The Secret Santa Project

by Carol Ross

  “I tried! Early on, I dated more, thinking—hoping—that it would help me move on. But all I did was compare everyone to Cricket. I’ve never wanted anyone else. That’s how the list came to be. I thought it was better to spare someone from getting too attached and then allow them to suffer even a fraction of the heartbreak that I experienced.”

  “Oh, sweetie...” Iris said sympathetically. “I get all of that now.”

  Hazel firmly believed that she did. Iris and Flynn had their own rough history that had started with an unrequited high school crush on Iris’s part. Their story may have had a bumpy beginning, but they were making up for it with a beautiful middle.

  “I never could understand how you were so heartbroken over Derrick. Now that makes sense because you weren’t. But the stuff with Cricket does not compute.”

  “It doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t want to hurt me by telling me the truth?”

  “Sort of. If it were that simple, but the truth is...”

  “Is what?” Hazel prodded.

  “Something else,” Iris finished in a firm tone, pushing her plate away. “I need to think about this.”

  “Well, don’t waste too much brain power on it,” she bravely joked. “Because the truth doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Iris peered at her carefully. “What do you mean?”

  “Finally, I know what I want. I want to be over him, Iris. I told him I was. And no matter what it takes, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  * * *

  ON THEIR WAY out of the Cozy Caribou, Iris stopped at a nearby table to chat with a nurse she knew from the hospital, so Hazel hugged her goodbye and promised to stop in and visit Lily after work. Zippering her down jacket closed, she then flipped up the hood and stepped out onto the frost-covered sidewalk.

  Bering and Cricket had rented office space here in town, and since it was only a block away, she’d parked the pickup she’d borrowed from her dad there this morning and walked to the café. Since months often passed between her visits, it was fun to see how her tiny hometown changed during each absence. Typically, that was very little. She used to find this amusing and slightly unnerving, but now, passing the familiar storefronts felt strangely comforting. The addition of multicolored lights and decorations only added to the warm, fuzzy sensation.

  Nearing the end of the block, she could smell the delicious yeasty baked goodness that was the Donut Den. She’d traveled the world and had yet to find an equal to the bakery’s huckleberry scones. If she weren’t currently still stuffed from breakfast, she’d stop in and grab a few.

  Lights were on inside the office, but the door was locked. Bering had left her a key at her parents’ house, so she let herself inside and took a look around. The reception area consisted of two comfy-looking chairs, a small sofa and an ottoman. Behind a taller reception counter was the work area with three desks, two on one side of the room facing the other. They’d positioned a larger table in the back, around which four chairs were neatly arranged, presumably for meetings or appointments with clients. Nice.

  On the single desk, someone—Bering, she surmised from the look of the blocky, no-nonsense handwriting—had left a note card printed with her name. There was a laptop, a separate monitor and a docking station. Stacks of files and papers sat off to one side, all neatly labeled.

  She headed to the very back of the room, where a narrow table held a printer, coffee maker, mugs, condiments and assorted office supplies. A bathroom was off to the right, next to a supply closet. The doorway on the left led to a small kitchen.

  Back at her desk, she took a seat in her new cushy office chair. That’s when she saw the note, this one penned in Cricket’s neater, more traditional style.

  Hazel,

  Welcome home! We tried to make things comfortable for you, but if you need anything just let us know. We’ve left all the paperwork you need to get started. There are file folders on the computer desktop. (Bering says he told you about this and gave you passwords.) Bering has a meeting this morning, and I have a flight for Tag, but we’ll meet you here around noon to talk things over. Coffee in the silver tin on the back table.

  Happy to have you here,

  C

  PS: Bering says to text him if you have any important questions before then.

  Hazel reread that last line. Happy to have you here. Cricket wouldn’t write those words if he didn’t mean them. That was another thing about Cricket that she could count on. He might be a man of few words, but what he said, he meant. She could do this. And hopefully, they would soon be friends again. Confidence restored, she powered on the laptop, clicked around the desktop folders and got to work.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “SO, BEFORE WE get too far into the details here, we should probably talk about priorities.” Leaning forward, Hazel placed her forearms on the desk and laced her fingers together. “What tasks do you guys most want me to help you accomplish? Because there is more work to do here than I anticipated. More than I can get done in a few weeks...”

  She went on while Cricket and Bering sat across from her at their small conference table. Cricket listened to her assessment and battled his guilt about the speech she’d given him a few nights ago. She thought he wanted her here, assumed that he’d offered her the job because he believed they could be friends.

  Friends. That was what she wanted. A feat that should be easier since she was “over him.” She’d made a point of telling him so, hadn’t she? And he’d witnessed it. He’d seen her on a date—a special brand of torture that he hoped never to live through again. Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed reluctant about leaving the guy behind.

  He knew he should be relieved by her declaration. Wished he could say the same. Not that he didn’t want to be friends—he just wasn’t as optimistic that they could get there. At least not how they had been all those years ago. Because what they’d had was so much more than a friendship. Even though it hadn’t been physical, they’d shared a type of intimacy that only came with a much closer relationship. He’d never had that with anyone before or since.

