Do You Believe in Santa?

by Sierra Donovan

  “You heard me tell the story.”

  “I heard you tell it to the little boy in the store,” Jake said. “But I’ve told quite a few stories to Emily, and if you’re like me—well, stories get refined over time. Like the way you used those lines from ‘The Night Before Christmas.’”

  “It’s called ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas,’ actually.”

  He had no doubt she knew the poem by heart. “Right. So tell me the way you saw it.”

  She raised her head from his shoulder. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Mandy straightened, drawing back to look at him. She’d never had an adult ask her this, ever. But Jake appeared to be sincere. He didn’t look as if he meant to deconstruct her story like some armchair CSI investigator.

  She closed her eyes and thought. “Okay. I sneaked out of bed after my mom was done wrapping presents, and I stretched out here on the couch to wait. My head was at that end.” She nodded toward the far side of the couch. “It was after eleven, and I did fall asleep. But when I woke up, it was like something startled me awake. You know how sometimes you hear a noise in your sleep, and you don’t know what woke you up until you hear it again? It was like that. And I was wide-awake. I remember my heart was beating faster.”

  She looked toward the window. This time, she didn’t see the snow. She was picturing the Christmas tree in the spot where she still put it up year after year. “This room gets pretty bright at night at Christmas, when the tree is lit. My mom always used white lights for the tree. I tried colored lights once, and they were pretty, but they weren’t the same. The white lights are more like candlelight.”

  She turned her head toward the fireplace. “So, I looked over there—we had lights around the outside edges of the fireplace, too. I just remembered that.” She traced the shape of the fireplace in the air with her finger. “And he was there. Not a silhouette, not a shadow. I could see his face. Part of me wants to say he was carrying a bag over his shoulder, but I’m not sure.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I remember two things really well: the color of his suit, and his expression. His clothes weren’t bright red. They’re a deeper color, more of a crimson. But I don’t think I thought of that word then. What I remember most is his face. That’s why I complain about the store Santas, because it’s so hard to describe. He looked serious—but not stern, like some of those old English Santas. He had a glimmer in his eye, but not a ho-ho-ho look like most of the American Santas. I don’t think he was smiling, but maybe with the beard, it was just hard to tell.”

  She waited, afraid he’d ask her if she’d known anyone who looked like that, relieved when he didn’t.

  “And the flash of light when he left—that’s absolutely true. There’s no way he just walked out the door. He wasn’t some guy dressed up.”

  Mandy tried to think of other details to add, but nothing came to mind. She contemplated the spot in front of them. She and Jake were sitting closer to the hearth than she had been that night, and the fire Jake had built cast its flickering patterns on the bricks. But her mind’s eye was seeing something else. The image of that long-ago night, the one she’d struggled so hard to capture a couple of hours ago, came clear. The kind face, the sense of peace and wonder. She drew in a slow breath, almost afraid to look away. But she turned to Jake.

  He was looking, not at the fireplace, but at her, his features quiet and thoughtful. Thoughtful, she hoped, and not analytical.

  When her eyes met his, he smiled and nodded toward the fireplace. “You really know how to paint a picture.”

  As if, in some way, he saw it too. She knew he couldn’t see it, see it, the way she had. The way she could picture it now. But he wasn’t trying to drag in logic this time, and if she was reading his expression right, he wasn’t just playing along either. She had the feeling she’d had about Jake before—that maybe, in some small way, he got it.

  Maybe that was enough.

  For tonight, her own mental picture was clear again, and that helped. It had been her anchor, the thing she’d clung to, all these years. But maybe there were other things to believe in.

  She set her cocoa mug on the coffee table next to Jake’s. It was still more than half-full; somewhere along the line, he’d emptied his. Turning to Jake, she put a hand on his cheek. He’d shaved since this afternoon, long ago enough now that she could feel a hint of stubble starting to return. It had been that many hours since he’d gotten back to town. She looked past Jake to the mantel clock. It was nearly midnight—three hours later on the East Coast. With the travel, the time zones, and everything that had happened since he arrived, he must be worn out.

