The Santa Sleuth

by Heather MacAllister

  "Hey--what's Santa's name?"

  Wearily, Amanda looked at her production assistant. "Santa Claus."

  "Oh, right."

  Arms crossed mutinously, Virginia stood by the empty gold and red-velvet throne. At least she was wearing her candy-cane sweatshirt.

  "How are you doing, Virginia?" Amanda asked.

  "Horrible."

  "It'll all be over in a few minutes. We'd like you sit on Santa's lap and give your last Santa report, just the way you always do, but this time, tell all the boys and girls that you've decided the Buffalo Bayou Santa is the best Santa you've found."

  Virginia's lower lip stuck out.

  "Will you do that for me, honey?" Amanda pleaded. "I'm not asking you to say he's the real Santa, just the best one you found."

  "Okay." Virginia spoke so softly that Amanda could barely hear her.

  Relief flooded through her. "Thanks."

  "Amanda! Credits are rolling."

  Amanda gave a thumbs-up to Virginia and scampered out of camera range. In minutes, Hello Houston would cut to them.

  Where was Santa?

  "Where's your Santa?" she demanded of the mall official. "We need him now!"

  He shrugged.

  She was going to be sick, right here on live television.

  Helplessly, she watched the time tick away until she had to cue Virginia.

  "Merry Christmas!" chirped Virginia.

  Bless her heart. The sparkle was gone, but with all the activity and excitement, probably no one noticed but Amanda.

  What everyone did notice was that Santa's throne was conspicuously empty.

  Virginia had just started speaking when a faint but extremely welcome, "Ho-ho-ho ... Me-e-ery Christmas," became audible.

  The crowd parted and Santa arrived in a swirl of artificial snow.

  Amanda sat down. She was getting too old for all this stress.

  Virginia stood, transfixed, as Santa took his place on the throne and beckoned to her. She took a few steps, stopped and stared.

  Santa looked thinner than Amanda remembered, but she'd seen so many ...

  Giggling, Virginia climbed onto Santa's lap and gave him a hug. "He's the best Santa of them all!" she said.

  Amanda was not one to look a gift miracle in the mouth. As the camera focused on a bubbling Virginia, the program finished with a voice-over of the mall official inviting all children to come and visit Santa during Buffalo Bayou Mall's extended holiday shopping hours.

  As soon as they were off the air, Amanda ran over to Virginia and the Santa Claus.

  "That was too close," she said, "But I appreciate you ... " She trailed off as Santa tugged down his beard, revealing a familiar face.

  Kirk.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "You told me I had to play Santa," he explained, grinning.

  "I meant ... " But she couldn’t finish in front of Virginia.

  "Come sit." He patted his lap and Virginia moved over.

  "Oh, no, I'm too heavy!"

  Kirk grabbed Amanda around the waist and positioned her on his lap. "Kirk!"

  Virginia giggled. "Tell her, Daddy, tell her."

  "As we speak, ownership of the Rambling Ranch is changing hands."

  "You mean, right now?"

  Kirk nodded.

  "And you're not there?"

  Kirk put his arms around them. "No. I'd rather be here with you two."

  "But you've been trying to sell that house for so long!" Tears stung Amanda's eyes as she understood the gesture he'd made.

  "I used to think it was important that I be there. But when they scheduled the closing for three o'clock today, I told them no thanks, my daughter was going to be on television and I was going to watch her."

  Amanda knew he was telling her--showing her--that he could change. "You had a great view, too."

  "I would have missed it if it hadn’t been for you." He turned to Virginia. "Young lady, I believe you had a Christmas wish?"

  Virginia's eyes darted from her father to Amanda and she nodded, but said nothing.

  "I know I've got a Christmas wish," Kirk said, the light tone belying the intensity of his expression. "Now tell Santa your Christmas wish, Amanda."

  She looked into his eyes, forgetting about all the people and cameras, and said what was in her heart. "I want to be part of your lives. I want us to be a family."

  "That's my wish! That's my wish!" shrieked Virginia.

  "Is that what she's been asking the Santas for?"

  Kirk nodded.

