by Shirley Jump
He wasn’t.
But he was a professional, so he sucked it up, put on his happy Santa face and let the kids climb on him one at a time and recite long, drawn out lists. A few sat on his lap and started to cry, a few others just stared. One kid who was too old to still believe in Santa said he wanted a hookah. For a second, Cole thought he meant the streetwalking kind, then the kid peeled back his jacket and showed off a trio of flavored tobaccos.
"Yeah, I don’t think Santa has any of those on his sleigh," Cole said.
"Whatever. You creep me out anyway, old man." The kid turned to the camera, flashed a toothy smile, then walked away, while his mother gushed and beamed from the sidelines.
Cole sighed. He glanced at the line, snaking its way around the white picket fence, and wondered what he had done to deserve this special place in hell.
Three hours later, Kerrie and Terrie put up a couple of "Will Return At" plastic clocks, the hands set to one o’clock. Stephanie came up to Cole, and gestured toward the passageway he had emerged from earlier. "Lunch break, Santa."
"Thank God." He pushed out of the chair and held back a groan at the ache in his back. He needed the break from the kids. And a chance to talk to Stephanie. Just find out how she was doing, nothing more.
Uh-huh. He didn’t want to see her smile at him again. Didn’t wonder if the sparks between them still existed, still bordered on nuclear fusion. Okay, he did. But he also wanted to spend time with her because a part of him longed for the world that had enveloped Stephanie, a world so sweet and impossibly perfect, that Cole had often felt like he was on an episode of "The Waltons," complete with the two parents, picket fence and the dog.
He had grown up enough to know that nothing was truly that perfect but that didn’t stop him from missing what he’d never had—and only watched from the periphery.
Most of all, he missed her. A lot.
"Would you like to join me?" he asked Stephanie, giving her a grin that the damned beard hid from view. "We could grab a sandwich, share some carrots with Rudolph."
She shook her head. "Sorry, I have plans. Kerrie and Terrie will take you back to the break room."
Then she was gone, and he was left with the Doublemint twins, one of whom was talking litigation for elf abuse. Cole watched Stephanie go, and wondered why he cared so much about a woman he had thought he was over.
Stephanie sat at a small round red and white table designed to look like a half-eaten apple. A poly-formed core made for the basis of an apple umbrella while molded plastic inchworms undulated to form seats for the toddlers filling the food court. She picked at a platter of moo shu pork from a fast food Asian restaurant.
She thought of Cole, and his solo lunch back in the break room. What if she had taken him up on his offer? Would she be dredging up old history? Getting close to old temptations?
Truth be told, she was still tempted by him. Very, very tempted. How could the man still turn her on, even wearing a Santa suit and beard? Not to mention, after everything that had happened between them? The heartbreaking end to a relationship she had thought would last forever. Just when she’d needed Cole most, he’d left.
Granted, she had told him to go. She’d heard him raving about California and the career opportunities there, not to mention the freedom he would finally have, and she’d made up some story about needing to stay in Boston to work for a judge, while her heart broke and her vision blurred.
Six years had passed. She should be over him. Moved onward and upward and all that. One word, one smile, and those years had melted away. All over again, Stephanie was questioning whether she’d made the right decision back then.
Yes. She had. Late at night, when the house was quiet and the day was done, she knew in her heart that she had made the best choice. The only one.
She’d only have to work with Cole for a few days. Surely in that period of time, she could focus on her job and the reason she was here, and not on things that were better left dead and buried in the past.
She dug her phone out of her pocket and pressed the first speed dial button. As soon as her mother answered, Stephanie asked, "How's he doing?"
"Much better," her mother answered in a bright, chipper voice. "He had some chicken noodle soup and now he's beating me at checkers."
Stephanie laughed, and relief replaced the guilt she felt about being in the mall food court instead of at home. "I'm glad to hear it. Tell him I'm sorry I had to go to work instead of being there with him."
"Never apologize for doing the right thing for your child, honey," her mother said softly. "He knows you love him."
