The cab slowed as it passed through Briscoe Ranch Resort’s main entrance gate, which was decorated lavishly for the season with garlands, velvet bows in creams and blues, and gold filigree ornaments as large as Kelly’s head. On the drive onto the resort from the airport yesterday, she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings, she’d been so nervous about seeing Paul. But today, she drank in every magical detail.
Near the resort’s chapel, children slid down a man-made, snow-covered hill on colorful plastic discs. She was so busy watching a little girl in a puffy, pink snowsuit wipe out into one of the snow banks at the bottom of the hill that she didn’t notice the decked-out horse and carriage until her cab passed it on the left. The bells on the horse jingled as it treated a delighted family to a sleigh ride.
“I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life,” Kelly said.
The cab driver grinned at her through the rearview mirror. “Yeah, the Briscoes sure know how to do Christmas. That’s why thousands of folks flock to the resort this time of year. You must be a new hire. Lucky you. If you like Christmas, that is. Me, I’m more of a Scrooge type. Bah-humbug and all that. But I do like the extra business that the crowds bring in.”
Kelly loved Christmas—usually. But not this year. Her parents were off on a cruise, and her sister was busy with her family and didn’t need another out-of-town guest getting underfoot. As if Kelly could afford the plane ticket to Ohio. Kelly would have to ask to be invited to one of her friend’s celebrations or forgo Christmas altogether. One thing she was certain about: she had too much pride to ask Paul to keep her company. He was probably busy with his own family anyway.
Her heart gave a squeeze. She’d just have to get her Christmas fill at the resort.
“Okay, Miss Elf. We’re here.”
She handed the driver a credit card with a silent prayer that the payment went through. A flashing screen and buzzer told her that it hadn’t.
“Sorry, miss. Got another form of payment?”
Shit. At least Paul wasn’t around to watch the humiliation. She thumbed through her purse for her backup emergency card, the one with the impossibly high interest rate that she had no hope of paying off, and handed it over. This time, the payment went through.
She stepped outside, securing her photography bag over her shoulder and shaking off the reminder of what a hot mess she’d become. There was no time for self-flagellation or dread today, her first day on a new job. Next year would be better. She just knew it. Though the air nipped at her cheeks, the resort beaconed her like a scene straight out of a Christmas storybook, complete with luxurious garlands and wreaths. The scent of cinnamon and pine swirled through the air, and a trio of carolers dressed in Victorian costumes greeted guests at the main entrance.
The focal point of the lobby was a soaring Christmas tree that filled the front-left section of the lobby and that had been decked out in creams, silvers, and blues that matched the décor of the entrance gate. A pianist sat at a grand piano to Kelly’s right, playing holiday songs, and a refreshment table near the reception desk was serving up hot chocolate and red-and-green iced donuts.
No one did a double take at the sight of a grown woman dressed as an elf, a testament to the Christmas splendor of the room. If anything, the main reason she didn’t fit in was that her elf costume wasn’t opulent enough.
A brightly smiling young man dressed in a burgundy suit jacket gestured to her camera-equipment bag. “You must be Kelly Sawyer, the photographer.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Brent, the entertainment coordinator. Follow me.” He led her to the left of the Spanish-style fountain at the center of the room
He rattled off the details. “They have a photo printer set up, but we also offer a digital package. I’ll be there to handle payment. Did you bring your own laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Then all you have to worry about is capturing the kids’ smiles.”
“Or catching a kid mid-cry in just the right way to make it look like he’s smiling. Don’t worry, this isn’t my first rodeo.”
“That’s what the temp agency told us. But don’t worry too much about crying kids, because Paul gets most of them to smile. You’ll see. He’s the best at what he does.”
Talk of Paul got her heart beating faster. She was never so aware of her biological clock as when watching hot guys interact with kids—and she was about to spend the next four weeks watching Paul make kids smile all day, every day. She was doomed.
