Breakfast With Santa

by Pamela Browning

  OF COURSE HE WOKE HER the next morning with breakfast in bed. As an additional surprise, he wore a Santa Claus cap.

  She started to giggle as soon as he appeared. “What’s the cap about?” she asked. “It’s not Christmas anymore. In fact, it’s closer to Valentine’s Day.”

  He set the tray down beside her and sat on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to put us both in mind of that wonderful December morning when I first fell in love.”

  “I didn’t love you. You came across as a jerk.”

  “Keep in mind that I wasn’t in a good mood at the time. I wanted to wring Leanne’s neck for getting me into that situation.”

  “I didn’t much care for the elf outfits she made the helpers wear, either.”

  “I like you better with no clothes at all. Like now.” He caressed her bare shoulder.

  She pulled the sheet up. “I’d better eat in a hurry and get back to the hospital. I can hardly wait to bring Mitchell home.”

  “Hospital checkout isn’t until eleven o’clock. I asked. So you have plenty of time to eat a few pancakes.”

  “You shouldn’t have,” she protested as he settled the tray on her lap, but they were blueberry, her favorite.

  “This morning, I wanted to remind you of the day we met,” Tom said. “It was the beginning of us, Beth.”

  She sensed an uncommon seriousness in his words. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.

  “I already have.”

  “What’s that behind your back?” She leaned slightly sideways to see what he was concealing.

  Tom’s lips clamped together in an unsuccessful effort to suppress a smile. “It’s a gift.”

  “Why? It’s not Christmas or my birthday.” She nonchalantly stabbed another piece of pancake with her fork.

  “Maybe you can think of another special occasion, although it hasn’t exactly happened yet.”

  “What in the world are you hiding, Tom?”

  “Nothing ever again,” he said with a rueful laugh. He produced a clumsily wrapped package and handed it to her.

  “May I open it?”

  “You sure can.”

  She tore off the sloppily tied ribbon, which looked suspiciously as if it had been used before. The paper ripped away easily, as well, considering that it was only taped in one place. A white box presented itself, and she lifted the lid.

  Inside was something made of ceramic. Two somethings, actually, and she pulled them free of tissue paper to hold them up for inspection.

  “Heart bookends!” she exclaimed. “They’re so pretty.” Each bookend was a bright red half heart resting on a wooden base.

  “I found those in the hospital gift shop and bought them to replace some of the hearts in your collection that got broken. When I consulted with Mitchell, he agreed that you’d like these.”

  “Tom, that’s very sweet of you,” she said, smiling at him.

  He took the bookends from her and held them so that they touched. “Together, the two halves make a whole heart.” He moved them slightly away from each other. “Apart, each half can stand independently. This is my idea of how a good marriage should work. When together, beautiful and strong. When apart, able to stand alone.”

  Beth picked up a book from the nightstand and placed it between the bookends. “Also, quite capable of supporting something else when working toward the same goal,” she said, thinking of children, or running a home, or pursuing a dream. She had an idea where this was going, and she didn’t want to rush the moment. She wanted to savor it as long as possible.

  Tom replaced the hearts carefully in their box and the book on the nightstand before tipping her face toward his. “There’s one more heart I want you to have, Beth. Mine. Will you marry me?”

  She was mindful of the gravity of Tom’s request and the earnestness with which he spoke, but the Santa cap was so incongruous. Not that his appearance rendered this marriage proposal in any way unwelcome to her ears.

  “Of course I’ll marry you,” she said demurely.

  “You’ve made up your mind just like that?”

  “You didn’t expect an argument, did you? And when are you going to kiss me?”

  He began to smile and quickly enveloped her in his embrace. Her head settled into its customary position in the hollow of his shoulder, and when she tilted her head back for his kiss, she saw that the Santa cap had slipped down over one eye. She reached up and adjusted it.

  “My darling Beth,” Tom said unsteadily. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too. And Mitchell thinks you’re wonderful.”

