“But, on the other hand, how could he do it without anyone noticing? And you said it was heavy.”
“There’s a dolly in the shed, and if it was early enough, maybe he could have done it without being seen. The shed’s kind of off the beaten path.”
“Do you really think he’d do something like that? That’s pretty radical.”
“To make a point, sure.”
After I finished my coffee, I left Donna and traveled around the park, making inquiries of the staff to see if they’d noticed Smith absconding with the statue. But they all swore they hadn’t seen a thing. Back in the office, I looked up Smith’s number at the university and called him. He vehemently denied taking the statue and gave me more grief for not making any of his changes. I quickly got off the phone.
The next morning, Donna offered me a gingerbread muffin and a caramel mocha, but I waved them away.
“Are you feeling all right?” She came over to my side of our table and pressed her hand to my forehead.
I shook her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just kind of overdid it last night. Scott and I had dinner at Jeremy’s. I hoovered through a steak, baked potato, and an ice cream snowball.”
“So you’re not hungry?”
I sighed. “I am, actually. But I think I should just have oatmeal today.”
“Of course. I have some special holiday oatmeal you’ll love. It has cranberries and nuts in it.”
“Thanks. Oh, before you go, have you seen Ethan this morning? I need to talk to him about his costume.”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. Speaking of oatmeal, he ordered two servings. Not the holiday kind. Just plain. It was an odd time for oatmeal but whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll go look for him. Can I get the oatmeal to go?”
“Sure. Be right back.”
When she brought my oatmeal to me, she asked, “No sign of the statue, I take it?”
“No. Joaquin and Cameron didn’t take it as a prank, and Professor Smith was downright offended when I suggested he stole it. I think he’s telling the truth. I’m looking into commissioning a new one from our sculptor, Sam, but it won’t be ready in time. I might have to pick up a plastic one at the drugstore. Yuck. Can you imagine?”
“No kidding?”
“Yeah, it’s not at all going to be the same, but we can’t have a sleigh and a bunch of reindeer without Santa.”
“I agree. Although you could have Ethan fill in at the festival. The kids could sit on his lap inside the sleigh.”
“You are just filled with great ideas lately. I’ll ask Ethan what he thinks.”
I finally found Ethan over at Peter Rabbit’s Garden, one of StoryWorld’s original sets.
“I really love this set,” he said when I came to stand next to him. He scratched his right arm, which made my own arm itch. The lotion Donna had given me hadn’t done much good.
“It’s one of my favorites too. I wanted to ask if you need some padding for the costume. You looked a little thin the other day when we did the PR pictures.”
“No, I’m good. I have more at home. I’ll be sure to bring it tomorrow.”
“Great. Also, we seem to be missing our Santa statue. Would you be okay with seeing the kids while seated in the sleigh?”
“Absolutely. What time should I get here?”
“Why don’t you aim for eleven-thirty. You can start seeing the kids at twelve. Then we’ll have cake and drinks at two.”
“Can’t wait.”
Mom and Tim arrived early for the Holiday Festival the next day and hung out with me in the office while I completed some last-minute details. Mom wasn’t pleased that the Santa statue was still missing, but she was putting up a good front.
My rash was bothering me again. I scratched my arm and my hand.
“Ashling, what’s that you’re scratching?” Mom asked.
“Poison oak. I got it here at the park somewhere.”
“That’s awful, Jack-O,” Tim said, and I smiled at the nickname which dated back to when he and I met on Halloween.
“Yeah, it itches like the Dickens,” I said. “Which is appropriate, I suppose, at this time of year. Although, now that I think about it, I don’t believe that phrase has anything to do with Charles Dickens.”
“You could try oatmeal,” Mom said.
My jaw dropped as I swiveled my chair toward her. “What did you just say?”
“Oatmeal. It’s an old-fashioned home remedy. You take a bath in it. Why so surprised?”
“I think I just figured something out. Don’t write off your statue yet!”
I found Ethan in the staff dressing room, stuffing padding under his red shirt and checking his appearance in the full-length mirror.
“Hi, Ashling,” he said to my reflection.
“You have poison oak,” I said without acknowledging his greeting.
“Yes. I must have come into contact with it somewhere.”
“You did. And I know where. By the shed, where our Santa statue was stored. You stole the statue, didn’t you?”
