slept under.

“The Woodward House?”

“Yeah.”

He dreaded returning in the daylight, but he knew he had no choice. He didn’t know her plan, but he couldn’t let any harm come to the estate. The sham castle built on a hill still held the spirits of his family, and they required protection.

It was all he had left of his parents.

Collecting his coat, he tossed Michael the keys to his rental car, which he’d rescued from the tow yard this morning.

“Drive me there.”

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

“This all looks amazing! Can we move those candlesticks to the end of the hall? Oh, be careful with those ornaments! Just put the boxes down in the living room. We’ll decorate the tree later.”

Kate wasn’t one to toot her own horn, but even she had to admit it: the Woodward House looked amazing. It wasn’t all her doing, of course. She merely lugged a few boxes and used her copy of the house keys to let everyone inside. When she called Miss Carolyn to tell her of her plan, The Christmas Company phone tree went into full effect, and within an hour, most of the town’s decorations were torn down from their places off of the square and almost one hundred people showed up at the Woodward House to ready it for Christmas. Thankfully, this place wasn’t unfamiliar to the people of Miller’s Point. Mr. Woodward had let them use it as a muster point for the festival for years, so once inside, everyone had a good idea of which archways and bannisters needed the most Christmas-ification.