  “You really didn’t know what you were getting into with me,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He covered her hand on his cheek with his own. “I got a lot more than I bargained for. But that’s a good thing.”

  Jake looked down at Mandy’s face in the firelight. He didn’t know if he believed in Santa Claus, but the soft glow of those blue eyes made it a lot easier to believe in peace on earth, good will toward men. Whatever she’d seen that night had been real enough to her. And hearing her recall it in such calm, clear-eyed detail filled him not with worry, but with wonder.

  “I meant what I said.” He curled his fingers around hers. “I’m in love with you. I don’t know what’s going to happen yet with this hotel mess, but—”

  “I love you, too,” she said, and reached up to kiss him, as if she’d had enough words for tonight.

  And had he just called his job a mess?

  Didn’t matter. As their lips met, he drew Mandy against him. It was a hot-chocolate-flavored kiss, perfect for an impossibly snowy mid-October night. Dimly he realized he wasn’t sure if it was still snowing or not. That didn’t matter either.

  Just a little earlier he’d been exhausted, but not now. The warmth between them coursed through him like a reviving current.

  Mandy’s arms were around his neck, her lips soft, yielding, giving. Jake brought his hand up to tunnel his fingers though her hair, his arm around her waist drawing her closer, trying to close any space between them. As he kissed her again, he nibbled lightly on her bottom lip, and she made a tiny sound from the back of her throat that threatened to be his undoing. He let his lips wander across her cheek and down the side of her neck, relishing the warmth of her skin and the scent of her hair. Her sigh filled his ears, and tantalizing thoughts flooded his mind.

  He didn’t want to go anywhere. He would have loved to stay here all night, for so many reasons, not the least of which was the inviting way Mandy’s body felt pressed against his.

  But there were so many reasons not to. After tonight, he was sure of what he’d suspected all along: Mandy had never slept with anyone. It wasn’t something Jake entered into lightly either. Spending the night with her while his work was still so uncertain, knowing that soon he might have to leave for good, wouldn’t be right.

  It wouldn’t be right under any circumstances, he realized. Because Mandy Reese was a forever girl. And forever wasn’t something he could promise. Not yet.

  Jake raised his head, wondering if this was the way the earth would feel if it tried to resist the pull of its orbit around the sun. As he looked down at her, Mandy’s eyes were shining, heavy-lidded and impossible to resist. He dipped his head down for another kiss, then another.

  He didn’t want to stop. And he really needed to.

  Mandy savored Jake’s arms around her, the feeling of being so totally enfolded. When he raised his head, she didn’t want him to stop; when he didn’t kiss her, it felt like slowly waking up. Reluctantly she loosened the hold of her arms around him. There was something solemn in his face as he looked down at her. He traced the outline of her lips with one fingertip. Mandy shivered.

  “Ever wish you could freeze time?” he asked.

  She willed herself to form words. “Sometimes. Why?”

  “I was just thinking this would be
a good moment.” His finger continued its slow, lazy trail along the bottom of her lower lip. “I wouldn’t have to move from this spot. . . .”

  She waited, not sure where he was going with the thought, only sure that the feather-light touch of his fingertip was making her crazy.

  “But I’d better go now,” he said.

  She hadn’t expected to hear that.

  For the moment, at least, Jake didn’t move. “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” he said. “You’re off, right?”

  “Of course. The store’s closed Sunday.”

  “You and two-thirds of Tall Pine. Okay, what I’d like to do—” His lips brushed briefly over hers again. “Scratch that. What I need to do is go and get a decent night’s sleep. Then call you in the morning and spend every waking minute with you. If you don’t mind.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Then, Monday, the real fun starts,” he said. “First thing in the morning, I have breakfast with Winston Frazier. And try to convince him I’m not the devil.”

  Chapter 15

  “A poached egg, orange juice, and a slice of dry toast.” Winston Frazier handed his menu to the waitress at the Pine ’n’ Dine, a young brunette Jake didn’t recognize. Her name tag said Tiffany.

