DJ Snowflake and Scrooge

December 4
8:45 am

You're waking up with WMHS 97.3. And if you're not awake, get your lazy *beep* up. You only have one chance to start the day right and you probably missed it.

Santana groaned and glanced down to the radio. She definitely did not start the day right. She had been following Mercedes's car for the past twenty minutes. They had driven straight through the heart of Midtown and turned onto a road Santana hadn't noticed when she had first arrived. It was a good thing she was following Mercedes this time instead of following her directions because it was way too early in the morning to repeat those shenanigans. After the initial greetings and hugs, Mercedes had offered Santana the couch for the night. But somehow she ended up spending the night in the same bed as Mercedes and her boyfriend. The next day, Mercedes insisted Santana take some time to relax and see the town.

A very short stroll around the block had been all Santana needed. She was greeted by at least a dozen different people with smiles and waves. Children ran up and down sidewalks to catch the bus and there were quite a few adults stringing lights over their shrubbery. This morning, instead of taking Mercedes's prescribed morning walk, Santana had demanded Mercedes reveal why she was so keen on having Santana come to town.

The radio cut into her concentration.

I'd say it's time for traffic, but there is none. Now a word from myself, because I'm the only sponsor worth getting a spot –

Santana didn't know if this woman was any better than DJ Snowflake, but at least she hadn't played a Rachel Berry song yet. In fact, Santana didn't know if this morning radio host had played any songs at all.

This has been another segment of Sue's Serious Doubt. As I seriously doubt any of you really care about the local sports teams, but here's a rundown of the latest disappointments, failures, and disgraced coaches.

Honestly, anything was better than DJ Snowflake. Mercedes's boyfriend, Sigmund or Sara or Simon or whatever his name was, had insisted that he couldn't sleep at night without something playing. Santana didn't know what was worse between the non-stop Christmas music or DJ Snowflake's never ending commentary on the history of elf fashion. Needless to say, Santana was grateful to hear any voice that didn't belong to DJ Snowflake.

Santana glanced to the clock in the rental car again.

8:53

She needed coffee.

Mercedes turned left at a sign.

Hummel's Bed and Breakfast

Something about the sign or the name seemed familiar, but Santana couldn't quite place it. Without coffee, Santana really didn't care. She parked her rental car next to Mercedes's SUV and threw her best friend a skeptical glance. The bed and breakfast had windows with scroll work, ivy that had been attached to the walls for decades, and the type of charm Santana usually avoided.

"Now before we go in." Mercedes hooked her arm into Santana's to slow down the other woman's determined march to the door. "Please remember this is my friend Kurt's business, and if you don't want to do me the favor of helping him, just say so and it will be totally fine. He and his father, Burt, know you are doing this as a favor so they aren't expecting anything. You're kinda their last desperate chance at keeping their Bed and Breakfast going. So try and be nice?"

"Be nice?" Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm always nice. But are they seriously named Kurt and Burt?"

Mercedes tilted her head back and sucked on her bottom lip as if praying for divine intervention to grant Santana an ounce of extra patience for the next hours. She muttered under her breath. "Of all the things I just said. That's what you're concerned about?"

Santana continued with a nonchalant shrug. "What? They sound like they could be muppets. You still haven't told me why you deprived me of coffee and took me out into the middle of – nowhere. If you wanted some alone time, you could have asked. You didn't have to bring me out to a bed and breakfast."

"Santana, only your ego would make you think I wanted anymore special alone time with you. I had enough of that when we shared a room for three years at university. Look –" Mercedes pulled Santana back so they could talk candidly before entering Hummel's Bed and Breakfast. "- Kurt has been my friend forever and their family has owned this Bed and Breakfast back before there was even a town, but since the new freeway was put in, hardly any traffic comes this way. The whole town has been suffering."

Santana ducked her head just a little when she realized Mercedes was earnestly asking for help. "And I can help how?"

"Ever since the new mayor was elected, he's been pressuring all of us working at the town hall to find ways to boost tourism. It hasn't been easy – there is almost nothing to draw anyone this far off the grid when we aren't even a location on their GPS or findable on google maps." Mercedes touched the very old door handle of the Bed and Breakfast. It was old cast iron and Santana imagined it was one of a kind. "The only thing we have to offer is a bit of history."

History.

And now it was starting to make sense.

"Kurt mentioned that Hummel's had been around forever and you mentioned that you needed something to do this winter with your paid time off while renovations were being done at your archives."

Santana puffed out her cheeks in exasperation. She had been nearly frantic when her boss said they were going to shut down the archives to work on the ventilation system during December. Her co-workers had families and vacations they planned to take over the interim. But she had intended to work through December.

Mercedes had to listen to Santana moan over the phone during Thanksgiving and then through the weekend about how she had nowhere to work for the next few weeks.

