Romancing the Holidays Bundle 2009

by Susan Wiggs et al

  “And Stephen?” he asked hopefully. His younger brother had no traditions that Nick had ever noticed. No family, either. In fact, he was the DiCaprio black sheep, but surely Trish could corral him for the day. She was the only one in the family who seemed to understand his need for rebellion. In return Stephen did things for her that no one else could persuade him to do. She could even coerce him into showing up for holiday meals and tolerating their mother fussing over him.

  “I actually spoke to Stephen. He’s a little hung over,” she admitted. “I don’t think that’s a good quality for a Santa.”

  Nick regretted not getting drunk when he’d had the chance. “Okay, fine,” he said, his tone grim. “What exactly do you need from me?”

  “Isn’t that obvious? I need you to substitute for Santa,” Trish said sweetly, obviously sensing victory. “It won’t be hard. Just a few ho-ho-ho’s for the kids. Listen to their gift lists. Don’t make any promises. Get your picture taken. That’s all.”

  “How long?”

  “I need you here ASAP and the mall’s open till six. It’s a few hours, Nick. How bad can it be?”

  It sounded like hell. “Come on, Trish. This is so not me. There has to be someone else,” he pleaded. “Don’t they have agencies for this kind of thing? Rent-a-Santa or something?”

  “Are you nuts? It’s Christmas Eve. All the good Santas are already working. I don’t have time to hunt down the last remaining qualified Santa in all of North Carolina. And why should I, when you have absolutely nothing to do today? Please, Nick. You’re good with kids.”

  Once upon a time he had considered himself to be good with kids. He’d been a doting uncle to Rob’s kids, taking the older boys to ball games, even babysitting Annie a time or two. But after what had happened with freckle-faced Tyler Hamilton less than a month ago, Nick didn’t trust himself to be within a hundred miles of a child. He didn’t even want to be anywhere near Rob’s kids this Christmas, at least not without backup.

  Still, despite his reservations, somewhere deep down inside—very deep down—he wondered if this wouldn’t be a chance for some sort of redemption. He hadn’t been able to do much to help Tyler, so he could spend all day today making up for it.

  No, he thought wearily, this was more like payback. Like some sort of giant cosmic joke, asking a man with his complete and total lack of holiday cheer to spend a whole day faking it for the sake of a bunch of greedy little brats.

  “You’ll owe me,” he told his sister eventually.

  “No question about it,” she agreed. “Won’t that be a nice change?”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “I have a list of the favors I’ve done for you, big brother, beginning with getting you your dream date with Jenny Davis.”

  “You did not get me a date with Jenny,” he snapped, thinking of the redheaded teenager who’d been able to twist his insides into knots at seventeen.

  “Did, too. She wouldn’t give you the time of day, till I told her what a terrific guy you are. I also offered to loan her my cashmere sweater and to give her my new Kenny Chesney CD.”

  “You bribed her?” he demanded incredulously. If that wasn’t the most humiliating piece of news he’d heard lately, he thought with a shake of his head.

  “It was the least I could do for my favorite brother,” she said.

  “Well, given how badly that relationship turned out, I wouldn’t be bringing it up now, if I were you,” he muttered. Jenny, whom he’d dated all through his senior year in high school only to be dumped by her the day before prom, had been the first in a long string of disastrous mistakes he’d made when it came to women. At least Trish hadn’t had a hand in any of the rest. He’d made those absurd choices all on his own.

  “Not to worry, Nicky. My list of the favors I’ve done for you goes on and on. I keep it posted right beside my desk for times like this,” she said cheerfully. “See you in an hour. Come to my office. I have Santa’s costume here. This is going to be fun.”

  “Torture,” he mumbled. “It’s going to be torture.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Love you, Nicky.”

  Normally he would have echoed his sister’s sentiment, but at the moment he was more inclined to throttle her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE PARKING LOT at King’s Mall was already a zoo by the time Amy had showered, dried her hair, packed up the kids and found it after taking several wrong turns. A line of cars waited at the entrance and more inched up and down each aisle looking fruitlessly for someone who might be about to leave. Heavy, dark clouds were looming overhead, almost completely blocking the sun. She couldn’t be sure if they were threatening rain or even snow. Though snowfall here was rare, it certainly felt cold and raw enough for it to Amy.

