Christmas on Candy Cane Lane

by Sheila Roberts

  Bribery, a time-honored parental tool. But, somehow, in this instance it felt wrong. Since when did a dad have to bribe a child to go see Santa with her mother? Oh, yeah. When Mother was being mean. You’re a mean one, Mrs. Grinch. Except she wasn’t being mean. It was sneaky and wrong of Rob to come over and start manipulating the kids like this.

  Hannah’s wails were downgrading to sobs and she was nodding. Resigned to going to see Santa with Mean Mommy. And right now there was nothing Mean Mommy would rather do than beat Daddy the Jerk over the head with a Christmas tree.

  “Why did you come over?” Ivy demanded.

  “Didn’t your mom tell you?”

  “I mean really.”

  “I found some chocolate Santas at Sweet Dreams.”

  “Daddy brought us candy,” put in Hannah, still sobbing.

  “Well, that was very nice of Daddy, especially since he could’ve given them to you next weekend when you came to visit,” she added, glaring at Rob.

  “Daddy brought you candy, too,” Hannah said.

  “Employee discount on the Sweet Dreams Christmas box,” he said.

  The special Sweet Dreams Christmas box. An elegant gold box wrapped with a red ribbon, containing all the Sweet Dreams specials—mint truffles, rum bonbons, little dark-chocolate Santas spiced with cinnamon and their signature white-chocolate-rose truffles. He’d gotten it for her two years ago and she’d savored every bite. Last Christmas there’d been no chocolate, and then no husband. This Christmas...okay, she’d keep the chocolate, but the man could go live in Whoville for all she cared. Did he really think he could bribe his way back into her heart with a box of chocolates?

  “Chocolate, that makes everything all right again, huh?”

  “I’m not sure what will make everything all right again,” he said, “but I have to start somewhere.”

  She reached to take Hannah from his arms, and her stubborn daughter clung to him like a limpet. “I want Daddy.”

  Ivy gave up. “Okay, fine. Daddy will come with us.”

  The sobs stopped instantly now that victory had been achieved. Giving in to a child’s tantrum, bad. Letting the child’s father come with her to see Santa, good. So was this good parenting or bad? Who knew? Was it good for her heart? Definitely not. They’d take two cars. Rob could hang around for some ho-ho-hos and then he’d go his way and Ivy would go hers.

  “Thanks, Ive,” he said.

  “I’m not doing this for you and you know it,” she snapped.

  “I know. Thanks, anyway, though,” he said, and followed her out to the living room, where Mutti was bouncing Robbie on her knees.

  “All ready?” she asked, her expression a mixture of concern and guilt.

  “Yes,” Ivy said.

  “Daddy’s taking us to see Santa,” Hannah told her grandmother.

  Now Mutti really looked guilty. “Oh. Well. That will be nice.”

  “For some of us,” Ivy said. Rob and the kids were going to have a great time, but he’d managed to ruin the day for her. Ooh, she’d like to give him a lump of coal in his stocking and a lump on the head to go with it.

  They went out the door and Mutti made a quick exit. Rob helped Ivy load the kids into the minivan, then started walking to his car.

  “Daddy, come with us,” called Hannah.

  “Daddy will meet us there,” Ivy said. She got in the car and locked the doors.

  “But I want Daddy to come with us,” Hannah whined.

  “He is. He’s coming in his own car.” And as soon as they’d seen Santa, they were going to ditch him.

  Downtown was a holiday beehive, teeming with people. She parked in the employee parking slots in back of Christmas Haus, and then made her way with the kids to the town center where Santa and the missus, played by James and Olivia Claussen, were enthroned, surrounded by plastic reindeer and pots of miniature Christmas trees festooned with colored lights. The line to see them stretched halfway down the block. Oh, good, a nice, long wait with her ex. Maybe he wouldn’t find a place to park. One could always hope.

  But no, here he came, as hard to get rid of as Thanksgiving leftovers.

  He joined her, and they walked to the end of the line with Rob carrying the baby and Hannah skipping alongside. Samantha Preston and Cecily Goodman, members of the Sterling family who owned Sweet Dreams Chocolates, were at the end of the line with their husbands and children. Samantha’s husband held their toddler, Rose, who was dressed all in pink. Cecily was almost at the end of her first pregnancy and showing off the expectant-mom glow. Her stepdaughter, Serena, who was a couple of years older than Hannah, wore a plaid wool coat with a red scarf and matching knit tam. She was holding her daddy’s hand, jumping up and down with excitement.

  Both sisters did a double-take, seeing Ivy with Rob in tow, but recovered quickly enough, greeting them with smiles and hellos.

  “We’re going to see Santa,” Serena said to Hannah.

  “I’m going to ask Santa to bring my daddy back home,” Hannah confided.

