The Santa Suit (Holiday Homecoming #4)

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Abby!” Andy exclaimed. “You weren’t ‘sposed to tell that we hired a detective!”

  “I know,” she said with a long-suffering roll of her eyes. “But I did it anyway.”

  Katherine cut her gaze from her daughter’s stubborn expression to Andy’s earnest face to Gabe’s not-so-serious nonsmile. “You hired Mr. Housley to be your detective?” she asked, keeping a suspicious eye on the detective in question.

  Andy nodded gravely. “We had to, Mom. We needed a real Jack Kass.”

  Katherine blinked. “You need a donkey?”

  “No, Mom.” Andy corrected her with an excessively patient sigh. “Not a donkey. A detective. You know, a Jack Kass.”

  The somber descent of Gabe’s brow couldn’t begin to disguise his immense enjoyment of the misunderstanding. “Yes,” he said in a deeply serious tone. “Apparently, I came highly recommended.”

  That, she could believe. Katherine gave up on restraining the twins, and knelt to their level. “I don’t know where you heard the term jackass, but—”

  “You said it, Mom.” Abby was happy to provide the information. “Andy heard you tell somebody that you pay the Jack Kass to find people. Isn’t that what detectives do?”

  “Yes, but…” She searched for the right way to say this, conscious that Gabe had stooped down to listen in on her explanation. “A detective is a… person, and a jackass is a…donkey.”

  “A hee-haw donkey?” Abby asked, obviously confused.

  Andy’s reddish-blond eyebrows scrunched together with a sincere effort to understand. “But… how come you said Gabe was a donkey?”

  Two pair of bright blue eyes stared into hers. A pair of brown eyes looked on with considerable interest Katherine cleared her throat and managed a patently false chuckle. “You misunderstood, sweetheart. I’m sure that isn’t what I said.”

  “Yes, it is,” Andy assured her. “It is what you said. I heard you.”

  “He did, Mom.” Abby, for once, sided with her brother. “And you always tell the truth, so Gabe must be a donkey and a Jack Kass, just like you said.”

  Katherine met Gabe’s look of inquisitive amusement with a sinking heart, then turned to the only other person in the room who might know what it was like to be a mother, and therefore lend her support. “Children,” she said to Louisa, in a pitifully embarrassing attempt to shift some of the blame. “They sometimes get words all mixed up, don’t they? Who knows where they hear these things.”

  “Little pitchers have big ears” was Louisa’s dry and unsympathetic comment. She rapped the papers against the desktop and patted them into precise order as she marched to the door. “And big pitchers have big mouths,” she said in leaving.

  “Hmm…” Gabe said. “An astute observation.”

  “She doesn’t mean you have a big mouth, Mom,” Andy explained, as seriously as if he were interpreting at the United Nations. “And she doesn’t mean me and Abby have big ears. She means you’re a good talker and me and Abby are good list’ners and that’s how come we found out all about detectives bein’ donkeys and Jack Kasses.” He gave her a heartwarming gap-toothed grin. “We learned it all from you, Mom.”

  Gabe remained stooped, his knees not an inch from hers, his expression seriously amused, his body as solidly balanced as hers was unsteady, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “I commend you, Kate, for instructing your children in the finer distinctions of the English language.”

  “My name is Katherine,” she corrected coolly. “A distinction surely even a…detective can understand.” Her legs were trembling with protest at her crouched position, but she’d rather hobble around at waist height for the rest of her life than let him think his nearness unnerved her.

  “You know, Katherine,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in pensive delight, “I have this feeling you don’t like me much, but I can’t figure out why. Were we lovers in a past life, maybe?”

  Lovers! Ha! She straightened as if she had springs attached to her feet. “That, certainly, would explain why I might dislike you, but as it happens, Mr. Housley, until ten minutes ago, when I walked in here, I didn’t know you well enough to either like or dislike you.”

  “And now?” He straightened slowly, holding her gaze as he did so…which irritated her for a bunch of reasons, none of them coherent. “Have you come to a conclusion?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He stepped nearer, coming a little too close for her comfort. “And that is…?”

