Breakfast with Santa

by Carol Henry

  Oh, my God! This was her worst nightmare. “That was you! You were the one who played Sant—oops!” She looked at Kurtis, hoping he hadn’t figured out what she had been about to disclose. “Why didn’t you say something? You kept staring at me all morning—I looked like a freak in that get-up.”

  “Definitely not a freak. I’m sure you turned a few heads, including mine. It was hard to concentrate on the kids with you in the room. You have a unique flair with kids, by the way.”

  “Up, up,” Kurtis cried, his arms flung out to his father before Katelyn could respond. Mark lifted him into his arms, gave Katelyn a quick peck on the cheek, and turned to leave.

  “Me kiss Katie.”

  Kurtis leaned toward Katelyn. If Kurtis caused her heart to melt any more, there would be nothing left but a puddle in the middle of the floor. She gave him access to her cheek, surprised when he wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a tight hug, too.

  “He’s not so shy about what he wants. Guess adults could learn a thing or two from kids.”

  Katelyn didn’t have a comeback. What was Mark trying to say?

  “Thanks for letting Kurtis stay to help decorate.” Mark opened the door and stepped out on the front porch. A blast of cold air filled the space between them, yet Katelyn didn’t feel the bitter temperature.

  “I enjoyed having him help. Thanks.”

  Before Mark’s car pulled out of the drive, Katelyn shut the front door, scuffed across the floor, and plunked down on the sofa. What the hell just happened? Dear Lord, she was in trouble. Her heart was full—fuller than it had been in a very long time. And she had no business letting Mark and Kurtis have such an all-consuming impact on her so soon after seeing him again. She had thought that part of her life was over—that she’d let the past go. But his kiss, however short-lived, had curled her toes. And brought back bittersweet memories.

  She gazed around the room at the disarray of the remaining Christmas decorations—tissue papers, ribbon, and leftover lights—not really seeing any of it. She sat, stunned at her behavior. His kiss had taken her back to their high school love and the feelings they had once shared. Six years ago, to be exact. Still hot from the internal combustion to her heart from his kiss, she covered her face with her hands, threw herself sideways on the sofa, buried her head in the pillows, and let out a loud groan, thankfully disguised as a moan, in the depths of the fluffy material.

  She sat up, shook her head. For God’s sake, she was engaged. Why was she acting as if Mark had just walked back into her life and she was welcoming him with open arms? She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let Kurtis grow too fond of her. She couldn’t grow too fond of Kurtis. They would both be hurt when Mark found someone else to fill his dead wife’s shoes. There were plenty of single women in Lobster Cove for him to choose from, but finding someone to be a mother for Kurtis…well…she hoped he chose wisely.

  Her thoughts were way out of control—it was only a kiss between old lovers—a high school infatuation. She was putting too much into that kiss. She had to get a grip!

  She wiped her hands over her face, took a deep breath, and allowed herself one final reflection in regards to Mark—why did she still have feelings for him when she was engaged to Sven?

  OMG! Sven!

  Chapter Four

  Sven!

  Katelyn stepped around the half decorated tree, pulled the drapes away from the window, and took a moment to observe the lazy snowflakes drifting down outside. The trees were dusted white—the sidewalks would need shoveling soon. Sven wasn’t here to shovel them for her, something he always insisted on doing. Such a gentleman, worrying about her—taking good care of her. How could she forget about him so easily?

  She’d been so overwhelmed with Mark and Kurtis helping her decorate, she’d forgotten about Sven. She recalled the conversation she’d had with Sven the day before he left for Norway—and tried hard to find the perfect, long-lasting connection between them.

  “I’ll be home for Christmas,” Sven had said when he’d stopped by to say goodbye Thursday night before Breakfast with Santa. “Perhaps I’ll let you talk me into a wedding date when I return.” He had given her a quick kiss on her cheek. His smile had promised a boat load of happiness, and she’d smiled back, thinking to hold him to that promise—it would make a great Christmas present.