He turned away from the mirror and started for the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve played Santa at the Holiday Festival for years. It’s not that much of a stretch to think you knew exactly where we kept the statue. I know you took it and when. I just don’t know why. Are you planning to sell it?”
Before he could respond, Mom came through the doorway. “Ethan! Why in the world would you take my statue? How could you do that to me? I thought we were friends!”
Ethan strode over to Mom and took her hands in his. She let him but was clearly peeved. “Sarah, it’s so good to see you.”
“Don’t change the subject. Why did you take the Santa?”
Ethan let out a long sigh. “I can explain.”
“Good. We’re waiting,” Mom said.
He looked down at his white mittens and said softly, “I’m sick.”
Mom raised her eyebrows at me.
He continued, “Cancer. I might not be able to play Santa ever again. I wanted something from the old days to keep around, to remind me of all the good times I spent here. I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought. What I did was unforgiveable. A violation of the trust you both have in me. I’m so sorry.”
When Mom and I didn’t respond, Ethan said, “Have I ever told you how much StoryWorld has affected my life, Sarah?”
Mom shook her head.
“My father died when I was two. My mother was a wreck afterward. She already suffered from depression, and the grief exacerbated it. My grandmother moved in with us and took over raising me. She brought me to StoryWorld again and again. It’s really what saved me.”
Mom and I exchanged glances. We both, in our tenures as owners of StoryWorld, had heard such stories over and over. It’s why we loved what we did.
Ethan went on. “As you know, I worked here when I was a teen and became Santa when I was older. StoryWorld is a part of my history just as much as it is yours. I wanted the statue so I could hold onto a part of my history.”
“Ethan,” Mom said quietly.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll take off the costume and leave right now. I’ll have my son bring the statue over. It can be here in half an hour. And maybe Tim could take over as Santa Claus.”
We were all silent for a few beats.
Mom said, “I think you should stay. And I want you to join us for Christmas breakfast. You and your family.”
“I’d be honored. On both fronts,” Ethan said.
I looked at my combination watch/fairy-tale charm bracelet. “Okay, people. We’ve got a festival to run! Ethan, I’ll expect you in that sleigh within five minutes.”
He saluted me. “Yes, boss!”
Ethan was a huge hit as always, even more so because the kids loved climbing into the sleigh to sit on his lap. Donna brought a huge snowflake cake out to the Magic Forest, along wi
th lots of coffee with latte art, and hot chocolate for the kids. We sang holiday songs to close out the festival.
A week later, Ethan and his adult son and daughter joined us on Christmas morning for Donna’s home-cooked breakfast.
“I have news,” Ethan said as we enjoyed our croissants and bacon. “I’m officially in remission!”
We clapped and cheered.
“I have an announcement of my own,” Mom said. “When my father gave the Santa statue to me, he asked if StoryWorld could keep it for me. I’d like to give it to you, Ethan, with the same condition—that StoryWorld keep it on your behalf.”
“I have an even better idea,” I said. “I was going to commission a new statue anyway. Why don’t you keep the one you took…” I glanced at Mom, who nodded in agreement. “…and we’ll have our sculptor make the new one look like you. That way, forever and always, you will be our Santa Claus.”
Ethan tried to speak but was too choked up to say anything. Instead, he came over to my chair and kissed me on the head. Scott leaned over and kissed me on the lips. All this goodwill and kissing was almost enough to make me forget I was getting presents.
Almost.
THE END
If you liked “Probable Claus,” consider purchasing the first book in The Storybook Park Mysteries series, The Princess and the Poison.
Ashling Cleary, the owner and manager of a storybook theme park in Northern California, isn't exactly leading the fairy-tale life she'd always dreamed of. She's stress-stuffing herself like Jack Sprat's wife who could eat no lean, her happily-ever-after with her boyfriend isn't going as expected, and her employees are an unruly, if loveable, bunch of teens. Ashling hopes things will turn around when she lands the hot Hollywood actress Katrina Irvine to star in the lead of their summer Sleeping Beauty play. But when Katrina is murdered—right in the middle of a performance!—Ashling's luck goes from bad to worse. And when her best friend becomes the number one suspect, it's up to Ashling to figure out who the true killer is before anyone else comes to a not-so-fairy-tale ending in her park.
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