  Her legs tingled after being cramped so long, but she’d stand still if it killed her. “My conclusion, Mr. Housley…”

  “Please, call me Gabe,” he said, interrupting her. “Andy said it was okay.”

  “Andy doesn’t get a vote, Mr. Housley. As I was saying…” A sudden lack of background noise alerted her and Katherine glanced down at the twins, noting their uncharacteristic stillness and realizing that she was the focus of their concentrated attention. The little monkeys were probably absorbing every nuance of her body language and tone of voice so that they could repeat what she said and how she said it at a later—and inopportune—moment. “My conclusion is that I should take my children upstairs to my office and you should mind your own business.”

  “Ah, Kate, that presents a problem. You became my business, you see, when I agreed to take the twins’ case.”

  “What case?” Annoyance snapped and crackled in her voice. “They’re seven years old. They don’t need a detective. And even if they did, they can’t just walk into a security company and hire one!”

  “But we did, Mom.” Andy patted her arm comfortingly. “We hired Gabe to find Santa Claus.”

  Santa Claus! The fat old scoundrel was haunting her today. Katherine grabbed Andy’s hand and cast Gabe a black glance. “Well, Mr. Housley can’t find Santa Claus, because Santa Claus doesn’t exist. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  “But, Mom!” Abby took a position closer to Gabe than her mother. “We gave him all our cash! Five whole dollars!”

  Katherine’s gaze swung ruthlessly to Gabe. “You took their money?”

  He shrugged, without even the grace to look ashamed. “They didn’t bring their checkbook.”

  Pursing her lips, Katherine decided nothing but mischief could come of letting this Santa business continue any further. She was going to end it before Gabe gave the twins further encouragement and completely undermined her authority. “Taking lunch money from children makes you a bully, Mr. Housley, not a businessman.”

  Gabe frowned at Andy. “Was that your lunch money?”

  “Nope.” Andy shook his head. “Abby and me got ‘spelled, so we don’t need no lunch money.”

  “Spelled?” Gabe repeated.

  “Any money,” Katherine corrected automatically. “You don’t need any lunch money.”

  “That’s what I said.” Andy tugged his hand free. “You know, Gabe, ’spelled.”

  “We’re dink-quints,” Abby explained with a dramatic gesture. “We got kicked out of Saint Julian’s.”

  “You’re not delinquents.” Katherine began, although no one appeared to be listening to her. “And you didn’t get kicked out of school. You were given extra vacation days, that’s all.”

  “Yep,” Andy said. “We got kicked out of school ‘cause we didn’t believe in Santa Claus.”

  Katherine decided it was time to assume control of the conversation and her children. “Look, it doesn’t matter what the money was intended for,” she explained to the twins. “Mr. Housley took it under false pretenses, and he needs to return it.”

  Gabe crossed his arms at his chest. “I’m afraid I can’t. We’ve already signed the contract.”

  Abby nodded happily. “A secret contract.”

  “With invisible ink.” Andy added.

  “How convenient.” Katherine glared at Gabe, noting, despite her best intentions, that he had warm, wonderful eyes. The color of aged Scotch and rich with laughter.

  Except this was no laughing
matter.

  Gathering a twin’s hand in each of her own, she held her ground and her temper. “I think you’d better explain to Abby and Andy that you were only teasing,” she said stiffly. “Tell them you’re not a detective, this isn’t a detective agency, and that they did not hire you.”

  “I wish I could, Kate.”

  The nickname sounded appallingly intimate, and Katherine raised her brows in rebuttal.

  “I tried to talk them out of this idea,” he continued. “But they’re very determined youngsters, as I’m sure you’re aware. And, frankly, now that I’ve had a little time to observe you, I believe they’re right.”

  Katherine didn’t want to ask, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Right about what?”

  He looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. “That you missed your chance and now you’re too old to believe in Santa Claus.”