  And he knew he could never be close with her like that again without wanting more. The best he could hope for was to get through this holiday season with a minimum of heartache. So he would pretend for her sake. They’d be fake friends. After all, it was only a few weeks. Then she’d leave again, taking with her that temptation of more.

  Bering scratched his chin and nodded. “We sort of knew that. Putting this together has been more time-consuming than we thought. Or maybe it’s that we haven’t had the time we thought we would. For a while there, Tag was short a pilot, so Cricket was flying every hour he could. I had a very good year with my guide business, which pulled me in for extra duties. Plus, we’ve had a series of unexpected complications. This most recent delay is on me. I don’t know if Cricket mentioned it to you, but a problem has come up with the federal concession program.”

  “He didn’t.”

  Bering’s guide business was granted permission for the use of certain federal lands by the government. Occasionally, rules changed or new regulations were implemented. Then there was the occasional objection to the program itself, which he was experiencing right now.

  “Unfortunately,” Bering said when he finished highlighting his latest quagmire, “I’m heading back to Washington, DC, next week. Hoping it will be resolved before the Christmas break.”

  Cricket said, “We’ve considered delaying another year, but we’ve got commitments and obligations that neither of us relishes breaking. Not to mention money invested.”

  “I understand,” she said. “And I don’t think you need to.”

  “What would you recommend?” Bering asked.

  “Instead of trying to get all these tours up and running, I would concentrate on fine-tuning three or four of them. Since you haven’t advertised any of the specifics yet, no one will even know that you�
��re scaling back. Call them your signature tours and make those your focus. This will also allow you to work out the kinks. If all goes well, then expand. Sort of like a soft opening.”

  “That sounds good,” Bering agreed. “But we could use your advice on which tours to finalize. That’s been part of our problem. We’re a bit all over the map right now.”

  “Good one,” Hazel said approvingly, grinning at his pun. She patted the stack of files before her. “I see that. And I have a proposal to make. I’d like to hire someone to help me. Especially since you’re going to be gone, Bering. And assuming the snow situation improves, Cricket, you’ll get busier, too.”

  This was true.

  “If I hire someone with knowledge and experience and we work together for a solid month, I’m confident we could have your signature tours ready, plus a step-by-step plan to implement the next phase.”

  “Yes from me,” Bering said. “What do you think, Cricket?”

  The hiring of another employee appealed to him, too. Especially with Bering back and forth to DC for who knew how long. And until the snowpack in the mountains improved, he’d have no excuse not to be here in the office. Another person would be a distraction, a barrier between himself and Hazel, making this friendship thing easier to obtain.

  “Sure,” he said, fully meeting her gaze for the first time. “Fantastic. Whoever you want to hire is fine with me.”

  “Excellent.” She looked extremely pleased by their answers, and that pleased Cricket. “I have the perfect person in mind.”

  Bering’s phone rang, and he checked the display. “Speaking of my issues, this is Senator Marsh.” He answered the call and moved into the kitchen to talk.

  Hazel’s gaze collided with Cricket’s, smile appreciative, eyes soft and warm. Maybe a few weeks of basking in some friendly Hazel-ness wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

  * * *

  “SECRET SANTA?” HANNAH repeated flatly. “Mom, you cannot be serious. You do realize that we are all adults now, right?”

  “I am quite serious, Hannah.” Hands on hips, Margaret frowned at her “middle” child. Technically, Hannah was number three, after Tag and Shay. But with Hannah’s arrival five years after Shay and with the triplets sharing the spot as youngest, the title seemed fitting.

  With Sunday brunch mostly concluded, they’d all retired to Ben and Margaret’s oversize great room with varying combinations of dessert, coffee or hot chocolate so Margaret could “make an announcement.”

  “That is precisely the point.” In her school-principal voice, she addressed the crowd again. “The Christmas spirit is not exclusive to children. And we adults are going to find ours. The level of Christmas enthusiasm, especially toward the gift exchange, has been a bit lackluster in the last few years. Everyone buying gift cards to get out of having to put any thought into it? Pathetic, if I’m being honest.”

  Hannah’s hand shot up. “Can we opt out?”

  “Hannah, really!” Margaret huffed.

  “Why do you do this with her?” Cricket whispered to Hannah from his spot beside her on the sofa. And then called loudly, “This sounds like a lot of fun, Margaret. I’m in!”

  “I agree!” Hazel exclaimed from where she sat in the rocking chair across the room. “I love this plan, Mom.”

  Tate, who’d been standing near the fireplace, tossed Cricket an encouraging glance and stepped over to his mother-in-law. Draping an arm around her shoulder, he then gave it a gentle squeeze. “Margaret, I am on board, too. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure your wayward child participates.”

  Margaret patted Tate’s hand. “Thank you, and you, too, Cricket and Hazel, for your enthusiasm. It’s nice to see that Christmas is alive and well in certain parts of this family.” She slid a disappointed frown in Hannah’s direction.

  “Whatever.” Hannah rolled her eyes and gave her head a little shake. To Cricket, she muttered, “I know what you guys are doing.” Louder, she declared, “Fine. I’ll play.”