"You get some old musty documents to sort through and the vacation your boss wanted you to take all at the same time."

Santana scrunched her nose against the cold air in thought, but she couldn't find one reason this wasn't the perfect arrangement. Mercedes must have read her mind because she flashed Santana a self-satisfied smirk before opening the door.

Candles, wood, and the smell of cloves escaped the old door. Instant warmth and comfort wrapped around her body and instantly dispelled the lingering cold air from standing outside for so long.

"Mercedes!" A big voice from the inside boomed out. An older man came through the foyer with his arms outstretched for a big hug. Santana kept back and took in the bed and breakfast. It looked like it had been converted from an old inn. All the furniture was made of sturdy wood and polished. Stings of snowflakes roped through the banister of the stairs. There was a small greeting area with a sign-in book for guests. It was a place Santana thought only existed in the movies. The bald headed man continued embracing Mercedes and asking her questions. "How are you? How's the family?" Until he finally noticed the woman Mercedes had brought with her. "Is this your friend? I didn't expect you so soon!"

He released Mercedes. Santana held out her hand, but found herself locked in a bear hug similar to the one he had just given Mercedes. "Welcome to Hummel's Bed and Breakfast!"

Santana pulled back and half-glanced to Mercedes. "Thanks."

"My boy is going to be so excited. It's been a few weeks since we had a guest and he's been preparing your room since Mercedes mentioned that you could be coming."

"My room?" Santana asked.

"Yes! We've set you up with the master suite and it just so happens to be the room with the most history in it." Burt wiggled his brows and pulled back to search for Kurt.

Santana glanced to Mercedes and mouthed what?

Her best friend shrugged. "Did you really think I was going to share my bed with Sam and you for a week?"

Sam! That was his name.

"No." Santana rolled her eyes. "I thought you were going to kick him out and make him sleep on the couch."

Mercedes chose not to respond to Santana's suggestion for sleeping arrangements. "Actually, Burt offered to put you up for as long as you wanted. I know how you like to pretend you're one of those moody lesbian vampires that only functions at night so I thought this would be perfect."

"It was the least we could do." Burt took a step on the landing. "Kurt!" He shouted up, but another door opened in the parlor to a bright smiling young man. He greeted Mercedes in the same manner as his dad, but instead of giving Santana a big hug, he stood back a step as if to assess her.

"So you're the infamous Santana I've heard so much about from Mercedes."

"I am-" Santana proudly lifted her head to meet his rather obvious assessment of her character. It was the first time someone in this town hadn't greeted her with open arms and a Christmas greeting. "

"From everything I've heard about you, I wasn't sure if you were even real or just one long fictitious story Mercedes had made up about her university days." Kurt eyed her up and down. "Still not sure."

"Behave." Mercedes jokingly warned.

Burt threw him a set of keys from behind the desk. Kurt clapped his hands excitedly. "Always! I was just saying I never in a million years thought you would ever show! Good thing I just made up the master suite. You can follow me up."

Santana hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. One friendly shove from Mercedes sent her following Kurt up the stairs.

"You can back out now."

"Back out? They have a room for me and this place is deserted. I can set up an office and have some time to myself. I'm sure I can find something significant to help fill out whatever bullshit paperwork the state requires." Santana glanced around. "And then I can work on my own projects."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. How bad could it be?"

"You missed breakfast, but we'll be serving lunch in the parlor at 12:30."

"Sounds good." Santana answered Kurt before continuing to whisper to Mercedes. "And there's food. How bad could this be?" She repeated the question as if convincing herself that this set-up wasn't too good to be true. She turned back to their guide. "So, Kurt, there has to be a lot of old buildings in this area. What makes this place so special?"

Kurt stopped walking. They were at the end of the long hallway and inserted a worn gold key into the lock. He smiled as he turned the key and pushed open the door. It was a large room with heavy wooden furniture, deep colored décor, and a strange sense of importance. There was an antique record player next to a floral sofa and an old radio next to the bed. Santana stepped into the room. Portraits hung around the room and above the mantle. Every portrait had been painted by a different hand, but the subject never changed.

"The master suite, your room is dedicated to the most famous person to ever come from Midtown. Even after she moved to the big city in the 50s, she used to rent a room here during the winter. So we just started collecting things and adding it to honor her legacy. She's an inspiration for anyone trying to make it big from a small town." Kurt's voice filled with admiration for the singer. Santana's eyes widened. "And we're hoping she's the connection you can make to put Hummel's on the map. A little destination tour for the weekend for all of her fans particularly during the Christmas season."

Santana's mouth dropped. She wasn't sure if from shock or horror. Clearly delighted by Santana's expression, he lifted his hands with gusto and pronounced.

"Welcome to the Rachel Barbra Berry Room."