  Blake smiled politely. Luke cleared his throat and then said to Rob, “Hey, how about those Seahawks?” while Cecily looked speculatively at Ivy.

  I’m going to die of embarrassment. Ivy did her best to gloss over the moment by asking the sisters how everything was going at Sweet Dreams.

  “It’s been our best year yet,” Samantha said. “And I assume things are great over at Christmas Haus.”

  “Our best year so far, too,” Ivy said. At least something in her life was going right. She liked the Sterling sisters a lot, but she couldn’t help envying their perfect lives. Beautiful children, husbands who were in it for the long haul and who didn’t resent their women’s busy lives.

  As the men chatted and the children kept one another occupied, Cecily lowered her voice. “I know it’s none of my business, but are you and Rob...?”

  Ivy shook her head vehemently. “No. We’re just doing the Santa thing together with the kids.”

  Cecily nodded, her expression thoughtful. Cecily had a reputation in town. Before returning to Icicle Falls to live, she’d worked as a professional matchmaker in LA. When it came to romance and who should be with whom, she had a sort of second sight.

  “What are you thinking?” Ivy prompted.

  “Me? Oh, nothing,” Cecily said airily. “It’s just nice to see you two together, is all.”

  “We’re not together.”

  Cecily’s cheeks, already pink from the frosty air, reddened. “No, of course not.”

  Did she know Rob had bought candy for Ivy? Did Samantha know? Did it matter? He could buy a sleigh load of chocolate, and it wouldn’t change Ivy’s mind about taking him back.

  As the line moved forward, the conversation shifted to plans for the holidays. “We’ll be with Blake’s family Christmas Eve, then with ours on Christmas Day,” Samantha said. “How about you?”

  “The kids and I will be with my family on Christmas Eve,” Ivy said. And the next morning, she’d drop them off at their father’s. This would be the first year she didn’t have her babies with her on Christmas Day. She could feel the tears rising in her eyes.

  Cecily reached out and patted her arm. “Holiday adjustments can be hard.”

  Ivy nodded and wiped away a tear. She even managed a smile. Yes, those adjustments could be hard but she’d make them. She had to.

  Finally it was their turn to see Santa, with only five minutes to spare before his next appearance in the gazebo to kick off the tree-lighting ceremony.

  James Claussen was one of the town’s newer residents. He’d been a professional Santa for years and he had the girth and thick, white beard, as well as the jolly smile that made him perfect for the job.

  “Well, look who we have here,” he said, holding out a white-gloved hand to Hannah. “You’re
a very sweet little girl,” he said as she perched on his leg. “I’ll bet you want something special this year.”

  Hannah nodded eagerly and Ivy captured the moment with her cell phone camera. “I want my daddy to come back home to stay.”

  Ivy was aware of Rob standing next to her, holding Robbie. She could feel her cheeks heating with embarrassment and—what? Not guilt. She had nothing to feel guilty about. She wasn’t the rat who’d broken vows and walked out.

  “Daddy doesn’t live at our house anymore,” Hannah went on to explain.

  “That’s because Daddy wanted to live somewhere else,” Ivy said with a fake smile for Rob.

  He moved close to her and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I’d give anything for a second chance.”

  “Well, don’t hold your breath,” she said sharply. Darn him, he was bringing out the absolute worst in her. She had to stop letting him do that. “Tell Santa what else you’d like,” she prompted Hannah, infusing her voice with holiday cheer.

  Hannah considered a moment, then shook her head. “That’s all.”

  Ivy felt an ache pounding at her temples. Whose idea was it to come here, anyway? “Okay, sweetie, it’s your brother’s turn on Santa’s lap,” she said.

  Hannah dutifully thanked Santa and hopped off his leg, and Rob moved in to replace her with Robbie. Their son took one look at the big guy in the red suit and burst into terrified tears.

  “Robbie, ask Santa to bring Daddy home,” Hannah coached.

  This was like some sort of Christmas nightmare. Ivy took a quick shot of her son, then picked him up. The crying shuddered to a stop and he laid his head on her shoulder.

  “Well, now, next year our young man will be ready to sit on Santa’s lap,” said James. He smiled sympathetically. “You have a good Christmas.”

  “Thanks,” Ivy murmured, and thought, Fat chance.

  Rob picked up Hannah, who beamed at him. “I know you’ll come home now,” she said. “Santa promised.”

  “No, sweetie, he didn’t,” Ivy corrected her as they moved away. “Santa only brings toys, not daddies.”

  Hannah seemed downright shocked by this and looked to her father to refute it.

  “It’s true, baby. But Santa will bring you something nice.”

  Hannah didn’t say anything to that. And she didn’t seem particularly happy with the outcome of her visit to the jolly old guy. Well, that made two of them, Ivy thought miserably.