  Just a year ago, when she’d been eight months pregnant with Emma and totally exhausted, she’d still felt the excitement of the last-minute holiday crush. Today, all she felt was tired, and the gloomy sky wasn’t helping.

  “Over there,” Josh shouted from the backseat. “Mom, see that lady with all the bags? She’s gonna leave. You can get there.”

  Amy spotted the woman two aisles over. “Sweetie, there are already half a dozen cars waiting for that space. Don’t worry. We’ll find one. It’s always like this on Christmas Eve. We just have to be patient.”

  “What if Santa’s not even here?” Josh asked worriedly. “I mean, he’s in Michigan, right? How can he be in two places at once?”

  “He’s here. I called.”

  “Maybe he gets off early on Christmas Eve, you know, so he can start flying all over the world. We usually go first thing in the morning back home, then Dad and me shop to buy your presents.”

  Amy bit back a grin at her pint-size worrier. That, at least, was a trait he’d gotten from her. It probably wasn’t the best one she could have shared. “I checked on that, too,” she told him. “Santa will be here till the mall closes at six.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Two-thirty. We have lots of time.”

  “Not if we don’t find a parking place soon,” Josh warned grimly.

  Amy was forced to admit, she was beginning to have her doubts about that ever happening, too. People were nuts. Two cars were currently in a standoff over a space in the next aisle, both so determined to grab it that the poor driver trying to get out couldn’t even move.

  “People in Michigan were nicer,” Josh declared from the back.

  “No, they weren’t. These people are nice, too. Everyone gets a little stressed out on Christmas Eve.” A fat drop of rain splatted on the windshield and her mood deteriorated even further. She envisioned whatever bug she’d had this morning turning into pneumonia.

  “I’ll bet Santa won’t come see them,” Josh predicted direly. “Not when they say bad words and stuff. Look at that guy over there. He said something bad and he did that thing with his finger that you told me never, ever to do.”

  Amy regretted that her five-year-old had ever seen that gesture, but unfortunately it had been one of his father’s routine actions behind the wheel. She’d been forced to discuss its inappropriateness on numerous occasions.

  “I think that’s enough play-by-play commentary on the parking lot,” she told Josh just as a space right in front of her opened up. The driver even backed up in a way that guaranteed Amy would be the one to get it, then waved cheerfully as she drove off.

  “See, she was nice,” she told her cynical son. “Now let’s get your sister into her stroller and go see Santa before it really starts raining.”

  Unloading the stroller, then getting Emma settled into it took time. Emma liked being carried. She hated the stroller…or thought she did. She kicked and screamed until Amy thought her head would split. Once she was in, though, and they were moving, Emma beamed up at Amy with the sort of angelic smile that made Amy wonder if she’d imagined all those heart-wrenching sobs only moments before. That was the joy of E
mma. She could switch moods in a heartbeat.

  As they reached the mall entrance, Amy gazed directly into Josh’s eyes. “No running off, okay?” she said sternly. “You don’t know this mall, so you have to stay with me and hold on to my hand.”

  “Mom!” he protested. “I’m not a baby.”

  “It’s either that or we go right back home,” she said in her most authoritative, no-nonsense tone. “I don’t want you getting lost on Christmas Eve.”

  He rolled his eyes, but he took her hand. As soon as they were inside, he began to hurry her along past the shoe stores, lingerie shop, dress boutiques, cell phone kiosks and jewelry stores. Amy thought it was ironic that with all the big-name chain stores in the mall, it seemed every bit as familiar as anyplace they’d shopped back home. Maybe that’s why Josh thought he knew where he was going.

  When she was tempted to linger in front of a toy store, Josh barely spared a glance at the games in the window, then tugged her back into motion.