Yes, but her son didn't understand his mother taking on a second job. He didn't understand bills and tuition and car payments. All he knew was that he was sick and she wasn't there. "Give him an extra kiss for me, will you?"
"I'll do better than that. I'll give him two extra."
Helen's love for her grandson rang in every syllable. For years, her mother had been Stephanie’s rock, the one constant that she could depend upon. First, through the pregnancy, and now as the perfect grandma for Stephanie’s precious son. Stephanie had bought a duplex two doors down from her mother’s house, and knew it was one of the best decisions she’d ever made. She might be working in a bank instead of practicing law, but the returns on this investment were ten thousand times greater. Every morning, Stephanie thanked God for her amazing, beautiful son, and for the support system of family. From day one, her father had been just as supportive as her mother, the two of them spoiling their only grandchild until Dad’s death a couple years ago. Now Grandma kept up the indulgence, much to Joshua’s delight.
"How’s your day going?" Helen asked.
"Okay." She fiddled with the napkin under her cup. "I saw Cole today. He's the mall Santa."
"Cole? Here? But I thought he was in LA. Doing the actor thing."
"Me too. Must not have worked out so well if he's here, playing Santa." She told herself she didn’t care if his career had fizzled, or what had led him to take on this job. That she didn’t wonder if his left hand, hidden by the glove all day, bore a ring or not. That she hadn’t wondered about him a thousand times over the past few years.
"Did you talk to him?" Helen asked.
"A little."
"That's not what I meant, honey."
Stephanie sighed. She put a hand to her temple. "I know."
It was a familiar refrain, an argument her mother broached at least twice a year, around Joshua’s birthday and every major holiday. Cole had a right to know, Helen had said, more than once. And Stephanie had disagreed, more than once.
"You'll have to say something eventually."
"Why?" Stephanie scoffed. "Cole didn't care enough then. He's not going to care now."
Six years later and the words still rang in her head. I got it, Steph, I got my break. He’d taken her hands, the excitement blooming in his eyes. Let’s go to California. Heck, we can get married and everything. We’ll finally be far away from this place and be free to live the way we want. No rules, no expectations or ties, just us and the sun and the surf.
For a second, she’d considered the idea, then thought of the life inside her, growing even as they spoke. She’d looked at the houses behind her, the same house where she’d grown up, and where she had spent every holiday, every birthday. All she wanted was to provide that same stability to her own child. She’d told Cole she wanted to stay here, in Boston.
Stay? But why? There’s life in California, a life I want.
There’s a life here, too, she’d said. If you’ll stay and—
He shook his head. I have my ticket out of here. And I’m taking it.
So Stephanie had said goodbye, never telling Cole about their baby or the real reason she was staying in Boston. Cole couldn’t wait to be free, and the last thing she wanted to do was tie him down.
"You won't know if Cole cares unless you give him a chance," her mother said, interrupting Stephanie’s thoughts. "Besides, Joshua needs him."
"Joshua is just fine with you and me." It was what Stephanie had told herself over and over again. But as her son started kindergarten and started asking more questions, Stephanie wondered if she was doing the right thing by keeping him from his father, and vice versa.
A boy did need his father. No matter how many times Stephanie played catch or sat on the floor and built battleships out of Legos, it wasn’t the same as a dad doing those things, and she knew it. A thousand times she’d picked up the phone to call Cole and a thousand times, she put it down again.
She’d think of the way Cole had left all those years before. How he had told her that the white picket fence life she wanted would only weigh him down. It still stung, and told her that a man who saw a fence and a yard as too much weight would see a family as an impossible burden.
Her mother's silence was a quiet disagreement with Stephanie’s stance. "Well, I better get back to checkers before Joshua sneaks in a few kings behind my back."
"And I have to get back to work. I'll see you tonight, Mom. I'll be home in time to tuck Joshua in. Tell him to pick out a book to read."
Her mother laughed. "He did that first thing this morning. Same book as last night and the night before."