  “A Belgian waffle, a side of bacon, and a cup of coffee, please,” Jake said.

  Already, they were opposites. Tiffany left, and it was time for the small talk. Frazier surprised Jake by starting it off. “So how was New York?”

  “Pennsylvania.”

  “Pennsylvania.” A flicker in Frazier’s slate-gray eyes suggested, Same thing.

  “Busy,” Jake said. “And warmer than here.”

  “Yes, we’ve had quite a cold snap,” Frazier acknowledged.

  “What I really didn’t expect was the snow.”

  Frazier looked at him quizzically. “Snow?”

  “Saturday night.” Jake frowned. “There was even a little left over in the trees Sunday morning.”

  Frazier shook his head slowly. “I was up at five a.m. Sunday. I didn’t see a thing.”

  Okay, weather could be pretty localized. Come to think of it, Jake hadn’t noticed any evidence of snow around his hotel either, and that was barely five minutes from Mandy’s house. But the blue spruce in her tiny front yard had definitely worn a sprinkling of white yesterday morning.

  As their food arrived, Jake’s cell phone chirped in his pocket. He grimaced inwardly as he brought it out and muted it. He’d thought the diner, like so much of Tall Pine, was in a dead spot.

  “Sorry.” He pocketed the phone again. “Forgot to turn it off.”

  Frazier eyed him curiously. “Aren’t you going to check it?”

  “Not unless it’s from you, and that doesn’t seem likely.” Jake reached for his coffee. “If it’s important, they left a message. I’m with who I’m with.”

  He’d learned that lesson the hard way, on his first project five years ago in Philadelphia, but Frazier didn’t need to know that part. He was still studying Jake with a faint air of reassessment. Maybe having his phone go off hadn’t been such an unlucky thing after all.

  “So,” Jake said, “I came to hear your thoughts about the hotel project.”

  “I think you have a fair idea of where we stand,” Frazier said. “So far Tall Pine’s managed to keep out the corporate chains they’ve got everywhere else in Southern California. This is nothing personal. It’s the Regal Hotel chain, in principle, that we have a problem with.”

  Jake wondered how many people he was including in that “we.”

  “Understood.” Jake’s response brought a lift of Frazier’s eyebrows. “I can see what you want to preserve. Tall Pine is a beautiful, quiet community. That’s what visitors come here for. But there’s no denying your town relies on the tourist trade. . . .”

  Frazier’s eyes took on a blank, polite stare that told Jake he was tuning out. Jake was talking too much again, he realized. And the whole purpose of this meeting was to not recreate the town council meeting.

  Jake shifted gears. “Sorry. You’ve heard my spiel. What am I doing wrong?”

  “Aside from trying to rebuild a place as soon as you get here?”

  Hey, it’s my job. But Jake held his tongue.

  “You’ve tried to make yourself at home too fast. We’ve all seen you around, trying to soak up local color. You probably mean well. But getting to know a place like this—it doesn’t happen all at once. Some people might even think you’re using Mandy Reese.”

  As Jake lifted his cup, hot coffee sloshed onto his hand. “What?”

  Frazier sliced into the flavorless-looking egg on his plate. “You take up with a local girl, learn about the town from her. Maybe you even think the council will look at you more kindly with her sitting next to you.” He shrugged. “People might think you were trying to do that.”

  Inside, Jake sizzled. But when he answered, he kept his voice level. “They would be wrong.”

  While Jake counted to ten in his head, Frazier calmly took another bite, letting the ball take another bounce in Jake’s court. This felt a whole lot like a test. If Jake argued too vehemently, it could sound like he was protesting too much.

  But Jake had spent the first half of his childhood being the new kid in town. He’d learned that sometimes you had to roll with the punches. And sometimes you had to stand firm.

  “The fact is,” Jake said, “Mandy is reason enough for me to want to stick it out here. The company probably wouldn’t mind if I let this one go. The funny thing is, I think Tall Pine would be a pretty friendly place if I were here for any other reason.”