  “You know what he asked me yesterday? If I already had kids. He said that if I didn’t, could I please be his other dad? What could I do? I told him yes.”

  “Tom, I—”

  He stopped her from talking by placing a gentle finger over her lips. “I intend to be the best stepfather ever,” he said. “I’m going to take Mitchell to ball games and shoot basketballs with him in the driveway, and I’ll make sure he’s a good rider, and teach him how to lasso—”

  “You’ll be what he wanted for Christmas,” Beth said, her eyes sparkling. “A live-in daddy.”

  “When he asked for a father at Breakfast with Santa, I told him I couldn’t bring him one. I guess I didn’t say that I couldn’t be one.”

  They laughed over that, and then they kissed. Somehow, afterward, the Santa hat ended up on the floor along with all of Tom’s clothes. That was okay, because they didn’t have to pick up Mitchell for another two hours—plenty of time to seal their intentions with more than a kiss.

  AS THEY DROVE TO THE HOSPITAL LATER, Tom glanced over at Beth. She had fastened her hair back with a barrette. Wispy tendrils covered her small pink ears, and she wore little makeup. In Tom’s eyes, she was the most beautiful she’d ever been in her life, but maybe that was because of their new commitment and direction.

  He cleared his throat. He wanted to talk to her about something that he considered important.

  “About Mitchell,” he began as she raised her eyebrows questioningly. “If I’m going to be his live-in daddy, I can’t call him Mitchell. A kid deserves a nickname.”

  “I’ve never cared for nicknames,” Beth began doubtfully, but he shook his head.

  “Mitchell might prefer one.”

  “The three of us could discuss it,” Beth said.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  She squeezed his hand. “No, I’ve learned a lot from my husband-to-be about bringing up boys,” she said. “And I have a feeling that I’m going to learn a lot more.”

  He smiled at that and pulled into the hospital parking lot. After he’d slotted the pickup into an empty space, they took time for a quick kiss before entering the building.

  “The elevator’s full,” Beth said as she spotted people piling into it at the other end of the lobby. “Let’s use the stairs.”

  Then, holding hands and running up the steps like two carefree kids with the best secret in the world, they hurried to tell Mitchell their wonderful news.

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Mitchell—who wanted to be called Mac now—sang at the top of his lungs while Beth put the finishing touches on her makeup for her wedding.

  “Here comes the bride

  All dressed in white,

  There goes the groom

  As he hides out of sight!”

  “I hope not,” Chloe said as she handed Beth a pot of eye-shadow. “Dab this frosty stuff under your eyebrows,” she suggested. “It’ll give you that dewy bridal glow.”

  “Do I need ‘dewy bridal glow’?” Beth asked.

  “Go for it.”

  “Is everyone here yet?” The wedding was being held in Beth’s backyard on one of the most beautiful days of spring. Beth and Tom would exchange their vows under the grape arbor, and guests had been arriving for the past half hour.

  Chloe peeked out the window. “Eddie is bringing more folding chairs from Leanne’s SUV.”


  Mitchell picked up Beth’s eyebrow pencil and experimentally poked the tip with a finger.

  “Stop that, son,” Beth said. “You’ll make a mess.”

  Mitchell dropped the pencil and clasped his hands behind his back. He and Tom had convinced Beth that it wasn’t a good idea for him to wear the blue velvet suit that she’d made him for the pancake breakfast, and it was true that he’d almost outgrown it. Beth had nixed the sweatshirt-and-favorite-jeans alternative Mitchell had suggested, and they had compromised on a rented ringbearer’s outfit similar to the suit Tom was wearing. This morning Mitchell had proclaimed happily that the rented clothes didn’t itch. He and Tom had exchanged an exuberant high five over this, which Beth didn’t understand at all.

  “Five minutes,” Leanne said, popping her head in the door. Her eldest daughter, Madelon, was going to play “The Wedding March” on a piano that Beth had rented for the occasion.

