After several heartbeats of silence, Amelia moves to sit on the side of the bed, staring at me with her eyebrows drawn down and her head slightly cocked to the side. Silence isn’t a common occurrence between the two of us.
“Hopefully never, because that would mean I’d have to be around her again.”
“What’d she do to you, Mallory? What happened?”
“I overheard her telling Hunter he’d be better off without me. That we weren’t a good fit, I’d ruin any plans he had for his life, and he should find someone better. The next day, he broke up with me.”
“Did you talk to her about it? Surely, you misunderstood her words or why she said those things.”
“No, I didn’t talk to her, but I also didn’t misunderstand anything. She has always been controlling and domineering. She thinks she owns everyone and can rule them with an iron fist. One of my earliest memories of her was when she tried to break up my parents’ marriage. She never liked my mom when they were dating, and she liked her even less after they got married. There was a huge fight at our house—but my parents stuck together and told her to leave. They didn’t speak to her again for several years.”
“All that, and your mom is taking care of that woman willingly?”
“Gran came back and apologized for her behavior—but not for calling my mom a gold digger. I don’t even know why she would think that. I mean, my parents have nice things now, but they’ve worked for every dime they have. Dad isn’t rich by any means.
“But I remember that scene so well because I didn’t know what that term meant. I thought it was so cool that Mom was a gold digger, I took my toy shovel to the backyard and dug holes everywhere, looking for my own gold. Anyway, Gran agreed to stop spewing her vitriol about their marriage when she showed up on our doorstep one day, so they let her back into our family. She kept her word for the most part, other than some occasional indirect remarks.”
“Wow. Okay. So, when Hunter broke up with you, did you ask him about what she’d said?”
“No, I didn’t. He used her words almost verbatim. We weren’t right for each other. If we stayed together, we’d both regret it later. I’d find someone else and forget all about him. Everything had been fine between us just the day before, until he talked to Gran and listened to every word she said about me. He had every opportunity to explain what I’d heard and why he’d listened to her. But he didn’t. He walked out of my house and my life forever.”
“Not forever, Mal. He just walked into the restaurant and right back into your life tonight. Maybe this trip home will be your Christmas miracle on Main Street.”
“You are such a dork. And why do you keep taking his side? You’re supposed to be my best friend.” I sit down beside her and pull the pillow into my lap, hugging it to my chest.
“Mallory Alexandra Conner, I should wash your mouth out with soap for saying that. I have never and will never side with anyone over you. But you’ve barely dated anyone in the last four years I’ve known you. When some guy starts getting too close to you after a few dates, you find any reason under the sun to kick him to the curb.”
“You’re exaggerating, Meli.”
“No, I’m not. Remember Russell? You broke up with him because he poured the milk in the bowl before the cereal.”
“That was just weird, and you know it.”
“And Grant? You quit seeing him because of his toes.”
“Did you see his feet in sandals? His toes were like fingers! I can’t handle finger-like toes.”
“What about Ronnie? You didn’t like the way he kissed.”
“Noooo. He kissed just fine. It was the way he said ‘yummy’ after every kiss that I couldn’t handle. Don’t even try to tell me you’d put up with that for a week, much less a month.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one. My point is you haven’t exactly given another man a real chance to get to know you since Hunter. Maybe it’s not that you want him back as much as you want closure—for both your relationship with him and your grandmother.”
“So, you think I should confront him and demand answers while I’m here.”
“That sounds a little…aggressive. Maybe approach it more as a friendly talk to restore an old friendship and clear the air.”
“For the record, I like my plot of waterboarding, removing fingernails, and stringing him up by his balls better.”
“Duly noted. Keep those ideas in your back pocket in case you need a Plan B.”
We laugh together, and my mood lightens, the way it always does when my best friend puts my life back into perspective for me. “I feel sorry for everyone else in the world.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I have the best friend ever, and they don’t.”
“You’re not going to kiss me now, are you? That would just make things awkward. I’ve told you before, I love you, but not like that.”
“Shut up.”
“What did he say to you before we left the restaurant? I could tell he wanted a second alone with you, so I hung back a few steps to give you two a little privacy.”
“But only long enough for you to get me alone later?” I give Amelia the side eye, playfully questioning her motives.
“Exactly. Now quit stalling and spill it.”
“He didn’t say anything significant. Dad had just said he finally understood why Mr. Kirkman refused to play Santa anymore, and Hunter had a good laugh about it. Then he looked at me and said I should start thinking about what I’ll tell Santa I want for Christmas this year.”
“Funny guy. Everyone thinks they’re a comedian.”
A knock on the door immediately brings a smile to Amelia’s face. “That’s your mom bringing hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows before tucking us into bed.”
Who is this crazy person sitting beside me?
“Since when did you get in touch with your inner child?”
“Open the door, Mal. It’s hot chocolate. With tiny marshmallows. Chop, chop. You’re wasting time.” She motions toward the door, clearly over her concern for my imaginary love life.
“Come on in, Mom.” I take one of the cups from her and kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you for spoiling us.”
“You are so welcome. And I would gladly spoil you more if you came home more often.”
“Nice segue, Mom. Not obvious at all.”
