“What ...? How ...?”
Her sister immediately came to her aid.
“Christine Pratt,” she accused in a teasing voice, “are you the person responsible for recruiting our second Santa?”
“A second Santa?” Chris was still too surprised to be able to figure out what was going on. “All I did was ask Andy to dress up as Santa Claus and show up at the party tonight. It was supposed to be a surprise for everyone— including you!”
“Oh, I was surprised, all right!” Susan replied with a chuckle. “Especially since I had arranged for Grandpa to come to our celebration dressed as Santa!”
Just then Danny came over to the girls with a few of his friends in tow.
“Susan,” he asked shyly, “this is a really nice Christmas party that you girls put together for us kids and all, and we really do appreciate it ... but how come there are two Santa Clauses here?”
Susan and Chris just looked at each other, totally at a loss for an explanation.
Fortunately, Brian happened to overhear Danny, and he rushed to the girls’ aid.
“You mean you didn’t know, Danny?” he said with surprise. “There are not one but two Santas living in the North Pole and bringing presents to children all around the world. You see, Santa Claus has a twin—just like Chris and Susan here. Otherwise, he could never accomplish all the things he does at Christmastime. Why, how could anybody expect just one person to make all those toys and deliver them, not to mention managing the elves and taking care of the reindeer....”
“Really?” Danny asked, not sure if he believed Brian but wanting to very badly. “You mean there really is a Santa Claus—and he’s twins? Wow!” And he rushed off to tell the rest of his friends.
“So we’ve got two Santas instead of just one,” Brian said with a chuckle.
The look on his face, however, told Chris that he was much more interested in hearing about whether or not the Candy Cane Caper had succeeded than discussing Santa Claus’s longtime secret.
“Well, well, well, this is certainly a night of double trouble,” Chris said with a huge smile. “Two twins, two Santas ... and two computer disks, one with the budget that Mr. Stone submitted to the board, and one that showed what expenses really were—and how much he was able to keep for himself.”
“You’re kidding!” Susan squealed. “You mean you actually managed to find proof that Mr. Stone ....”
“Careful, here he comes,” Brian warned.
“Mr. Stone!” Chris cried boldly. “Are you having a nice time at our party?”
He looked puzzled. “Why, Chris, I just told you that I was....” All of a sudden his expression changed as he realized what had been going on—and that he had been fooled.
“Why, you ... Where were you for the last hour?” he demanded.
“I’ve been right here, of course,” Chris answered, looking innocent. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave now. Susan, can you and the two Santas handle things here for the rest of the evening?”
Susan, wearing a knowing smile, nodded.
“Good. Then, Brian, would you do me a favor?”
“Sure, Chris. Anything.”
“Great. How about driving me over to the house of the president of the hospital board right now? I have a little tidbit of information that I’d like to share....”
“You’re on!” Brian grinned. “After all, aren’t we all trying our best to make this Christmas as merry as possible for everyone here at the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital?”
Mr. Stone’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you kids talking about?”
“Oh, nothing,” Chris replied loftily. “Or should I say, you’ll find out soon enough, Mr. Stone.”
As she and Brian headed for the door, one of the nurses came rushing over to her.
“Chris, all of us here at the hospital really appreciate what you’ve done for the kids—and the rest of us, too. What a wonderful Christmas present!”
“This is nothing,” Chris called over her shoulder as she and Brian strode out together. “Just wait until you find out about the real Christmas present we’ve got in store for all of you!”
Chapter Thirteen
“Right now,” said Susan with a long, contented sigh, “I feel as if I’m sitting in the middle of a Christmas card!”
“I know exactly what you mean,” her twin agreed amiably. “A Christmas card just like the very first one we received this holiday season, the one with the snow scene on it. Only this card shows what’s going on inside all those snow-covered houses!”
It was late Christmas Eve, just before midnight, and Chris and Susan were lounging in front of the fireplace in their grandparents’ living room, sipping hot chocolate. Four stockings had been hung on the mantel earlier that evening, and they were already filled to bursting—with a big, colorful candy cane peeking out of each one. Underneath the tree were stacks of gaily wrapped presents, their bright ribbons reflecting the red and green and gold lights strung throughout the branches. Outside, fat white snowflakes were falling gently, completing the perfect Christmas scene.
But even more important than all the outward signs of Christmas was the way the twins were feeling. What a busy week it had been! First the bazaar, then the Christmas party for the children over at the hospital, finally the Candy Cane Caper.
And they couldn’t help being satisfied with all three of their accomplishments. Now that the president of the Ridgewood Children’s Hospital’s board of directors knew about the two different budgets that Chris had found in the director’s briefcase, there was no doubt that Mr. Stone would be fired and charged with the crime of embezzling. And since the costs of running the hospital would, indeed, be lower now, it wouldn’t have to close after all. As Brian had pointed out earlier in the week, that was good news for both the children in that area of Vermont and the adult residents of Ridgewood and all its neighboring towns,
“Well, girls,” said Emily Pratt, “it’s just too bad that you girls didn’t have much of a vacation, with all the running around you did for the bazaar and the party and all. You were so busy all week that you hardly had a chance to enjoy yourselves!”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Susan replied heartily. “Chris and I had fun planning and organizing ... and sleuthing, of course. As a matter of fact, we ended up having at least as much fun as we would have had if we’d spent the whole week skiing and skating and building snowmen!”