  “Old? I’m too old?” She pulled her shoulders back in a barely conscious defensive gesture. “That’s ridiculous.”

  He nodded. “That’s exactly what I said.”

  Realizing where this was headed, she made a belated correction. “I meant it’s ridiculous to be having this discussion. There is no such person as Santa Claus, and my age has nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” she snapped.

  “The twins and I disagree.”

  “You may, but they don’t.” She looked down at the upturned faces of her son and daughter. “Haven’t I always told you the truth?” she asked. “Haven’t I always been perfectly honest with you?”

  “Well, sure, Mom,” Andy acknowledged. “But Gabe believes in Santa. We asked him.”

  “And I’m sure he told you that Santa Claus is real.” She sighed. “I’ve explained this to you and Abby a dozen times. Adults sometimes say things because they think children can’t understand the truth. Mr. Housley was merely saying what he believed you wanted to hear.”

  “I did want to hear it, Mom. I really did.”

  “Andy. Just because we want something to be true doesn’t mean it is. You know that, don’t you?”

  Andy’s chin dropped onto his chest. Abby sniffled. And Katherine felt worse than awful…as if she were the one filling their heads with nonsense. Her chin rose with her anger, and she leveled both at the man before her. “Do you see what you’ve done?” she said irritably. “We’re leaving now, but in the future, I suggest you be more careful what you say to innocent children, or you may find yourself defending your ‘beliefs’ in a court of law.”

  Gabe stroked the pad of his thumb along his jawline and regarded her, still with amusement. “That sounded a little like a threat.”

  “An astute observation.” Turning, she moved the twins ahead of her and marched them toward the door.

  “Are you implying you’d sue me because I told your children that I believe in Santa Claus?”

  It sounded silly, put like that. But then, everything about Santa Claus was silly. “I wasn’t implying anything. I was stating a fact.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Keep your ideas and ideals away from my children, Mr. Housley, or you’ll discover just how serious I am.”

  He followed the three of them into the front office. The phone beeped with unanswered calls, but Wendy’s attention was firmly fixed on the procession that was heading for the door. Moving ahead, Gabe paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Let me be sure I understand you. Are you saying, you’ll hire a lawyer and file a legal action to stop me from saying I believe in Santa?”

  “No,” she said calmly, although her heart was pounding with irritation. “I’d hire a lawyer and file a legal action to keep you from polluting the minds of my children with lies.”

  He lowered his brows in a thoughtful frown. “You wouldn’t. File something as ridiculous as a Santa suit?” He shook his head, obviously having convinced himself. “You’d be laughed out of the courthouse. I can see you now, trying to explain to the judge exactly which one of us is Mr. Scrooge.”

  She raised her brows to contradict the lowering of his. “That would be Miss Scrooge to you. Now, if you’ll be so helpful as to open the door, my children and I will be out of your way.”

  He obliged with a flourish, and Katherine guided the twins through the doorway with the sure knowledge that she was making a narrow escape and the unsettling realization that he knew it, too.

  “Bye, Gabe.” Oblivious to the tension, Andy waved cheerfully with the hand Katherine didn’t have clamped in her own.

  “Bye, Gabe.” Abby waved, too. “See ya tomorrow.”

  Katherine guided them inside the cantankerous old elevator, which, for once, opened at the first touch of the call button. Pride turned her face front and kept her chin up as she met Gabe’s eyes across the width of the hallway. The slant of his lips unnerved her, and she felt she had to say something. “I expect you to return the money.”

  “Do you, Kate?” His voice evoked a sudden, troublesome memory of the kiss he didn’t remember and she hadn’t been able to forget. “I expect you’ll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.”

  “Tomorrow will bring colder temperatures and a chance of snow,” she said with a pleasantly confident smile. “Other than that, there’ll be no surprises.”

  “You underestimate me, Kate,” he called as the elevator doors creaked and began to close.

  She lifted her shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “Goodbye, Mr. Housley. Have yourself a very merry Christmas.”