“While I’m at it, your father and I recently had a talk, and we agree we’d both love to have a few grandkids soon.”
The hot chocolate gets stuck in my throat when I start nervously coughing. “Geez, Mom. That’s not funny. I may need skin grafts on my esophagus now.”
“Stop whining, Mallory. I’m still waiting for my hot chocolate.” Amelia narrows her eyes at me, daring me to take any more of Mom’s time.
“Here’s yours, Amelia. I put extra marshmallows in it for you, sweetie. I remember that’s how you liked it from our visit last Christmas.”
“Thank you, Mama Jackie. This is perfect.” Amelia puts on a good show of enjoying her drink—eyes closed, soft moans, and licking her lips. She’s such a ham.
“Sweetheart, I’ll be with Gran all day tomorrow, but when I get back, your dad and I will take you two girls out so we can show Amelia around our winter wonderland.”
“Since I’ve seen it a time or two, why don’t you take Amelia, and I’ll stay here?”
“If you don’t go with us, you can stay with Gran. Give her sitter a break.”
“That’s really cold, Mom.”
“So is trying to get out of spending time with your family, while you’re home to spend time with your family.”
“Being logical is so overrated. Fine. I’ll walk around town with you, in the freezing cold, with the horrible four-letter-word white precipitation all around us, and suffer through frostbitten fingers and toes.”
“You know, you really should’ve been an actress instead of going to college for early childhood education. You’re quite dramatic.” Mom smiles sweetly, but I know it
’s secretly a smile of triumph. I’ll choose the cold air of our little town over the cold heart of Gran any day.
“Everyone’s a comedian these days. Usually at my expense.”
“You just give us so much material.” Amelia smirks at me over the rim of her mug. Then she shifts her gaze to my mom. “Hey, Mama Jackie. Since Mr. Kirkman retired, do you think it’s safe for Mallory and me to sit in Santa’s lap while we’re here?”
“That can definitely be arranged. We’ve needed new Christmas pictures for a long time now. What a great idea, Amelia.”
“Yes. Thank you, Amelia, for that suggestion. I appreciate it so much. Remind me to show you how much when Mom isn’t around.”
Amelia’s smirk turns into a full belly laugh that she doesn’t even try to hide.
“Mallory, behave. Amelia is our guest.”
“Are you kidding right now, Mom?”
Mom smiles and pats my shoulder as she leaves the bedroom. When I turn my sights back to Amelia, she wiggles farther under the covers. “It’s so cozy here.”
“Yeah, I think you’re getting a little too comfortable.”
Chapter Four
Hunter
“How are you, Henry?” One of my carriage drivers arrives for work as I’m walking into the barn with a bale of hay.
“I’m good, Hunter. How’s it going?” He lovingly strokes the large black Percheron chomping on the hay. The love and care he shows the horses make me think about how much Henry must miss his wife. She passed away several years ago, so he works part time giving tourists sleigh rides to pass the time.
“All good. Looks like it’ll be a beautiful night for a sleigh ride.”
“Sure does. There’s snow on the ground around the lake, and the moon will be high in the sky. Perfect setting for all the lovebirds visiting us this year.”
“Do you need any help getting this big guy hitched up before I leave for Santa’s Village?”
“Nah, I’m fine. He’s my buddy. We have our routine down pat by now. Have fun on the guided ride with all the tourists.”
I leave Henry with the sleigh horses and meet my best friend Chad outside the barn. He has the trail horses all saddled and ready to go. The six tourists in today’s group are all from the same family, making my trip easier to manage. The kids will ride the most experienced trail horses in the middle of the pack, still tethered to the other horses to help keep them safe.
“Is everyone ready to go to Santa’s Village and see what his elves are making today?” I ask loudly as I approach.
“Yeah!” the kids yell in unison while jumping up and down.
“Well, get on your horses so we can go! What are you waiting for?”
“Chad said we had to wait for you, Hunter!” The smallest girl of the group smiles up at me. Her front two teeth are missing, making her even cuter.
With her shiny chestnut hair and snaggle-tooth smile, she reminds me of another little girl I used to know.
Chad and I double-check the horses’ tack before helping the family onto their assigned horses. I take the lead and Chad takes the rear as we set off up the mountain to Santa’s Village. While my family has owned and operated the horse sleigh rides around town for years, this is a new endeavor I started a couple of years ago. Even though the trail leads up the side of the mountain, it’s wide open and an easy climb for the horses. The road leading up to my new business is actually more dangerous in the winter than the horse trail is.
Santa’s Village is a year-round business, but the Christmas tourist season more than puts me in the black for the rest of the year. The Bavarian-themed buildings in the village are trimmed in small white lights. A large red sleigh stays parked right outside Santa’s Workshop, the main store in the park, so he can load the toys onto it as the elves finish them. A corral with eight reindeer is nearby, complete with a feeding station for the guests to get up close and personal.
The outdoor ice-skating rink was an expensive addition but more than worth the investment. It’s a miniature version of the outdoor rinks in several major cities that uses a special substance to keep the ice frozen at a consistent temperature all year. This specialized machinery opened up a whole new stream of revenue, especially when we started promoting Christmas in July at Santa’s Village. Business has been booming ever since, and I’ve worked my ass off day and night to make that happen.