  “What’s Tom doing?” Beth asked. She studied her reflection in the mirror, liking the way the pale-peach-colored gown showed off her figure. It had cap sleeves and a scoop neckline, and the bodice tapered to a bell-shaped skirt.

  “Eddie took him out behind the garage to bolster Tom’s resolve with a talk. Not that Tom needs it, Beth. I’ve never seen anyone more eager to be married in my life.” Leanne hurried away to the kitchen to supply plenty of jalapeño cheese puffs for the reception.

  Chloe judiciously twitched her own ice-blue gown into place over her hips. “I’m glad you chose a dress I can wear again,” she said as she turned to study the back.

  “Maybe it will come in handy for one of those society balls in Palm Beach,” Beth told her. “I’ll bet your cousin’s godmother will make sure you’re invited.”

  “Fat chance,” scoffed Chloe. “Anyway, when I get to Florida, it won’t be the social season. Summer is boring there, from what I can tell.”

  “Not if you meet someone,” Beth pointed out.

  “Never going to happen,” Chloe said.

  “That’s what I said, Chlo, and I’m a bride!”

  “And a gorgeous one.”

  Maddy played the first bars of “The Wedding March,” and Chloe handed Mac the pillow with the ring tied to it. “You go first, then me, then your mom,” she told him.

  Beth had decided not to be escorted down the aisle, since there wasn’t really anyone to do it except Eddie, who had offered but certainly had his hands full keeping tabs on his five children while Leanne was supervising food preparation.

  With Mac leading the way, the three of them filed through the foyer to the kitchen, where cookie sheets filled with jalapeño cheese puffs and miniature quiches and other goodies covered every surface. Chloe, in front of Beth, looked elegant, her hair all one color for a change.

  When Beth glanced out the window over the sink, she saw Tom waiting for her under the arbor, beside the pastor. “Mitchell,” she said to her son, “do you know what you’re supposed to do?”

  “Mac,” he corrected, sounding surprisingly grown-up. “I’m Mac now. All I have to do is hold up the pillow so Mr. Holcomb can untie the ring and give it to Tom, right?” He and Tom and Divver had worked out an elaborate system of signals beforehand.

  “That’s right, sweetheart.” She leaned down. “How about a good-luck kiss?”

  Mac smooched her on the cheek. “You sure are pretty, Mom.” He beamed at her.

  “Thanks, Mac. All right,” said Beth. “I’m ready.”

  Mac opened the back door and began to walk ceremoniously toward the arbor. Chloe was smiling brightly as she followed. And then Beth, her eyes never wavering from Tom’s, walked—or maybe floated—past her assembled guests. Patty Holcomb was sitting beside Chloe’s sister, Naomi, and her three daughters. Gretchen and Julie, with their husbands, occupied the second row. Even Richie had driven all the way from Oklahoma, and with him was Starla, holding their baby in her lap. Allen and Corinne were there, too, and, in fact, Corinne had baked the wedding cake.

  When Beth joined Tom under the arbor, he bent and kissed her cheek, then drew her close as the pastor began the ceremony.

  Everything proceeded almost flawlessly, except that Divver dropped Beth’s wedding band, which disappeared under Jeremiah’s seat in the first row. While Jeremiah was retrieving it, everyone had a chance to admire the bride’s dress and to remark upon how handsome Tom was. After the minister finally pronounced them husband and wife, the newly married couple kissed for so long that the bride’s son could be heard uttering an impatient sigh. This had the effect of putting an immediate end to the embrace, and Beth was blushing as she and Tom turned to face their friends and neighbors.

  “Now can we have some cake?” Mitchell was heard to whisper to Tom, who only laughed and ruffled his hair.

  The top layer of the wedding cake was adorned with three figures—Beth, Tom and Mac—instead of the customary two. At first Mac had lobbied to include a model of a dog, but Tom had objected, claiming that since they didn’t have the dog yet, it wouldn’t be right.