  It was a fitting last word, she thought, feeling rather pleased with how she’d handled the situation and the man. But then, just as the doors rattled shut, Gabe began to sing, his lusty baritone sneaking inside the elevator like a pesky gnat.

  Katherine didn’t think fast enough to plug her ears before the twins picked up the tune, and their enthusiastic voices serenaded her all the way up with a particularly exuberant rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town!”

  Chapter Three

  The Knicks were playing basketball the way the game was meant to be played, maintaining their seven-point lead, basket by basket. Consequently the home fans showed their appreciation in a raucous, stomp-the-feet excitement that occasionally generated a wave of support. When the latest semichoreographed cheer rippled across the grandstand, Gabe followed his father to his feet in fluid homage, then sat again as the wave passed on.

  “Hell of a game, Junior!” Gun slapped Gabe on the knee and leaned forward to eagle-eye the fourth-quarter tip-off. “Remind me to buy a ticket next time.”

  “Why would you do that?” Gabe said dryly, as he watched the Knicks take control of the ball. “You always use my extra one, anyway.”

  “True, but if I got one of my own, I could bring a friend.”

  “Great idea, Dad. Exactly what I had in mind when I bought these two tickets. As a matter of fact, I had a friend all picked out to bring with me this evening.”

  “Friend. Humph.” Gun dismissed the plans he’d forced Gabe to change by showing up at the office in time to wangle a ticket…and a tuna sandwich…out of his only child. “That Marsha person may have bamboozled you into believing she’s crazy about basketball, but she doesn’t fool me for a minute. She wouldn’t know the difference between a rim shot and a ringtoss. And she’s too tall for you, Junior.”

  “Her name is Michelle, Dad. And she’s fiveeleven. I’m taller by a good three inches.”

  “Well, I’m not, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to marry some amazon I’d have to spend the rest of my life looking up to.”

  “I don’t want to marry her. I just want to take her to a basketball game.”

  “You’re well out of it, Junior. I’m telling you, Marsha doesn’t like basketball, no matter what she says.” Gun cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Hey, ref! If you had another eye, you’d be a Cyclops!” He threw his hands up in anguished sportsmanship. “Did you see that?” he asked the crowd in genera
l. “If that player’s elbow had been a wrecking ball, there’d be bodies all over the court! Come on, ref! Get a magnifying glass!”

  There was a brief altercation between the referee and the Knicks’ coach, which Gun encouraged with several pithy remarks, but when no one got kicked out of the game, he settled back with a sigh. “Louisa tells me you’ve agreed to do a little detective work for a couple of grade-school dropouts.”

  It was amazing, Gabe thought. Louisa didn’t look like the gossipy sort. Lord knew, she never told him anything. But Gun could be out of the office for days on end and still know everything that had gone on in his absence. It was part of his persona as The Detective. “Yes,” Gabe said. “I have Louisa to thank for that little practical joke. She says she didn’t, but I know she set up the whole thing. Locked me in my office with a couple of redheaded brats, and the next thing I knew, I was putting my John Henry on a secret contract with invisible ink.”

  Gun managed to look away from the action long enough to bestow a quizzical frown on him. “I thought you didn’t like kids.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like them, I just don’t know that I want one calling me Daddy, that’s all.”

  “Good thing for you I didn’t feel that way, huh?”

  “It’s harder raising children in this day and age,” Gabe said sagely. “There’s a lot more responsibility.”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. Everything’s more difficult for your generation.” Gun’s bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows angled into sarcastic upside-down vees. “Snap out of it, Junior. Many more sorry excuses like that and I’ll be forced to adopt a couple of grandkids to fill my lonely hours.”

  “Lonely hours, my a—”

  “Don’t be vulgar. You don’t want people to think you’re a jackass.”

  Gabe frowned. “Louisa told you that, too, I suppose.”

  “Don’t recall where I heard it.”

  “Mmm-hmm…” Gabe had heard that before…many times. If nothing else, Gun had a very convenient memory. “Why don’t you just tell me anything she left out, and I’ll fill in the blanks for you.”