When we reach the village, the kids are more than ready to jump off the horses and right into Santa’s lap. In this case, Santa is actually my dad, all dressed up and fluffed up in the middle. The line of kids waiting to tell Santa what they want for Christmas is long, and the first thing I notice about him is how he’s squirming in his chair. His back must still be acting up because he keeps moving every few seconds, unable to find a comfortable position.
“Chad, do you think you can get one of the other guys to help you take the group back down the mountain? Looks like I’ll have to help out Dad, after all.”
He turns and watches Dad for a couple of minutes then shakes his head. “I know exactly where you get your stubborn streak from—and he’s sitting right there. I’ll grab one of the elves from the barn to ride your horse back down. Don’t worry about us.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” With a pat on his shoulder, I walk off toward Santa. “Hey, kids, we need to borrow Santa for a minute. We’ve had a change in the Naughty and Nice List in the back, and we need his approval. He’ll be right back.”
Dad stands and looks around at the kids who start to groan in protest. “I hope none of your names are now on the Naughty List.” The groaning immediately stops, so Dad leaves the kids with his signature “Ho, ho, ho” laugh.
When we reach the back room, Dad removes the hat and beard. “Hey, Hunter. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, your back. You’re in pain—I can tell by the way you’re moving. You need to step out of the Santa suit and make an appointment with Dr. Kenrick. Let her help you get over this instead of just suffering through it.”
“I know you’re right. Denise is good at what she does. I’ll make an appointment with her first thing in the morning.”
“You’re definitely hurting worse than you’re admitting. You never willingly make an appointment with any kind of doctor. Take off the suit and give it to me. I’ll finish out the night as Santa for you. Sneak out the back door and take some pain medicine when you get home.”
After he sheds his costume, I throw it on and add extra stuffing to the middle before strolling out to Santa’s chair. The kids in line are getting antsy, ready to share their list of wishes, get their picture taken, and eat their candy. One after the other, the little tots climb up on my lap, their parents snap quick pictures with their phones, while our photographer captures the professional photos. I listen intently as each child describes the most coveted toy of the week.
Then I hear her voice.
“Amelia, you have to be joking. We’re not really sitting on Santa’s lap!”
“Oh yes, we are. I’m telling Santa what I want for Christmas this year, and so are you. By the way, you want a man. It’s been way too long, and you’re extra cranky because of it. Or, rather, lack of it.”
“Shut up.” Mallory starts to turn away, but Amelia catches her arm. “Amelia, I’m too old for this.”
The kid at the end of the line looks up at Mal. Though I can’t see his face, I hear his little voice plain as day. “You’re never too old to tell Santa what you want. How else will he know what to bring you for Christmas?”
She’s trapped. She can’t squash the dreams of a child by revealing the truth, so she’s forced to play along. And wait in line behind him. Mallory Conner is waiting in line to sit on my lap. My focus shifts to her, intently watching and waiting, to the point I have to force myself to listen to the kids.
Finally. After hours and hours of waiting—or minutes, same difference—she’s climbing the steps up the platform. A deep shade of crimson creeps up her neck and covers her face as she approaches. Sh
e refuses to meet my gaze, which is fine by me. That makes it less likely she’ll recognize me and bolt. She didn’t exactly give me a warm reception at dinner last night, although she seemed to tolerate my intrusion the longer we sat together. Thawing her heart won’t be easy, but I’m more than willing to warm her up.
Mallory squeezes her eyes shut when she bends her knees and slides onto my knee. I almost laugh because she’s barely touching me, holding most of her weight on her toes. The kids in line behind Amelia are pointing and giggling, but Amelia has zeroed in her focus on me. Recognition lights in her eyes and her lips part, as if she’s about to reveal my ruse. Then she shuts her mouth just as quickly, and her lips curl into a satisfied smirk.
Mallory tries to stay as far away from me as possible while fulfilling her promise to tell Santa what she wants for Christmas. But we can’t have that, can we? So, I wrap my arm around her waist and slide her across my leg until her body is flush against my chest. The old feelings stir deep inside, the same as they have every day since I lost her. Since I let her go. She feels soft yet firm, cold yet warm, near yet far.
“Would you like some sweeties, little girl?” I lean in close and whisper in her ear, mustering the best bedroom voice I have. “Now, tell Santa what you want, and I’ll make sure you get it.”
Her delayed reaction to my offer plays out like an animated character in a cartoon. It takes a few seconds before my words sink in, then her eyes grow wide. A couple more seconds and my voice registers, making her head swivel to look at me. Then her face contorts when she fully realizes who the man behind the beard is.
“Are you freaking kidding me right now? How dare you—”
“Now, now, little girl. That’s no way to talk to Santa. Especially this close to Christmas and in front of all the little kids.” I deepen my voice, allowing the bass to take over, and she clams up before she says something she can’t take back.
“Well, Santa, let me tell you exactly what I expect to find in my stocking this year. I want a super-charged rabbit to help me achieve what no man ever has.”
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