“Focus on his Santa gut,” she mumbled to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Brent stopped beneath a sign that read Santa’s Workshop. At least a dozen parents and kids were already queued up between red velvet ropes, though there was nearly an hour remaining until show time. Behind a short, white picket fence, a red carpet cut a path through flaky, artificial snow and up to a humungous wooden, red sleigh with a padded bench seat that looked like it belonged in Disneyland. Three stairs let up to the front of the sleigh, and a wheelchair ramp curved up to a backside entrance.
Brent showed her the photography platform in front of the sleigh, a couple of black-box platforms she could move around to capture shots at whatever angle she was inspired to, and where to stash her gear. And then he was off, fast walking through the lobby to his next task, leaving Kelly to set up.
It wasn’t long before she caught herself humming along to the pianist’s jazzy rendition of “Santa Baby” and smiling. This was going to be fun. As she prepped, Paul barely crossed her mind. Today was about the magic of Christmas and making memories for kids and their families. This wasn’t about her disastrous Year of Yes or lusting after Paul or her life going up in flames.
A half hour or so later, she startled at the sound of two trumpets sounding in union, as though announcing the arrival of a king. Every person in the lobby stopped and turned.
The trio of carolers clustered near the trumpets and broke out in a rousing rendition of “Here Come Santa Claus.” Dozens of resort workers whipped out jingle bells from God-knows-where and shook them to the beat of the song.
The lobby doors opened wide. “Ho, Ho, Ho,” reverberated through the room.
Kelly was powerless to resist the excitement. With a smile and quickened pulse, she raised her camera to her eye and started snapping rapid-fire shots in anticipation of Paul’s arrival. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight in the doorway of a sleek, powerful brown horse, Santa in the saddle holding the reins, looking every inch the consummate cowboy.
The sight took Kelly’s breath away, along with the breaths of just about everyone else in the lobby, judging by the collective gasps in the room. Sure, he had a barrel belly and wore stodgy spectacles, but there was no mistaking the rugged cowboy beneath the costume or how he commanded the crowd with an undeniable charisma and a twinkle in his eye.
Kelly expected him to dismount just outside the doors, but Paul nudged the steed forward. The crowd broke out in cheers and pointed to the horse’s hooves as Santa and his horse strode through the crowd. It wasn’t until Kelly looked up from behind the camera lens that she noticed what they were actually pointing at: Sadie, joyfully trotting alongside the horse dressed in a red cable-knit sweater, with plush felt antlers protruding near her ears.
Kelly laughed out loud at the sight, she was so tickled. Sadie was a one-of-a-kind dog.
At the entrance to Santa’s Workshop, Paul gave a tug of the reins and brought the horse to a stop. Then he swung down from the saddle in one dynamic, totally macho move, and gave the nearest kid an enthusiastic high five.
And cue Kelly’s ovary explosion.
She even forgot to capture the move with a photograph, she was so dumbfounded by his might and charisma.
He passed the reins to one of the handlers who’d parted a way through the crowd for him, then walked down the line of waiting parents and children with an unmistakable Santa swagger, shaking hands with the kids and
smiling at the parents, joking and making small talk as he made his way to the sleigh. Sadie stayed by his side, patiently allowing the kids to pat her on the head or tug her antlers. One kid threw himself on her back, and Paul had to intervene. All Sadie did was lick the kid right across the mouth.
Kelly watched one mom standing nearby lean toward her friend. “Mama’s going to have to find out if there’s a Mrs. Claus in the picture.”
On a whim, Kelly smiled pointedly at the woman. “No Mrs. Claus, but he does have his very own elf.” For the next four weeks, anyway.
The mom shook her head. “I knew it. All the good ones are taken.”
Her seventeen year-old self would have laughed herself silly if she’d heard that someday in the future, she and all the women in range of him would be fawning all over Paul Savage-as-Santa Claus. Thank goodness she wasn’t that shallow, image-obsessed girl any longer.
When he got to the sleigh, Paul patted Brent on the back, then winked at Kelly. “You ready for this, Kelly Elf?”
A day of taking photographs of Paul being sweet and charming to kids? Not even close.