  “You sound like a Christmas song,” she’d told him. “I wish you didn’t have to leave during my most favorite time of year. You’re going to miss Christmas caroling at the park. I’m going to miss you.” She’d snuggled against him, ecstatic at the thought of finally setting a date.

  “It’s the grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary—I can’t get out of it. Mom said they’ve made special holiday arrangements with the rest of the family and friends. I don’t want to disappoint everyone.” He put her at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes. His remorseful expression made her feel guilty. She’d almost wished he’d stay in Lobster Cove with her and miss his grandparents’ celebration.

  She’d latched on to his shirt collar, pulled him close, and planted a kiss on his lips. “We’ll talk about a lot more than dates when you return. Tell your grandparents happy anniversary for me. I can’t wait to meet them one day.”

  He’d wound his arms around her in a tight embrace, and kissed her again, then set her aside, kissed her forehead, and walked to the door. He swung it open, letting in a stiff cold breeze. Her empty, aching arms had hung at her sides. Katelyn had grabbed a sweater from the back of the chair in the hallway and wrapped it around her chilled body to ward off the cold from outside. A sudden emptiness assailed her. He hadn’t asked her to join him—a bit of a letdown, she had to admit. But then, being realistic, she did have a few more days of classes to complete before the end of the semester, and then there was her work program at Hearts and Hands Daycare. She shouldn’t have been so disappointed she hadn’t gotten an invitation to go to Norway with him. But she was. She had waved at Sven’s retreating tail lights, shut the front door, and leaned against it as disappointment overshadowed the start of the Christmas holiday she’d been looking forward to celebrating. With Sven.

  She convinced herself he wasn’t going to be gone forever. He had promised he’d be home in time to spend Christmas week with her. Besides, they would have plenty of other opportunities to visit his family in Norway after they were married. And who knew, they might even have their own little Olson to show off when they did visit.

  Looking back at their conversation caused doubts to set in. Doubts she wasn’t ready to deal with. She was being silly trying to read something into Sven’s goodbye that wasn’t there. Thinking back, his kisses hadn’t affected her in the same way as Mark’s kiss had today. And she didn’t want to think about why that was—or why it should matter.

  She gazed in amazement at the beginnings of the spirit of Christmas now filling her living room. No more moping about, she had things to do. She pulled out decorations and started arranging them around the room. She found the new red and green candles she bought the other day and displayed them on the end tables next to the sofa, surrounding them with plastic holly wreathes. She found her childhood stocking her grandmother had knitted for her, with her name on it, and hung it on the side of the fireplace. Next she unearthed her grandmother’s Christmas village, and arranged that on the mantel. She wasn’t finished yet, but it was a start. Feeling much better, and infused with the Christmas spirit once again, she went to the back porch and retrieved the clippings from the lower branches of the tree Mark had snipped off, and arranged them in a wreath for the front door. Pleased with her attempts, she quickly tidied up the remainder of the boxes of decorations littered around the floor in the front room.

  Katelyn took a moment to freshen her makeup, comb her hair, and then headed to Mariner’s earlier than planned. Her parents would need help with the dinner crowd. Her mother would already have decorated the restaurant from top to bottom with greens, miniature stuffed red lobsters, silver and gold bells ha
nging from the rafters, and red and green candles set in the center of holly with red berries on each table. There would be plenty of people from the community in the holiday spirit to mingle with and help get her mind off Sven’s absence.

  And Mark’s kisses.

  ****

  Mark had strapped Kurtis in his car seat, and then buckled his own seatbelt before starting the car and backing out of Katelyn’s driveway. He hadn’t lied—seeing her in that elf outfit, and then spending the day helping her decorate her tree, was the best welcome home he could have asked for—for both him and Kurtis. Sure, his parents had met him at the airport, tears, smiles, hugs, and kisses, and he had been filled with love. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them, and what it meant to them to have him home—to see their grandson for the first time. He almost cried when his mother took Kurtis in her arms, tears of happiness flowing down her pale cheeks. Having a child of his own now, he understood those emotions. He silently chastised himself for letting this homecoming be so long in coming.