  “Mom, come on,” he urged. “Santa’s gotta be right up here. See all those people? He’s there. I know it! Hurry.”

  “Sweetie, he’s not going anywhere. Slow down.”

  “We gotta get in line, Mom,” he countered. “I’ll bet it’s really, really long.”

  Before Amy could argue with that, with some sort of child’s radar, Josh spotted Santa.

  “There he is,” he shouted. “See, Mom. He’s right there in the middle of all those Christmas trees! It’s like a whole Santa’s workshop around him.” His eyes lit up. “Wow! That is totally awesome! It’s better than anything I ever saw in Michigan! Did you bring the camera? We gotta send pictures to Dad.”

  His excitement was contagious. Even Emma seemed captivated by the glittering sea of lights ahead.

  “I gotta see,” Josh declared.

  And with that he let go of Amy’s hand and bolted into the frenzied crowd that was swirling all around between Amy and Santa.

  It took less than a second for him to disappear in the crush of people. Excitement and anticipation died. Panic clawed its way up the back of Amy’s throat. Instinctively, she gathered Emma out of her stroller and clung to her as she shouted over and over for Josh, pushing her way through the crowd, the stroller abandoned.

  Most people were oblivious to her cries, but finally a young woman stopped, alarm on her face.

  “What’s happened?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on Amy’s arm. “Can I help?”

  Amy was shaking so hard, she couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

  “It’s okay,” the young woman soothed. “Take a deep breath and tell me. I’m Trish DiCaprio.” She gestured toward her name tag. “I work for the mall. What can I do to help?”

  “My son,” Amy whispered. “He spotted Santa and took off and now I can’t find him. There are so many people and we don’t know anyone here and he’s never been in this mall before.” She was babbling now, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  “When did you lose track of him?”

  “A minute ago at the most.”

  “Then he can’t have gone far. It’s going to be okay,” Trish reassured her. “My brother is playing Santa. In real life he’s a cop. He’ll know exactly what to do. I’ll talk to him and we’ll find your son in no time. Will you be okay right here for a minute till I can get to him?”

  Amy nodded. She was clinging so tightly to Emma that the baby began to whimper. Someone appeared at her side just then with the stroller. Dazed, Amy stared at it, wondering where on earth she’d left it.

  “I saw your boy take off and then you ran after him and left this behind,” the woman said, her voice gentle. Her blue eyes were filled with concern. “Are you okay? Shall I stay with you till that young woman comes back?”

  Tears stung Amy’s eyes at the kindness in the woman’s expression. “Thank you for rescuing the stroller. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You were just trying to catch up with your boy. What’s his name?”

  “Josh.”

  “Oh, my,” the woman said with a smile. “I have a Josh, too. Of course, he’s all grown-up now.” She gave a rueful shake of her head. “My kids used to pull this kind of stunt on me all the time when they were small. Trust me, they all turned up. Now they have children of their own putting them through the same thing. What do they call that? Karma, isn’t it?” She patted Amy’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry. Your boy will be back any minute. He’ll probably find you before they can even get a search going.”

  She spoke with such conviction that Amy felt her panic slowly ease. “You’re very kind. I really appreciate it. If you need to get your shopping finished, I’ll be okay now.”

  “I have time,” she said. “I’m Maylene Kinney, by the way. I’ll just wait with you till that nice young woman comes back with help. I heard you say that you’re new to Charlotte. Is that right?”

  Amy nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Amy. Amy Riley.”

  “Well, welcome, Amy. I know this isn’t the way to get off to a good start in a new place, but you will laugh about it someday, I promise you that.” She smiled. “Maybe not till that boy of yours is grown and his son is doing something just as bad, but you will laugh.”

  Maylene’s soft, Southern voice and friendly chitchat kept the panic at bay, at least for now, but Amy couldn’t seem to stop searching the crowd for some sign of Josh. She ought to be looking for him, not just standing around waiting. She was always so careful to make sure he stayed in sight, to hold tight to his hand in unfamiliar surroundings. Now he could be anywhere, with anyone. This was her worst nightmare come true.