  "Oh, Virginia," Amanda said as the little girl squeezed her hard. "I don't know how to be a mommy. I'll make mistakes, and my job--"

  "The important thing," Kirk interrupted, tilting Amanda's face so she'd look at him, "is that you're willing to try. And that means I get my wish." He kissed her. "I love you."

  "I'm gonna get a mom-my, I'm gonna get a mom-my," Virginia sang and slid off her father's knee.

  "I love you," Amanda said, smiling at Kirk through tears. "Both of you."

  She was vaguely aware of applause and then, with Virginia hopping up and down, Amanda Donnelly kissed Santa Claus.

  "Uh, Kay?" Ron pointed to the viewfinder on his camera. "Shouldn't I pan the mall or something? We're going live in fifteen seconds."

  "Nah." Kay grinned. "This'll be great for the closing credits."

  ###

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today Bestselling author Heather MacAllister is a former music teacher who married her high school sweetheart on the 4th of July, so is it any surprise that their two sons turned out to be a couple of firecrackers? Heather has written over forty-five romances for Harlequin Romance (as Heather Allison), American, Temptation, and Blaze. Her books have been translated into twenty-six languages and published in dozens of countries. She's won several Romantic Times BOOK Reviews awards, is a three-time RWA RITA (r) finalist, and eHarlequin readers voted Lone Star Santa the funniest book of the year. When she's not writing, Heather collects vintage costume jewelry, loves fireworks displays, computers that behave, and sons who answer their mother's email.

  Visit her at http://www.HeatherMacAllister.com

  Find her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/HeatherMacAllisterBooks

  Friend her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/HeatherMacAllister

  Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/Heather_Mac

  Also at Amazon.com by Heather MacAllister

  Picture Perfect

  Haunted Spouse

  Counterfeit Cowgirl

  Undercover Lover

  Princess Charming

  ***

  Excerpt from Counterfeit Cowgirl

  "Fired? The whole writing staff?" Olivia Faraday raised one eyebrow. The unmade-up one. So that's what was behind this morning's summons of the entire Lovers and Liars cast.

  "Yes," moaned the petite blonde behind her. She paced across Olivia's dressing room twice, and then flopped onto the flowered couch.

  "Is this your first purge?" Olivia regarded her pouting colleague in the mirror above the vanity.

  "You mean you've been through this before?" Monique, the blonde, sighed heavily.

  "Several times." Olivia considered her reflection, specifically her eyebrows. She covered the thinner, lighter one with her hand, and then covered the heavier darker one for comparison.

  "Aren't you worried at all?" Monique's face was the perfect picture of worry.

  Olivia wasn't worried--yet. More mildly concerned, and only because it was unusual to fire all the writing staff at once.

  Besides, worrying caused wrinkles, and Olivia was at the stage of her career when she was more concerned about the wrinkles on her face than wrinkles in the writing staff. But Monique wasn't as experienced and obviously looked to Olivia for reassurance. "Sometimes a wholesale cleaning can be good," she offered.

  Monique jumped up and began pacing again. "They just let me age a little." Olivia rolled her eyes. "The new team will probably have me ba
ck doing teen story lines. I'm twenty-four! How long do they think I can pass for seventeen?"

  About as long as they expected Olivia to pass for twenty-four. She hoped her thirtieth birthday had sneaked by unnoticed.

  "You don't have any problems. They won't mess with Diana D'Angelo."

  "They'd better not." Olivia had spent twelve years developing Diana D'Angelo from a secondary character into the most popular female character on the New York-based soap opera Lovers and Liars. In fact, Diana was one of the most popular characters on any soap opera, and Olivia worked hard to keep her that way.

  With a groan, Monique flung herself back onto the couch. "Do you think the slip in the ratings had anything to do with all the writers being fired?"

  Did the slip have any ... Slowly Olivia swiveled to face Monique. "Monique, dahling, " she said in her best Diana voice. "Even the bubble-headed twit you play could figure that out."

  But Monique was too upset to smile. "Do you think I like playing a bubble headed twit?"