Chapter Seven
Rule number one of Paul’s Santa Meet & Greet was that everybody had to stop and pet Sadie, who sat on a red fleece mat in the sleigh across from Paul, where she spent her down time gnawing on the antlers she’d promptly removed as soon as they’d reached the sleigh. At least she was well-trained enough that every time Paul summoned her to his bench for a photograph at the request of a kid or their parents , she gamely released the antlers and took a seat next to him. A few times, Kelly would have sworn she even smiled for the camera.
Rule number two of Paul’s Santa Meet & Greet was that there was no rushing Paul. He took his sweet time with each kid, often getting down to their level to coax a shy smile out of them or having long-winded conversations on his bench, despite the length of the line or how late for their intermittent break times they were running.
By the afternoon, dozens and dozens of photographs had been taken, Kelly realized Brent was right—Paul was the best at what he did. In all that time, only four kids had broken down in tears. Tears that Paul had made the kids forget all about by the time he was done with them. Like the current kid, a spunky seven-year-old named Heidi whose parents practically dragged her by the hands to the sleigh steps, and who wore a flouncy red-and-white Christmas dress, her hair impeccably curled and coifed.
Heidi took one look at Paul and burst into tears. “You’re not the real Santa Claus! Your beard’s not even white.”
Paul adjusted his spectacles and smiled that benevolent Santa smile she’d watched him perform all day. “Let me check my list. Let’s see . . . your name is Heidi, right?”
The girl sniffled. “How’d you know that?”
The real answer to her question was that Brent had already told Paul the girl’s name through the earpiece Paul wore specifically for that reason. But Paul answered Heidi with a wink, then he unfurled a long, ancient-looking scroll. “Let me see, here, Heidi. It says on my list that you’ve been a very, very good girl this year. Would you agree?”
She nodded slowly, but Kelly could still see the skepticism in her eyes, even as she climbed the stairs and assumed a seat next to Paul. “Can I see my name?”
Paul had already snapped the scroll closed. “That wouldn’t be fair for the other boys and girls on the list.”
Heidi crossed her arms. Her lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “You’re not Santa.”
Paul leaned back and gestured to Sadie, cool as a cucumber. “If I’m not really Santa Claus then how did I get a magic dog?”
Heidi wiped her runny nose with the hem of her dress. “She’s not real magic, neither.”
“Aw, Heidi. Careful what you say. Because Sadie can understand every word. Don’t you, Sadie?”
Sadie barked, right on cue.
“Should we show Heidi your magic trick?”
Sadie stood and let out an excited little yip.
Out of seemingly nowhere, Paul pulled a deck of cards. He fanned them out and held the deck toward Heidi. “You pick a card and Sadie will tell you what it is. Pick any card you want, but don’t show it to her.”
Heidi pinched a card from the middle of the deck and held it close to her chest. Paul brought the deck back into a neat pile. “Okay, now you remember what that card is. Put it in your mind and don’t forget. And when you’re ready, stick it back in the deck, wherever you want.”
Squinting and gravely serious, Heidi stared at her card, then she wedged it back into the middle of the deck. Paul pushed it the rest of the way in, then shuffled the cards. “Sadie, are you ready to find Heidi’s card?”
Sadie barked and spun in a circle. Paul fanned the cards out nice and wide on the floor this time. “Okay, Sadie. Find the card.”
Sadie put her nose to the deck, sniffing along card by card until one made her freeze. With a bark, she nosed the card out from the rest.
Paul discreetly slipped Sadie a treat, then nodded to the card. “Okay, Heidi. Go on and see if it’s your card.”
Heidi peeled it from the floor and gave a look, her eyes turning as wide as saucers.
“Well?”
“It’s the card,” she whispered.
“Sadie, what was the number on that card? Tell me in barks.” Heidi couldn’t see from her angle, but Kelly had a full view to Paul holding out three fingers on his right hand.
Sure enough, Sadie let out three successive barks.