  “Possibly.”

  Jake met Frazier’s slate-gray eyes. “So,” he said, “since this isn’t personal, tell me more about your concerns.”

  The bells on the shop door jingled just before five, and Mandy looked up from the register to see Jake in his polo shirt and the navy windbreaker.

  Mrs. Swanson, on her way to the door to turn around the Closed sign, greeted him first. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks. That’s good to hear.”

  There seemed to be an extra layer of gratitude in his voice, and he looked tired. Mandy closed the register, walked up and greeted him with a hug. “How’d the breakfast meeting go?”

  “Interesting. I’ll fill you in once you’re free.”

  “I was just getting ready to count out the register.” Mandy rounded the counter, opened the register and pulled out the cash tray. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  As she moved toward the back room to count the money, she was aware of Mrs. Swanson’s eyes going from her to Jake. The woman didn’t miss much, and Mandy had the feeling she was measuring the degrees of warmth between the two of them.

  Behind her, she heard Jake asking Mrs. Swanson, “Did you get any snow Saturday night?”

  Mandy could almost hear her boss’s puzzled frown. “No. It never snows here before Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s what people keep telling me,” Jake said.

  When Mrs. Swanson left, Mandy was still in back counting out the cash drawer, so Jake sauntered through the shop. The displays had shifted quite a bit since he’d been gone. He noticed a small section of turkeys and pilgrims alongside the fall pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns, waiting for their turn on center stage of the off-season table. Then his eyes wandered to the south wall of the store, where a pair of matching frames—one red, one green—caught his eye. He didn’t think they’d been there before. Inside the frames, he saw two cleanly reproduced newspaper clippings.

  Jake strolled over to take a look. The red-framed clipping on the left showed the profile of a dark-haired little girl with a microphone held in front of her by someone who wasn’t in the shot. The headline read, TRUE BELIEVER: LOCAL FOURTH GRADER SAW SANTA CLAUS.

  The article elaborated:

  By fourth grade, most children are pretty doubtful about old St. Nick. But a television reporter interviewing children at Tall Pine Elementary got a refreshing e
yewitness account from nine-year-old Mandy Reese, who says she saw Santa Claus at her home last year....

  Jake noticed the article didn’t include an interview with Mandy, just a retelling of her earlier interview with the television reporter. The green-framed article on the right featured a very recognizable photograph of Mandy standing behind the counter of The North Pole, smiling shyly. SANTA SIGHTER GOES TO WORK AT CHRISTMAS STORE.

  The North Pole has a new helper to spread the Christmas spirit.

  The Christmas store on Evergreen Lane, which specializes in yuletide items year-round, has hired Mandy Reese, a recent graduate of Tall Pine High School. Many locals will remember the 18-year-old as the 9-year-old who told television reporters she saw Santa Claus tiptoe through her living room on Christmas Eve. . . .

  The piece went on to quote Mrs. Swanson at length, describing her new employee as “a natural” and hedging somewhat about the store’s past struggles to stay afloat with the previous owner.

  Asked if she still believes in Santa, Reese’s eyes took on a playful sparkle.

  “Of course,” she said. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  A smile twitched at Jake’s lips. Not exactly hard-hitting journalism, but a small-town newspaper could do worse.

  “Oh,” Mandy said from behind him. “You found them. That didn’t take long.”

  “The frames caught my eye. Where were they before?”

  “Behind the counter. I sort of accidentally-on-purpose dropped one a few months ago.”

  “Because of me?”

  She nodded.

  Jake gestured toward the second article. “You don’t say much in here.”

  “I was eighteen. And I felt so awkward. Mrs. Swanson did most of the talking. I felt like a prize cow.”

  Jake put his arm around her shoulders. “She knows you’re more than that. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do now. She’s been really good to me.”

  He thought back to his conversation with Winston Frazier this morning, and with Sherry the other night. It seemed to him a whole lot of people knew Mandy was special. And she seemed so unaware of it herself.