“And tomorrow it’s Christmas Day already,” Chris observed. “Now that you mention it, I am looking forward to a day of rest.”
“And having a big dinner, with Danny coming over to be our special guest ...”
“And opening our presents, too!” Chris added teasingly, gesturing toward the enticing pile of gifts already sitting underneath the Christmas tree. “Don’t forget about that part of the holiday!”
She grew serious then. “Gee, this week did go by quickly, didn’t it? Just think, Monday morning we’ll have to go back to Whittington. Of course, it’ll be great to see Mom and Dad again when they come home from Mexico on Monday night....”
Just then, as the old grandfather clock in the hall struck twelve times, there was a knock at the door. All four automatically looked at the front door—and then at each other.
“Who could that be?” asked Chris.
“I can’t imagine,” replied her twin. “After all, it is Christmas Eve. And it’s so late!”
“Maybe it’s Santa Claus.” John Pratt had a twinkle in his eyes. “The real Santa Claus, that is.”
“You mean one of the real Santa Clauses,” Chris countered with a chuckle. “Since we all know now that they’re really twins ...”
There was a second knock at the front door, even louder this time.
“Well, whoever it is doesn’t deserve to be left standing outside on a cold snowy winter night,” said Emily Pratt. “Whoever is knocking on our door is welcome to come sit by our fire and warm up.”
A few seconds later, the twin
s and their grandfather heard her unlock the front door—and they heard a familiar voice say, “Merry Christmas! Tell me, is there any room here for a cold, tired couple desperately in need of a place to stay?”
“Daddy!” Chris and Susan cried in unison, rushing over to the door so quickly that they nearly knocked over their mugs of hot chocolate.
“What are you two doing here?” Chris squealed as she reached the front door and saw both her parents standing on the porch, laden with suitcases and packages that were dusted with snow—and wearing sheepish smiles.
“Would you believe that we couldn’t bear to be away from all our loved ones on Christmas?” the twins’ mother asked with a smile.
“That’s right,” her husband agreed. “Somehow, sitting around on a beach, looking at palm trees and working on our tans and drinking iced tea, surrounded by complete strangers, made us both feel that we were missing out on Christmas entirely.”
“And we didn’t realize how much Christmas meant to us until we were on the verge of doing without it.”
“So,” Mr. Pratt finished with a shrug, “here we are! We sure missed you girls!”
“We missed you, too!” cried Susan, hugging her mother, then her father.
“And we couldn’t be happier that you changed your plans,” Emily Pratt said warmly. “Now come on in and get warm. You must be freezing—not to mention exhausted!”
“Not anymore,” said her son, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Now that I’m here with all of you, there’s no way I’m going to go to sleep and miss out on catching up on everything. That is, assuming that my favorite twins managed to find something interesting to do with their vacation from school!”
Chris and Susan and Emily and John all looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“Oh, you know us, Daddy,” Chris said offhandedly. “Sooz and I always manage to find something to keep us both busy!”
“Well,” their father said hesitantly, “we hope you’re not sick of Vermont already. Your mother and I were thinking of staying on here for a few days. Would you mind if we extended your stay here until next week?”
“Mind!” the girls cried in unison.
“Good. Then it’s settled,” said their mother. “We can’t wait to tell you all about our vacation in sunny Mexico, but first tell us what’s new here.”
“Oh, nothing much,” John Pratt said.
The twins exchanged glances.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Grandpa?”
“What are you talking about, Christine?”
“Isn’t there something you wanted to tell Mom and Dad ... about the house here in Vermont, I mean?”
The twins’ father looked puzzled. “The house? What about the house?”
John and Emily Pratt looked at each other and then started to chuckle.
“Well,” John said after clearing his throat, “it all sounds pretty silly now, but believe it or not, up until a few days ago, Emily and I were actually toying with the idea of selling the house and moving to a condominium down south. You know, in one of those retirement villages.”
“Selling the house!” the girls’ mother cried.
“Moving south!” her husband echoed.
“See,” Emily Pratt said sheepishly, “we told you it was a silly idea! Actually, it was the twins here who convinced us of how silly it really was. They showed us that we were still energetic and, well, young at heart. As a matter of fact, I’m about to start a second career!”
“Grandma!” Susan gasped. “This is a real surprise!”
“See, you girls aren’t the only ones who are full of secrets! Yes, I’ve decided to start selling some of the things I make at Betty’s Craft Supplies store. She’s going to be converting part of it into a gift shop, and she and I and some of the other local craftspeople will be displaying some of our work for sale.
“And,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes, “if it goes well, I may even approach some of the shopkeepers over at the local mall!”
“Grandma, that’s fantastic!” Chris cried.
“I’ll say,” Susan agreed. “Wow, this has really turned out to be the perfect Christmas. Mom and Dad are here, I’ve got the best sister in the world, Grandma and Grandpa have decided not to sell the house after all ...”
Susan looked around the room at her family, her brown eyes glowing. “You know, for the very first time in my life, I think I really am beginning to appreciate the true meaning of Christmas. Merry Christmas, everybody!”
Copyright © 1987 by Cynthia Blair
Originally published by Fawcett Juniper (ISBN 978-0449702215
Electronically published in 2015 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.BelgraveHouse.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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