Paul slipped her another treat from the bag on the bench to his right. For her part, Heidi looked like she’d just seen a unicorn fly by on rainbow wings. “You really are the real Santa,” she said in an awed whisper.
Paul stuck out his white-gloved hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Kelly snapped a picture of their handshake, then another as Heidi climbed onto the bench again.
“And now would you be so kind as to tell me what you’d like my elves to make for you this Christmas?”
Kelly glanced at Heidi’s parents and found her mother surreptitiously poised with a pen and paper behind her father’s back so Heidi wouldn’t see her jotting down gift ideas.
Heidi took a deep breath, winding up. And then she let ’er rip. “I want an Astronaut Barbie, and a new treehouse—and not one with a rope ladder. I need real stairs because I get scared of high places—and I want a new bike with a twinkle sound bell just like the bike that Grammy got me three years ago.”
“You remember that long ago?”
She threw up her hands. “Santa! Of course I do. I’m seven. And I want more Legos, but not the pink kind, the real kind, and I want . . .”
By the time Heidi was done, her mother had two pages of notes and Sadie had closed her eyes. Kelly had gotten more than enough photographs for the parents to choose from, and not a single one of Heidi’s initial tears.
Kelly was still marveling about that fact when the next child in line let out a loud vocalization as soon as Brent cleared him and his mom to approach the sleigh. He wasn’t their first kiddo with special needs to visit Santa that day, but he was the first to throw himself on the ground, rip his shirt off, then his shoes, and rock himself back and forth with his hands over his ears.
Even from a distance, Kelly could tell how worn to the bone his mom was.
“I know there’s a line, but if we could just have a minute,” the mom said. “This is all so exciting for Evan, and sometimes the overstimulation gets to him, but he really wants to meet Santa.”
“No problem,” Brent said with a smile. “Take your time.”
Paul hopped out of his seat and strode down the stairs, though he kept a careful distance from Evan. “Would it help if we asked the pianist to take a break?”
The mom looked stricken. “I hate to cause any more of a fuss.”
Paul gave a nod to Brent, who phoned someone on his radio.
“Lots of kids like Evan like my doggie reindeer, Sadie. Would Evan like me to bring her o
ver?”
The mom took a shaky breath through her nose. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“New plan,” Paul said, holding out his hand. “If Evan’s okay over there for a minute, why don’t you come up here and sit with me.”
Though she seemed reluctant to leave Evan, but she put her hand in Paul’s gloved one and let him assist her up the stairs and onto the bench. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hard year, the hardest since his diagnosis. Evan’s been drawing Santa pictures and watching this one Christmas DVD over and over again. I thought, of all the years, this one might work for him to meet Santa. He’s never been able to before.”
Instead of sitting next to her, Paul knelt before her. “Tell me your name, Evan’s mom.”
She swallowed hard. “Jan.”
“And what would you like for Christmas, Jan?”
“Evan needs a new . . .”
He patted her knee. “Not Evan, but you.”
That stumped her for a few moments. Her focus slid to her son, who had moved a few feet closer to the sleigh. Rather than rocking, he picked at the artificial snow at the edge of the carpeted path.
Kelly returned her attention to Jan and snapped some sweet photos of her and Paul. “Someday,” Jan said, “Evan’s going to tell me he loves me. I want to hear the words. That’s what I would want for Christmas.”
Kelly’s heart shattered into a million pieces. Before today, she’d never known that a visit to Santa could be so emotional, but it wasn’t the first time she’d been gutted by the stories of the people who visited Santa’s sleigh—and they were only on Day One of their four-week commitment.
Paul moved to the bench next to her and took both of her hands in his. “What I’ve come to learn is that sometimes love is like Santa on Christmas Eve. You know I’m out there. You can feel the magic in the air, even if you never see me coming down the chimney. Even if you can’t hear my reindeer on the roof. You know Santa’s real because of your faith in the magic of Christmas. Even if you can’t hear the actual words from Evan, that doesn’t mean the love isn’t real. You just have to have a little faith.”
If Santa Were a Cowboy Page 5