When Santa Bought a Cottage

Now, I’ve been in real estate long enough to know every trick in the book—including colleagues who think prank-calling each other is a personality type.
But something—intuition? magic?—made me answer.

Ms. Richardson? The voice was deep, warm, and carried the unmistakable fatigue of someone who had just completed the world’s longest overnight delivery route.

My name is Kris Claus. I understand you’re the one to speak with about waterfront property in Muskoka.

I waited for the laugh track.

Instead, he continued with the earnestness of a man who has carried global logistics on his back for centuries.

We’ve decided it’s time to invest in ourselves. A retreat. Somewhere peaceful. No chimneys. No lists. No deadlines....and ideally with enough space for the team to decompress after the Big Night.

And just like that…
I became Santa’s realtor.

The Initial Consultation: A Masterclass in Unique Client Needs

We scheduled a video call.

The North Pole has exceptional WiFi. The elves built their own fibre network, obviously.
Mrs. Claus joined first—silver-streaked hair, reading glasses, and that calm authority that immediately tells you she’s the true CEO of Christmas.

Jay, she began, adjusting her glasses, we haven’t taken a proper vacation in over a century. Do you know what that does to a marriage? To morale? Last January Prancer tried to unionize. Santa shuffled into view behind her, looking sheepish.

The reindeer are exhausted. The elves are making passive-aggressive comments in the break room. I haven’t left the property since 1847, and we do not discuss that year.

I nodded. So you’re looking for a retreat? Something restorative?

And a smart investment, Santa added. I may be immortal, but I’m still financially responsible. You can’t make more waterfront.

A wise man indeed.

Santa’s Wishlist: Detailed, Thorough… and Very Santa

Most buyers know what they want. ... Santa had a checklist.

Privacy:We get recognized everywhere.
Big water: The reindeer need room to swim. Blitzen’s into triathlon training.
Guest accommodations: A dozen elves, minimum. Lots of natural light for vitamin D.
A hobby workshop: Not for the toy operation—strictly personal projects.
Absolutely no chimneys: Jay… the sight of a flue damper triggers me.
Four-season access: We’re not teleporting. The sleigh is only certified for December travel.
Bright exposure: I see enough North at home.
Authenticity: We want substance, not spectacle.

He had spreadsheets. Charts. Reconnaissance notes. Butter tart evaluations.
Santa, as it turns out, is extremely organized.

Narrowing the Search:

Why Lake of Bays Won Their Hearts

We began with a virtual tour of Muskoka’s major lakes.
Santa had already flown low reconnaissance missions in previous off-season years—strictly research, of course.

Lake Rosseau? Beautiful. But July yacht traffic would terrify the reindeer.

Lake Joseph? Stunning - but those property assessments made even Santa hesitate.

Lake Muskoka? Lovely - but a little too ...scene-y.

Then we pulled up Lake of Bays.

Mrs. Claus leaned forward.
It feels peaceful. Grounded. A lake where nobody cares who you are.
Exactly.

Lake of Bays has always been the thinking buyer’s lake—spectacular without showing off, refined without pretense. A lake where accomplished people come to breathe, not broadcast.

Santa nodded, satisfied.

It’s the Goldilocks lake, he said. Not too busy, not too remote. Just right.

Rudolph disagreed—he felt a carrot farm would be ideal—but was overruled.

The First Visit: Incognito… Or Their Version of It

When the Clauses came for in-person tours, they arrived incognito.
Santa shaved his beard. Mrs. Claus wore a toque pulled low. They travelled in a sensible hybrid SUV instead of the sleigh.
The elves, naturally, arrived in a convoy of well-organized minivans and immediately began taking measurements the moment we arrived at each property.

We toured a cottage with enough chimneys to trigger Santa’s fight-or-flight,  a property beside a winter carnival—“too much Christmas energy,” whispered Mrs. Claus, an overpriced A-frame whose owner insisted proximity to “Santa’s Bay” added 30% to value. I had to gently explain that real estate does not work on fairy dust.

And then… just off South Portage Road… we found it.

Finding the One

The perfect cottage.

• 700 feet of pristine shoreline
• A gentle granite slope into deep water
• A separate guest house ideal for elf accommodations
• A dream workshop for Santa and Mrs. Claus
• Zero chimneys
• A main cottage designed with morning light and Muskoka living in mind

Oh, Kris…Mrs. Claus whispered, stepping onto the dock. Can you imagine summer mornings here? Santa put his arm around her. I really can he said. 

Some moments don’t require a word. This was one of them.

Negotiating With Santa: A Delightful Surprise

Santa Claus—master negotiator.

I’ve been in the giving business for a millennium he said. I understand value—monetary, emotional, long-term return-on-joy value.

He slid his offer across the table. Fair. Respectful. Strategic.
Mrs. Claus, clearly the CFO of Christmas, nodded her approval.
Fortunately, the sellers accepted within 24 hours.

Closing Day: Let the Magic Begin

We closed in February. When I stopped in to say hello again in late spring the elves had already transformed the property:

• Solar panels on the workshop roof
• A dock extended into a “reindeer aquatic training centre
• Blitzen setting up lane markers
• Rudolph bobbing in the water like a red buoy

Mrs. Claus handed me a mug of cocoa.
Jay, this is exactly what we needed. I feel centuries younger. Santa added: Sparkle, senior elf, has taken up paddleboarding. Dancer is obsessed with sunset swims. Dasher hasn’t complained once.

This, I thought, is why I love this work.

A Year at the Lake: The Clauses Settle In

Their first summer unfolded exactly as they dreamed:

Mrs. Claus completed her sailing course; Santa spent mornings bass fishing on his boat christened  The Nice List;  The reindeer swam daily—Rudolph’s nose perfect for evening navigation; The elves discovered the Baysville Farmers’ Market and became loyal customers.

This was a wonderful investment Santa told me when I ran into him  at Robinson's General Store one August morning. His beard gloriously regrown.

Preparing for Their Return

On Boxing Day, while the rest of Muskoka slumbers, my team will tiptoe into action—preparing the Claus cottage for its very tired occupants. We set everything in place, then slip away without a sound, leaving the cottage warm and waiting for Santa, Mrs. Claus, the elves, and the reindeer.

•  Fresh bread from the Dwight Market
•  Local eggs, jams from Yummies in a Jar, butter tarts from Erika’s 
• Coffee from Muskoka Roastery
•  Absolutely no cookies—Santa insists
• Thermostats set to 22°C
• Lights glowing warmly