Stephanie chuckled. How many times had she read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas? Every time they finished, Joshua would run to the window, look outside and try to spy Santa’s sleigh in the sky, or reindeer prints on the snowy ground below the house. "I've just about got it memorized now."
"You should. It was your favorite, too. That little boy loves Christmas just as much as you do. He reminds me of everything that's special about the holiday."
"Me too, Mom. He’s the best gift anyone could ask for." Her son might have changed her life direction, but Stephanie would be forever grateful for the blessing of his cherubic face and his sweet, fierce love. Arguing law all day could never rival a bedtime kiss and a tight hug from a happy-go-lucky five-year-old.
And that was a gift Cole was missing out on. Because she had chosen to keep their baby a secret. Was it the right choice? Some days she would say yes, other days, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she owed it to Cole to make that choice himself.
After Stephanie finished her call, she got to her feet and tossed away her trash. She headed down the mall corridor, weaving among the shoppers, laden with bags and shopping lists. As she turned right toward Santa's Village, Cole emerged from the hidden door between Aeropostale and Bath & Body Works, with Kerrie close by his side for crowd control.
"Right this way, Santa," Kerrie said.
Cole saw Stephanie and pivoted his oversized red velvet covered body in her direction. The Santa image still disconcerted her, especially when paired with those hot blue eyes she remembered, right above the white beard of the childhood icon. All day long, she’d found herself fantasizing about what was under the red suit. She’d thought more than once about unbuttoning that jacket, tugging down the pants, then tossing Cole onto the fiberfill snow mountains behind the gingerbread house. It felt almost…naughty to be so attracted to him. That only made her want him more, damn it.
God, she needed a drink. Or something fattening and sugary. Anything to take her attention off the one man in the world she knew better than to fall for. Again.
Kerrie stepped through the doorway, holding the heavy steel door for Cole. Across from them, a whoop went up from the waiting kids who had spied the red suit and beard. "Santa, we need to—"
"I need a minute." Cole moved away from Kerrie and before Stephanie could react, he'd taken her hand and ducked back inside the secret hall. As the door shut, disappointed children shouted "Santa!" and Kerrie let out a surprised squeak.
"What are you doing?" Stephanie said. "We need to—"
He put a gloved finger over her lips. Even through the white fabric, she could feel his touch and damn it all, it made her want to melt into him. One simple touch like that and she remembered what it was like to have him trail that finger down her body, slipping down the valley between her breasts, riding along the curve of her waist, then down between her legs, a long, hot tease until he finally, finally, touched her. One finger inside her, then another, and in a few fast, hard strokes, she was writhing beneath him. Cole had always known exactly how and when to touch her and no man since had measured up. That’s what came from losing her virginity to a man like him—no other lover ever met the high standards set by Cole Benson.
She swallowed hard. "Cole, we can’t—"
"We need to talk."
Talk? She’d been thinking sex. Lots of it. With Cole. Right here. Right now. What the heck had been in that moo shu pork anyway? She turned away before he read her mind. "I have nothing to say to you."
Kerrie tried to poke her head in again, but Cole grabbed the handle and kept the door shut. "That's not what you wrote in your letter."
Oh shit. Her face heated. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. He had received it. And worse, read it. All this time, she’d thought maybe the letter had gotten lost in the mail or ended up in the trash with the Lands End catalog and Red Cross pleas for blood donors.
"I was drunk." She let out a little laugh, as if it didn’t bother her one bit. "Lesson learned: never drink and stamp."
"Was it true?"
"Was what true?" She scrambled to remember what she had written. Had she told him about Joshua? No, she hadn’t. She’d written something long and rambling about love and soul mates and second chances, she knew that much. Stephanie remembered telling her friends that if Cole loved her, he’d respond. She hadn’t wanted him to return because of Joshua—
She’d wanted him to come back because of her. Because he loved her.