  While Beth and Tom were cutting the cake, Mac opined that since Dallas had recently given birth and they were going to adopt one of the pups, it would too have been fair to include a dog figure. Beth shushed him, and then she and Tom fed each other their ceremonial slices, after which Mac told his friend Jeremiah in a very loud voice that when the puppy came to live with them, it was going to be named Blackie.

  “Wait a minute,” Tom said, picking up on this. “Those puppies are all the same color as Dallas. They’re yellow. Blackie isn’t a good name for a yellow dog.”

  “We could name the dog Goldie.”

  “Topaz?” Beth said. “Would you go for Topaz?”

  “That’s kind of a neat name,” Mitchell agreed.

  It was a long time before Tom managed to get Beth to himself in a corner of the backyard. “How does it feel to be Mrs. Collyer?” he asked her playfully.

  “Wonderful,” she sighed, fitting into the curve of his arm.

  They watched Mac playing with Jeremiah, Ryan and some of his other friends. The boys were engaged in a rousing game of hide-and-seek in the shrubbery at the side of the house, thankfully staying well away from the other guests.

  “It was a nice touch,” Tom said. “Having a figure of Mac on top of our cake to symbolize that we’re now a family.”

  “At least I talked him out of the dog,” Beth said with a grin.

  “It’s funny how insistent he was about that,” replied Tom. Beth turned to Tom and slid her arms around his neck while gazing deep into his eyes. “Actually, there could have been another figure on top of the cake, but I wasn’t ready to announce it yet.”

  Tom cocked his head in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

  “That there are going to be four of us before long. You, me, Mac…and the new baby.”

  “A baby?”

  She nodded solemnly. “I wasn’t sure until this week, but it’s true.”

  “A baby! Oh, Beth, that’s wonderful, honey.” And then he crushed her to him for a kiss that held all his love and hopes for them as a couple. No, as a family. Because that was what they were now, and would be forever.

  “I love you, Beth. And I love our baby already.”

  She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Beth rested her head against Tom’s broad chest and considered how lucky she was that she would be having breakfast with this particular Santa for the rest of her life.

  From the Farish Tribune the following December:

  Here ’n’ There in Farish

  by Muffy Ledbetter

  Nothing makes me happier than to report a new little Farish resident. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Collyer and their son, Mac McCormick, announce the birth of a daughter and sister, Noelle Elizabeth, at the Bigbee County Hospital on Christmas Day. Yes! That’s right, on December 25! Noelle must be a really special Christmas package to arrive on that day of the year in a season that already means so much to Tom and Beth. The new parents met at Breakfast with Santa last year.

&
nbsp; Mac is thrilled with his new sister. He wanted to name her Blackie but finally agreed that Noelle was a prettier name. Beth says that she’ll soon be back to work at her Bluebonnet Interiors, so y’all call her if you need any draperies or bedspreads or things like that. She’s turned her bungalow out on the highway into a decorating studio, since the Collyers have moved into Tom’s newly renovated house to have more room for their growing family. As for the daddy, he’s proud as punch and continues to do good work in the ATTAIN program at the Holcomb Ranch.

  In my other news, Chloe Timberlake, who left Farish a few months ago to start a new life in Florida, hasn’t exactly disappeared from our radar screen. You remember Chloe, who makes that beautiful jewelry from sea glass (I admit to buying a few pieces myself.) Well, you’ll never believe what the former Farishite says about her new life. It seems that she met The One down there in the Sunshine State, and I’ll be telling you more about that soon.

  Remember, if you have any news to share about our friends and neighbors, give me a call on my cell phone, the number of which you’ll find at the end of this column.

  Till next time, I’ll be seeing you here ’n’ there in Farish. Happy New Year, everybody!

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6954-8

  BREAKFAST WITH SANTA

  Copyright © 2005 by Pamela Browning.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.