Dancing in Lake Mistletoe (Lake Mistletoe #4)

Chapter Eight

Dutch

I wipe the sweat from my forehead, even though the air in Keller’s garage is frigid. It’s barely above freezing outside, but between the space heater whirring in the corner and the mess of tools we’ve scattered around, I’m working up a sweat.

“Hold that still for a sec,” I mutter, glancing up at Keller and Bran.

They grip the edge of the metal stand with both hands. The stand is massive—heavy-duty steel with reinforced bearings—because, well, the Christmas tree it’s meant to hold is massive. Lake Mistletoe’s town square Christmas tree isn’t your average holiday fir. It’s a thirty-foot-high behemoth, and apparently, a stationary tree isn’t festive enough.

“Are you sure this thing is gonna work?” Bran asks.

I laugh, tightening the last bolt with a wrench. “It’ll work. I designed it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well, you also designed that drone last summer that crashed into old Mrs. Katz’s roof.”

“Pilot error,” I correct him, grinning. “Not my fault.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue. Bran’s known me long enough to trust me when it comes to this stuff. We’ve been friends since high school, back when I was the kid who could rig up a working radio from scrap metal and a couple of AA batteries. He was the one who always had some crazy project in mind, and somehow, I always ended up being roped into making it happen.

Like now.

Keller’s staring down at the contraption we’ve built—a rotating platform designed to slowly spin the giant Christmas tree at the center of town. The mechanics are simple enough—a motorized base with bearings that will allow the tree to rotate smoothly—but I’ve had to account for the weight, the weather, and of course, the safety of hundreds of townsfolk wandering around during the annual lighting ceremony.

He and Bran are the artistic ones. So, they’re designing the ornate wooden cover that will encapsulate the contraption. It’ll be a beautiful oak with snowflakes and holly branches carved in its sides.

I even included a speaker system, so soft instrumental carols will play as the tree rotates.

“All right,” I say, wiping my greasy hands on a rag and standing up straight. “Let’s test it.”

Keller steps back as I connect the last few wires to the small control box. It’s nothing fancy, just a prototype to see if the motor can handle the load and the rotation speed is steady.

“You want the honors?” I ask, holding out the remote.

Keller shakes his head. “Nah, this is your baby. You do it.”

I grin. Moments like this—the first test of something I’ve built—always give me a rush. Doesn’t matter if it’s a drone, a tree stand, or a complicated circuit board at work. It’s that anticipation, not knowing if all the hours of planning, designing, and troubleshooting will pay off or blow up in my face.

“Here goes nothing,” I say, pressing the button.

There’s a low hum as the motor kicks on. The platform shudders for a second, then begins to turn—slowly at first, but it’s steady. The bearings hold, and the steel base rotates smoothly in place with no hiccups and no groaning.

Bran lets out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Told you it’d work.”

We watch as the platform makes a full rotation, the hum of the motor barely audible over the soft sound of “Away in a Manger” coming from the speakers. I keep an eye on the speed, making sure it’s not going too fast. We don’t need the tree spinning like a top and going airborne—just an easy, graceful turn.

“Looks like it’s a success,” I say, flipping the switch to stop the rotation.

The platform slows to a halt, resting exactly where it started.

Keller claps me on the back, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Good job, Dutch. Now, the fun begins. Bran’s already started carving the decoration into the wood.”

I turn off the motor, and we walk over to the desk, where the blueprints are located. If it turns out as planned, this thing is going to be a showstopper for years to come.

“Think the town’s gonna like it?” Keller asks.

“Like it? They’re gonna love it. You know how Lake Mistletoe gets about their Christmas tree.”

The town takes its holiday traditions seriously. Every year, the lighting ceremony draws the entire town to the square, plus hundreds of visitors and families from neighboring towns, just to see the tree. It’s been the same routine for decades—the mayor makes a speech, a choir sings carols, and then they flip the switch to light the tree. This year though, the rotating stand will add something extra—something people haven’t seen before.

I look down at the paperwork. “So, what’s the next step?”

“Once Bran is done carving, we’ll give it another good sanding, and then it’ll be stained. We’ll let it cure for forty-eight hours and then give it another coat before we apply the sealant and top coat.”

“Then, we assemble this beast,” I say.

“Yep, that’ll be the hard part,” he says. “That, and breaking it down and hauling it to town square.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be back a few times to reinforce the motor housing and make sure the wiring’s weatherproof. The last thing we need is for this thing to short out in the middle of the ceremony.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want the tree to stop spinning while the mayor’s giving his speech,” Bran mutters.

“Or worse, have it fall over,” I say, grimacing at the thought. “But don’t worry; I’ll double-check everything.”

Keller grins, clearly amused as he claps me on the back. “You’re a hero, Dutch.”

“Just doing my part for holiday cheer,” I reply with a smirk.

We spend the next hour going over the rest of the setup—making sure the base is secure, testing the motor’s endurance, and fine-tuning the control panel. By the time we’re done, the garage is littered with tools and empty coffee cups.

As I pack up my tools, I glance at Keller. “Y’all ready for the festival tonight?”

He smirks. “As ready as we can be. Dad and I have been sawing cedar for days.”

The town’s fall festival doesn’t come close to the Christmas festivities, but Willa has made it her mission to make Lake Mistletoe a place that draws visitors year-round.

This year’s Pumpkin Piddle Paddle is something Josie has been going on about for weeks. Everyone gets to carve a soccer ball–sized pumpkin that will float out into the lake.

“We’d better get out of here and get some rest. It’s going to be a long night,” I say.

“Yeah, it’s little man’s first time dressing up,” Keller says.

I laugh. “You just wait. I swear Josie needs a secretary of her own. She’s not even eight yet, and her social calendar rivals mine. Scratch that. She has a social calendar, and I have a work calendar. The end.”

Keller glances up at me. “Whose fault is that?”

“Life’s?”

He shakes his head. “I saw the way you were looking at a certain ballerina the other night.”

“I wasn’t looking at her any kinda way.”

“Bullshit. I could see it from the truck when I pulled up,” Bran adds. “She’s a pretty one.”

“She’s a visitor,” I say.

“Yeah, but she’ll be here for a couple of months,” Bran points out.

I give him a look that says, Exactly.

He smirks. “Take it from me. You never know what will happen. Sometimes, fate brings something special right to your door and hits you upside the head with it.”

“In your case, literally,” Keller agrees.

We laugh. The story of how Hannah and Bran met is one for the ages. She literally hurled a lamp through a window and knocked him out.

Bran nods. “Yep, and as I recall, Hannah was just visiting as well. But she couldn’t resist all this.” He stands and flexes for us.

I roll my eyes. “She probably felt sorry for your ass.”

He shrugs. “Whatever. It still worked, and I have a ring in my desk drawer to prove it.”

“A ring, huh?”

“Yep. I’m planning to give it to her on Christmas Eve,” he says.

“Congratulations,” I say, clasping his shoulder.

“I’m a lucky man for sure. And you never know; that Lake Mistletoe magic could work for you too.”