  Her imagination immediately went into overdrive, envisioning every dire fate she’d ever read about. This time when the tears started, she couldn’t seem to stop. Apparently sensing her mother’s despair, Emma began to howl, too. Maylene put an arm around Amy’s shoulder and murmured reassurances.

  “I can’t do this,” Amy said finally. “I shouldn’t be standing around crying. I have to do something constructive. I should be looking for Josh.”

  “You will,” Maylene said. “Help will be here any second. They’ll know exactly what to do. If you go running around every which way and getting lost yourself, what good will that do?”

  Amy knew she was right. She drew in a deep breath and accepted the wad of tissues Maylene handed her. “You’re right. I have to be smart about this.”

  But she’d never felt so helpless in her life.

  IF NICK HAD TO UTTER one more ho-ho-ho, he was going to scream. It had been 9:00 a.m. by the time he was decked out in this ridiculous red suit with all the fat man pillows stuffed into it. The stupid beard itched like crazy and the too-big hat kept sliding down over his eyes. If he was fooling one single person in this mall into thinking he was Santa Claus, he’d eat the oversize hat. Even the littlest kids were eyeing him with skepticism.

  Even so, the line waiting to see him was endless. It had been nonstop since he’d settled onto Santa’s red velvet throne, which he intended to tell his sister was uncomfortable as hell. No wonder Santa hadn’t reported for duty.

  He’d managed to eat two cookies and sneak a sip of a soda for lunch before Trish had snatched them out of his hands to have his picture taken with a dad and three teenage boys. He was so hungry he was about to snatch a candy cane out of the pile being handed out to the kids. And he was just about blind from the flashbulbs going off in his eyes. Every parent clearly wanted to record the scene.

  At least the job didn’t require much acting on his part. Aside from trying to inject an unaccustomed note of cheer into his voice, his dialogue was pretty much limited to the ho-ho-ho’s and asking what the tiny monsters wanted Santa to bring them. He’d done okay with that, he thought. None of them had run off screaming that he was an impostor. Not yet, anyway.

  “You go on being a good girl,” he told the shy imp sitting rigidly on his knee. “If you do everything your mommy and daddy tell you to do,
Santa will bring you that doll you’ve been asking for.”

  Her sky-blue eyes went wide. “Really?” she asked with such amazement that Nick wondered if he’d made a serious blunder. Never promise anything, Trish had warned him. Why hadn’t he listened? He cast an anxious glance toward her mother, who gave him a surreptitious wink. He sighed with relief. Thank goodness he hadn’t set the kid up for disappointment.

  Just then his sister, who’d been suspiciously absent since she’d parked him here in Santa’s workshop, except for the photo-op with some contest winners, appeared at his side. He immediately noted the complete lack of Christmas cheer in her expression. She looked pale and even more harried than she had earlier.

  “Something up?” he asked.

  She leaned down and whispered, “We have a problem, Nicky. I’ve got a panicky mom back there who can’t find her little boy.”

  Nick’s gut began to churn. “Call security and the cops.”

  “I’ve already called security,” Trish told him. “But I’m worried she’s going to pass out or something. She just needs some reassurance that everything possible is being done. Can’t you help? It would make me feel a lot better if you would. You’re trained to deal with situations like this. And I’d rather not call the police in unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I’d just rather not, okay?”

  He gave her a hard look. “Are you worried about how this would play out on TV or something?”

  She frowned at his scathing tone. “Don’t look at me like that, Nicky. It’s part of my job to worry about things like that.”

  A missing child scenario barely a month in the past played itself out in Nick’s mind. That one hadn’t come to a good end. He didn’t want to be in the middle of another one with a tragic outcome. And, goodness knows, he knew how stories like that played in the media. He’d seen his face on the front page of the papers and on the six o’clock news too damn many times.

  “Then let security deal with it. Let them be heroes,” he repeated firmly, not even trying to hide his reluctance to be involved in any capacity. Trish had to know what she was asking of him was too much. He didn’t give a hoot how many favors he owed her.