  Cricket, Tate and Hazel exchanged grins because who could resist a little good-natured goading of the most competitive person in the family, and possibly the entire planet? Tate took a seat on the other side of Hannah.

  “No gift cards.” Margaret went on to outline the rules. “Unless it’s something extremely specific to the person. Remember, it’s not about money—it’s about thoughtfulness, giving while genuinely thinking of others. In other words, the true spirit of Christmas.”

  She paused to let that sink in. “Get creative, people! And I’d like to see at least one gift or deed delivered per week until Christmas. We’ll disclose our identities on Christmas Eve. No revealing who you have before then, either on purpose or by ‘accident.’” Here she paused to add air quotes and deliver a warning look to Hannah.

  “Stop looking at me like that! I will not cheat. I am not a cheater. In fact, you know what? I am going to win this whole thing.”

  “Um, sweetie.” Tate placed a hand on her knee. “You do know it’s not a competition, right?”

  “Maybe not to you!” she countered to a room full of laughter. Cricket didn’t doubt that Hannah would find a way to turn this into a contest and declare herself the victor.

  “That’s the spirit,” Margaret said approvingly. “Now, I’ve written the names of every adult on slips of paper and placed them in this stocking.” She held the sock aloft before handing it off to Iris, who was seated on a chair to her left. “We’re going to pass it around so everyone can draw a name. If you select your own or your spouse’s name, please put it back and draw another. You can also have one re-draw if, for some reason, you don’t want to buy for that person.”

  Across the room, Cricket watched Iris pass the stocking to Hazel. She reached inside. Poker-faced, she peeked at the slip before tucking it into her pocket. What would he do if he drew her name? The wisest course of action would be to use his pass. The last thing he needed was the added intimacy of buying her gifts, even if he would be awesome at it.

  By his count, he had roughly a 5 percent chance of drawing her name. Odds were against either of them getting the other. So, when the stocking made it around to him, he confidently reached inside, withdrew a slip of paper, read the name and barely managed to keep his features set to blank.

  “You okay with who you got there, big guy?” Hannah asked from beside him.

  Heart pounding, he stared at Margaret’s beautiful cursive rendering of Hazel scrawled across the glossy white paper. Stick with the plan and put the paper back inside. That’s what he told himself. Twice. But he couldn’t seem to move. Hazel. The name seemed to shimmer before his eyes. He remained motionless. Thinking.

  The truth was that he wanted to do this. He wanted to be her Secret Santa. By her own admission, all she wanted was to have a good Christmas, to sort a few things out. She deserved that much, especially when he feared he might be the cause of some of her angst.

  He held the power in his hand to give that to her, or at least to contribute significantly. No one knew her better than he did. He was already cataloging all the little gifts he wanted to buy for her, things to do for her. Possibilities that went back years. He could, he realized, finally do some of them. Including giving her the Christmas gift he’d already bought for her months ago that he feared might be too much. But that would be okay now, he told himself, because it was anonymous. By the time she found out that he was her Secret Santa, she’d be stuffing her backpack to leave again.

  Fate had just handed him an incredible opportunity.

  “Cricket?” Hannah’s voice startled him. “What’s the deal? You wanna swap yours?”

  No way anyone could pry the slip of paper from his fingers now. “Absolutely not,” he said. Leaning toward her, he passed the stocking, lowered his voice, and said, “Hate to break it to you, but I am going to be the winner.”

  “Oh, it is on!” Hannah cried and made a show of sh
oving her hand into the stocking and withdrawing a slip of paper.

  “Hey, everyone!” Hazel called from the doorway. “Can I have your attention for just a sec?”

  A few minutes ago, Cricket had noticed Hazel check her phone and then get up and disappear into the hallway. Now she was back with someone by her side. Angled away from the door, he couldn’t see who it was.

  A figure stepped farther into the room as she continued speaking. “I’d like you all to meet my friend Kai. He’s going to be here through the holidays. Kai, this is my family. We’re a pretty outgoing bunch, so I’ll let everyone introduce themselves...”

  She kept talking, but Cricket quit hearing. Likely due to the whooshing sound in his ears, followed by a pounding against the inside of his skull. Was this why she’d been so eager to take the job? Because she’d already planned on bringing the date home to meet her family?

  Stunned, Cricket tried to absorb this news. The drawing concluded, people milled about while he sipped his now-cold coffee and pretended to check his phone. That comment Kai had made about being ready “to relocate” to Alaska replayed in his mind. He’d dismissed it because Hazel hadn’t mentioned it, or him, since. She’d never brought a man home to meet her family, and the significance of that was obvious. As was the sharp stabbing pain in his heart. Iris had been right about the reason she’d turned her phone off, and this, this...date was further proof that she was moving on.

  Bering sat beside him. “Seems like a nice guy, huh?”

  “What?” Cricket asked, forcing himself to breathe and to focus on Bering’s question.

  “Kai. Hazel told me you met him in Utah and that she was sure you’d approve. Apparently, he majored in tourism and travel or some such thing. I didn’t even know you could do that. Those qualifications should make for a solid employee, though, that’s for sure.”