  And he hadn’t lied when he’d told Katie how he felt about seeing her again after all this time. He had meant it when he said her interactions with the kids and adults at Breakfast with Santa was a gift to the community. The way she had treated Kurtis was special, too. She’d make a great mother.

  He stopped at the intersection, turned left, and with a jolt, grasped the fact that her children would be someone else’s—not his. They would belong to this Sven person—the man she was engaged to.

  Why should that bother him? He didn’t know, but it did. He no longer had a hold on Katie’s heart. He’d given that up years ago. He’d been an ass to not keep in touch, to have cut the ties so completely. He was surprised she’d even given him the time of day today, after the way he had practically ignored her all these years. Shit. If he were her, he wouldn’t be so forgiving. The woman had the heart of a saint. She hadn’t even acted as if he’d broken her heart. Had he? Was she being a trouper and holding it all in? Damn. Maybe he should apologize—clear the air. Fill her in on what he’d been through, why he hadn’t wanted to drag her into the kind of life he’d led. Even though she was engaged, he felt the need to come clean and hope she’d understand. After spending time with her today, he was pretty sure she’d forgive him. At least he hoped so.

  He pulled into his parents’ driveway, turned the ignition off, and helped Kurtis out of the car seat.

  “Come on, bud. Let’s get you inside and see what Grandma has for lunch. I’ll get Grandpa Logan to help with the tree. After you have something to eat and have a nap, we’ll get working on decorating our own tree. Whaddya say?”

  Kurtis nodded his head and laid it against Mark’s shoulder. God, he loved this little guy—something he was surprised to realize shortly after he’d been born. What would it be like had he and Katie had children? His insides warmed. Then sobered. It was too late. She was engaged. Whether she forgave him or not, she had found love in someone else’s arms.

  As had he.

  ****

  The Bergen hotel banquet hall was full to overflowing with family, friends, and waiters circling the room with serving trays laden with hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Sven wound his way through the crowd until he reached his grandfather’s side. His grandfather stood in front of the head table, talking to a plump elderly woman dressed in a typical Norwegian wool sweater, long skirt, and sturdy brown strapped shoes, her back to the crowded room. His grandfather made a striking figure, leaning on his cane, with his trimmed white hair, black tux, and polished shoes. Sven drew alongside him, waiting politely for his grandfather to finish his conversation being conducted in Norwegian.

  “Sven, you remember Aunt Olga?” His grandfather finally acknowledged him.

  He hadn’t seen his aunt in years and hadn’t recognized her.

  “Of course he does. Come here, you.” Aunt Olga pulled him in for a huge hug. “Such a good boy to come to help celebrate your grandparent’s special occasion. Are you moving back with your mother and father to help with the family business here in Bergen?”

  What? What was she talking about? Was she getting more befuddled in her older years? Sven returned her hug, and then stepped back, turned to his grandfather, eyebrows raised.

  “Now, Olga, I don’t think that’s public knowledge just yet.” His grandfather coughed and held his chest as he scolded her.

  What the hell was going on here? His parents hadn’t mentioned a thing about moving back to Norway. Why were they moving back to Bergen? And when had this all come about? And if true, when were they going to tell him?

  “I can see Sven is unaware. Now son, don’t worry. Things aren’t final. They’re just thinking about it.”

  His grandfather’s tone was raspy. He hadn’t detected it earlier, but it was obvious something was wrong.

  “You have caught me by surprise, Bestefar. I can see I need to talk to Father and find out what is going on. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “See what you’ve done, Olga.” His grandfather chastised his aunt.

  Sven turned on a dime and made his way through the crowded hotel banquet hall in search of his father. He spotted him leaning against the far wall, a tall glass of champagne in his hand, talking to an equally tall, heavy-set man he didn’t recognize. Both looked to be involved in a serious discussion. Sven could only surmise it had something to do with their intended relocation to Norway. He slowed, and was about to turn away and search out his mother instead, when his father spotted him, and motioned him forward.