  "Sorry, I was only--"

  "Do you think I like wearing tight T-shirts and knowing I'll spend each summer parading around in a swimsuit so we can attract the preadolescent males who are home from school and are too young to work at the local Burger Doodle?" Amazingly Monique didn't run out of breath. Olivia was impressed. The girl had had some serious vocal coaching.

  "Okay, you're too good for the Noelle part." Olivia swiveled back. "A piece of advice. Endure. Do what it takes to last in this business."

  "Why? They don't give Emmys for endurance."

  "Sure they do. All the time."

  "You don't have an Emmy."

  In the mirror, Olivia's level gaze met Monique's slightly malicious one. "No, but I do have my self-respect."

  Pink stained Monique's face. Moments later, she groaned again. "I hate this waiting!"

  "Here." Olivia tossed her an eyebrow pencil. "Do your eyebrows."

  "I've been meaning to ask you--what's with the eyebrows?" Monique pulled a hassock up to the mirror and sat. Her chin barely cleared the vanity top.

  Olivia shoved jars and tubes aside until she uncovered a gold-colored memo. She dangled it in front of Monique.

  Monique squinted. "'To: All female actresses. From: Wardrobe and Makeup. Subject: Eyebrows.' I didn't get one of these. Nobody ever tells me anything."

  "You don't do your own makeup."

  "Oh." She continued, "'In order for Lovers and Liars to maintain the fashionable image our viewers have come to expect ...' Blah blah--here it is, ' ... this season, eyebrows will be thicker to reflect the current direction in fashion.'" She stopped and stared at Olivia, who obligingly covered first one eye, then the other. "Oh, no."

  "That's what I thought. We'll just pretend we never saw this." Olivia plucked the paper out of Monique's hands and deliberately tore it into two. Then she dropped the pieces into the trash can. "Things will be so unsettled for the next few days that our eyebrows will be the least of their worries."

  But not the least of her worries. Although for Monique's sake--and maybe her own--Olivia wanted to appear only mildly concerned about the inconvenience of breaking in a new writing team, this shake-up was beginning to feel different from any of the others.

  The ratings slip had been at first a slide, then a complete free-fall. It was a fact that whenever Olivia took time off, which wasn't often, the show's popularity dipped. Olivia made sure she took time off right before her contract was up for renewal. Producers had a tendency to take her for granted.

  But this time, the ratings hadn't climbed when Diana D'Angelo came back. Diana was between story lines, which was another reason Olivia had taken her vacation. When she returned, there was no new, glamorous story line, no new, glamorous wardrobe and no new, handsome leading man. Most male characters on Lovers and Liars were introduced as Diana's new lover, since Diana had been involved with all the current male leads.

  No new story line, and see what had happened? No ratings climb.

  Olivia did not feel vindicated. Why hadn't there been a new story line for her? Something wasn't right. What an awful time for negotiating a contract.

  The sharp knock on the door made both women jump. "You're wanted in the conference room," said a voice, and then footsteps moved down the hall and the message was repeated.

  Monique sat frozen.

  "It'll be okay," Olivia reassured her. "They won't make horrendous changes right away. It's just not done."

  Monique didn't thaw.

  "Hey." Olivia jostled her arm. "We're talking about people who send out memos on eyebrows."

  Monique managed a weak and unconvincing smile.

  The rest of the cast emerged from their dressing rooms where they'd spent most of the morning and afternoon waiting for news. No one spoke as they shuffled down the hall to the elevators. Once inside, everyone concentrated on the floor numbers. Their nervousness began to rub off on Olivia.

  A collection of attractive people wearing unattractive frowns, they filed into the staff conference room. From the litter of coffee cups, sandwich wrappers and cigarette stubs, Olivia gathered that the new writers had been brainstorming all night.

  John Paul, the producer, clapped his hands for attention. "People, I'd like you to meet your new writers. They've worked like crazy to come up with an innovative bible and next week's scripts. I'll distribute copies as soon as my girl gets back."

  Babble broke out immediately at the news that there was to be a different bible--stories outlined for the next several years. The writers wore tight smiles and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

  "I'd also like you to meet our new sponsor, Collingsworth Industries."