That truth hit Stephanie hard, and she realized a part of her still wanted him to drop to his knees, beg for her forgiveness and ask her to take him back. For him to say he’d been a fool, an idiot for letting her get away, and that he couldn’t imagine living one more day without her.
She clearly watched way too many movies.
"That letter was a long time ago," she said. "I hardly remember what I wrote."
Kerrie banged on the door, calling to Santa in a panicked, high-pitched voice. The Christmas Muzak shifted to "Joy to the World," the instrumental version. In the confined space of the cold, gray concrete hall, Cole stayed where he was, his gaze riveted on Stephanie’s.
"You said you still loved me. And you wanted me back." Cole could still see the words, written in Stephanie's precise script, blue ink on pink paper. He'd told himself it was just a letter but standing here now, with the sweet vanilla notes of her perfume wrapping around them, he knew he hadn't taken this job just to please some exec at Holiday Pictures. He'd done it for this, for the chance to see Stephanie again, to find out if he had left something important behind all those years ago. He released the door and took a step forward. "You said something about—"
Terrie/Kerrie, he had no idea which one she was, stuck her head in the door and gave him a disapproving frown. "Santa, the kids are waiting."
"Just give me a minute, Terrie."
The girl nodded. "Okay. Oh, and I'm Kerrie. My sister went home. She was wicked traumatized by this morning. She was almost trampled, you know. But don't worry. We, like, got a replacement elf."
"Good." Was the woman ever going to leave?
"Oh, and Santa, I heard Mr. Dexter himself is coming by today. He owns the whole mall, you know, and like, that makes him super important. Oh em gee, I'm so nervous."
Damn. Dexter. Cole warred between getting out there to please the man who held his career in his hands, and staying here to finally find out what had gone wrong with the woman who held his heart in her hands.
Cole couldn’t afford to screw this up, and piss off the guy who was considering him for a role. Dexter—and this gig playing Santa—was Cole’s way back to the life he’d almost lost, and he needed to keep his eye on that ball.
"We can talk after work," he said to Stephan
ie.
She shook her head. "I'm meeting someone. Someone I've been looking forward to seeing all day. Sorry."
A flare of jealousy sparked in Cole's chest but before he could ask if that meant Stephanie had a boyfriend, Kerrie opened the door and Cole did what he’d been trained to do—he slipped into character, ho-ho-ho-ing his way through the crowd.
"Chubby Chum Stephanie!"
Stephanie heard the words, then a second later, she was enveloped in a tight green felt hug. She laughed, then drew back. "Arnold! What are you doing here?"
"I'm your new elf!" He opened his arms and stepped back, a six-foot-two tree of green and red. He’d hit his goal weight a year ago, but kept going to the meetings and offering his enthusiastic and vocal support to the other members of the Chubby Chums.
The group had started several years ago, in the basement of a church in the North End. Stephanie had been a charter member, then became leader as her own weight loss progressed. Success stories like Mary Louise Zipparetto and Maria del Rossi abounded, but really, the best part of the Chubby Chums had been the friendships that had sprung up among the members, many of whom kept coming long after the pounds came off. Friends like Arnold, who was a little quirky, but personified warm and fuzzy.
"Ted and I are going to Cancun for the holidays," Arnold said, "so I'm here earning a little extra margarita money." He let out a gasp and cupped a hand over his mouth, sliding a glance at the kids in line. "I mean to buy more carrots for Rudolph."
"Of course. Carrots for Rudolph." Stephanie gave him a grin, then they slipped into place on either side of Cole while Kerrie shepherded children through the line. Stephanie glanced over at Arnold, and for the first time since she’d seen Cole, she relaxed. Having an ally here eased some of the tension in the air.
When Cole cornered her in the hallway earlier, she’d almost told him about Joshua. She’d been feeling vulnerable, weakened by the call home and the bad Chinese food. Over the course of the day, she’d seen him handle the influx of kids with patience and warmth, even though he clearly wasn’t comfortable with little ones yet. She’d begun to wonder if maybe he’d have that same patient manner with his own son.