  “Hello, son. Let me introduce you to Mr. Christenssen. Hans, this is my son, Sven.”

  Sven extended his hand in greeting. The man nodded, his grip firm, as he returned the handshake.

  “Hans and I were just discussing a proposition which might include you, if you wish.”

  “What’s going on Dad? Aunt Olga mentioned something about moving back home to Bergen. What’s that all about?”

  He didn’t mean to be rude, but he couldn’t hide his displeasure at not being part of the decision-making process in the first place. He shoved his shaking hands in his pockets, stood erect, his silently raised eyebrows demanding an explanation. After all, he worked for his parents and was part of their Flowers in Bloom flower shop back in Lobster Cove. What was behind this decision that had left him out of that process? And what was going to happen to him—and the Flowers in Bloom business?

  “Yes, well, Aunt Olga has been talking to your mother, and you know your aunt doesn’t know how or when to keep her mouth shut. She can twist things around to her own way of thinking.” His father smiled, plucked a tiny lobster hors d’oeuvre from a passing platter and popped it in his mouth. Sven waited impatiently for him to swallow.

  The lobster reminded him of Lobster Cove, and Katelyn. And how this news was going to affect her—them. He wasn’t amused—far from it. Yes, Aunt Olga was a bit of a gossip, but there was always some truth to her tales.

  “So why don’t you fill me in on what’s happening?”

  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” Mr. Christenssen looked embarrassed, nodded at Sven, then addressed his father. “I can see you two need to have a private word. I’ll see you in my office Monday morning at ten o’clock. We’ll finalize everything then.”

  Sven turned to his father the minute Mr. Christenssen was out of hearing range.

  “What is going on? Give it to me straight, Dad.”

  “Let’s go somewhere private.”

  His father led him through a side door away from the buzz of too many conversations going on at the same time, and too many ears. If they needed this much privacy, Sven knew he wasn’t going to be happy with the answers his father was about to impart. Just how long had his parents been planning this move?

  “Have a seat, son.”

  Sven waited for his father to sit in one of the low, plush maroon chairs on either side of a round oak tea table covered with an ivory damask tablecloth, and a holiday centerpiece. He sat in the opposite chair and folded h
is hands in his lap. Several red candles flickered in a circle of green ivy in the center. Sven studied the small flames as they flickered while he waited for his father to speak. When he didn’t appear to know where to begin, Sven raised an eyebrow expectantly, met his father’s eyes in encouragement—wanting him to share this big family secret so they could discuss it as a family—a family business decision.

  “Okay, so, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure of the outcome.” His father crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap—his demeanor was more at ease than Sven’s. “I had to come back home to find out for myself which way the wind was blowing.”

  His father paused as if to find the right words, as if Sven was a child who needed to be talked down to. The strained silence dragged on until Sven could stand it no longer.

  “So, which way does the wind blow, Dad?”

  “Don’t get wise with me. Calm down. Hear me out first.”

  “Sorry.” Scolded, Sven sighed, ran his hand through his hair, over his face, folded them in his lap, and sighed again.

  “I know this must be a shock. It was to your mother and me, as well. Your grandfather is very ill—he’s had a couple of bad spells before we came home—pneumonia and a TIA they call a mini-stroke. He asked me to come back to Bergen and run the family business. Actually, he’s ready to turn the entire franchise over to us. Immediately.”

  That explained his grandfather’s coughing and waxy appearance earlier. He loved his grandfather and had no idea he was so ill. His outward appearance had shown him to be in excellent health. Sven had no idea his illness was bad enough that he had to give up the family business he’d inherited from his father before him.

  “But you don’t know anything about the fishing business.”

  “It’s a family business. I grew up working in the business. It’s been a while, but it was my life for a long time. In fact, it’s what took us to the U.S.—to Lobster Cove. The McClintocks hired me when I first arrived. It was your mother who got started in the flower business. She made a success out of it, so I gave up my job on the fishing boats to work with her.”