  Olivia hadn't noticed the jowly, gray-haired man in the corner. He seemed to disapprove of everyone and everything.

  Olivia wasn't surprised that Lovers and Liars had a new advertiser. When ratings fell, so did the cost of advertising time. Collingsworth Industries had gone bargain hunting.

  Just then John Paul's "girl" returned with a stack of script copies, and the actors pounced on them.

  "Olivia?"

  She looked at John Paul.

  "We'd like to talk with you after the others leave."

  Olivia's heart stopped, and then began racing. She didn't like the sound of this.

  The room resonated with ominous quiet after her fellow cast members left. John Paul introduced her to the Collingsworth Industries representative, who turned out to be Mr. Collingsworth himself.

  This was unusual. Olivia wanted to wipe her hand before shaking his so he wouldn't be able to tell how nervous she was. However, Mr. Collingsworth remained seated and didn't look as though he'd shake her hand even if she offered it. Olivia immediately characterized him as a very conservative, traditional man of her father's generation, who wasn't quite ready to accept the acquaintance of an actress.

  "Ah, Olivia," began John Paul, slowly handing her the bible. "We're going to be taking the show in a fresh direction ..."

  This didn't sound good, Olivia thought as she accepted the sheaf of papers.

  "And I, for one, am excited about it." John Paul shook his fist as he said the word "excited."

  Since John Paul was only excited when it behooved him to be so, that meant the changes were dictated by the sponsor, who must have put up major bucks. Olivia glanced at Collingsworth with renewed interest.

  "Have a seat." John Paul gestured to the one he'd occupied. "And take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with Diana's new story line."

  Olivia sat. The changes must be horrendous if John Paul thought she couldn't read them standing up.

  As she flipped through the bible, Olivia was aware that the writers skulked from the room, but that Mr. Collingsworth remained. Oh, joy.

  John Paul was silent, watching her.

  Olivia quickly glanced at the casting, then read it again, more slowly. It was a bloodbath. What were they doing? At least a third of the characters were either being written out or recast. Hers wasn't one of them. In
spite of her relief, she very much resented feeling that her replacement might have been a possibility.

  She noted that Monique's character, Noelle, was still there, but shipwrecked on a spring-break cruise. Poor Monique. That meant even more time in torn clothes and bathing suits.

  But what was up with Diana? Olivia scanned until she found the outline for her story.

  "A ranch?" Olivia read with disbelief. "Diana D'Angelo inherits a ranch? In the West?" She glared at John Paul. "How nice."

  "Yes, isn't it?" His smile was as fake as his hair.

  There was more. "On-location shoots," Olivia warbled. "Why, John Paul, what will this do to production costs?" Are you crazy? her expression said.

  Humor the sponsor, dear, his look replied. "Did you hear that, Mr. Collingsworth? Is she a team player, or what?"

  Mr. Collingsworth grunted suspiciously.

  "'Diana, in an effort to learn more about her inheritance, works as a ranch hand,'" Olivia emphasized, with a glance at John Paul. "And I see she'll have a new wardrobe. Jeans, flannel shirts ..." This was insane.

  "You know ..." Olivia bit her lip and looked off into space as if a thought had only just occurred to her. "I can really see Diana inheriting the ranch. Frankly, she's needed another source of income to support the lifestyle the public seems to expect." Olivia smiled at Mr. Collingsworth. "You may not know this, but Diana is sort of a--" she gestured with her hands, deliberately drawing his attention to the perfectly manicured nails and the official Diana jewelry " --fantasy character. She's glamorous, wealthy--a bit spoiled, it's true--but endearing. She doesn't deal with small, mundane irritants. Other people deal with them for her. She leads the kind of life women dream about. They identify with her. When Diana wears beautiful clothes and eats in elegant restaurants and falls in love with handsome men who adore her, our viewers can experience those things too."

  "She's been married too many times," Mr. Collingsworth said.

  Olivia blinked. "Well, yes, I suppose six times is a bit above average. But Diana's life is so full, and she has so many more experiences than most--"

  "And this will be just another one of those experiences, won't it, Olivia?" John Paul interrupted, taking the seat across from her.