  They walked to a nearby bench that would give them a view of the goings-on at the gazebo, Ivy holding Robbie and Hannah perched on her father’s lap. “I don’t like Santa,” Hannah muttered.

  Thanks, Rob. “Oh, but he likes you,” Ivy said.

  “I just want you to come home, Daddy.”

  “Daddy likes where he lives now,” Ivy told her. “And you like going to visit him.”

  Hannah considered this and then answered with a shrug.

  Who could blame her? Having her parents living apart was a poor second to having them both with her every day.

  But hey, people got divorced all the time. Kids were resilient; that was what everyone said. This first Christmas with the new arrangement would be hard, but after that the holidays would get easier. And at least Mommy and Daddy still lived in the same town. That was almost as good as sleeping in the same bed.

  Bed. No, don’t even think about it.

  Too late. A flood of images assailed her. Rob wearing the boxers with red hearts she’d gotten him for Valentine’s Day, standing in the middle of the bed, thumping his chest like Tarzan, then leaping off and gathering her in his arms. Rob kissing his way down her body. Rob spooning her when she was eight months pregnant with Hannah, kissing her neck and telling her she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Those were old, out-of-date mental snapshots, she reminded herself. Remember Rob coming to bed long after you did, getting under the covers and turning his back to you. Or Rob sitting on the bed fully clothed with his head in his hands, saying, “I can’t do this anymore. I want out.”

  Yeah, happy Christmas memories.

  Santa was on the gazebo stage now, speaking into the microphone. “I know you’ve all been good.”

  Not all of us.

  “And I’ll be visiting your houses on Christmas Eve, so make sure you do what Mommy and Daddy say. Can you all do that?”

  “Yes,” chorused all the young children present.

  “All right, then. Merry Christmas,” Santa called, and waved.

  Hannah, who only a few minutes ago had put Santa on her naughty list, waved eagerly. Then she hugged Rob.

  He looked over her head at Ivy, his expression half pleading, half hopeful. “I really would do anything, Ive. Anything you asked.”

  “Good. Then why don’t you go jump off Sleeping Lady Mountain?”

  Now Pastor Jim was saying a prayer. “God, bless us all this Christmas season. Give us joy in our daily lives, forgiveness in our hearts and Your perfect peace.”

  Ugh. Ivy was currently lacking in all three of those.

  “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men,” Rob whispered.

  “Men? How about immature, irresponsible little boys masquerading as men?” she retorted.

  “Boys can grow up.”

  “Yeah? Well, it’ll take a whole chorus of angels announcing it to convince me.”

  At that moment the carol sing began. “Angels we have heard on high,” everyone around her began warbling, “sweetly singing o’er the plain.”

  “There you go,” Rob said, trying for a light tone.

  “Stop it,” she said harshly. “Just stop it.”

  “Mommy, don’t yell at Daddy,” Hannah scolded.

  “Mommy’s not yelling,” Rob said.

  “Yes, she is. She’s wearing her mad face.”

  Ivy forced herself to smile. She rubbed her daughter’s arm. “It’s okay, baby.”

  A text came in from her sister. How was Santa?

  Bad. Rob came with.

  Poor you. Want company tonite?

  Yes! They could have a man-hating party.

  K. See you at 7.

  That worked. If Rob asked to stay she could tell him she was expecting company.

  She tucked her phone back in her pocket and sat through “Deck the Halls” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Then Mayor Stone began the countdown for the tree lighting.

  Robbie’s head came off Ivy’s shoulder and he looked up to see what the ruckus was about. Hannah sat on Rob’s lap, smiling as he counted down in her ear.

  “Three, two, one... Merry Christmas!” called the mayor, and the giant tree came to glorious, sparkling life, along with the lights on the smaller trees in the town square and all the ones strung along Center Street.

  Robbie gazed around in wonder and Hannah clapped her hands. Even Ivy, who’d been feeling pretty darned sour a minute ago, had to smile. Christmas in Icicle Falls was always magical.

  The local glee club was on stage now, singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

  Could Ivy make her Christmas merry this year? She remembered what she read in the last chapter of Muriel Sterling’s book.

  Find joy in the smallest things and all those small joys will add up to a full heart.

  Okay, here was one small thing she could find joy in—the lights were beautiful and her children were smiling. That made her smile, too.

  Until she saw Rob smiling at her as if her happy moment had anything to do with him. That wiped the smile off her face. “Okay, gang. Time to go home and have dinner,” she said, and stood up, settling Robbie on her hip.

  Rob sighed and set Hannah down. She looked up at him and repeated, “Time to go home and have dinner, Daddy.”

  “No, Daddy can’t come,�
�� Ivy said. “He has things to do.”

  Hannah’s lower lip jutted out. “I want Daddy to come home with us.”

  “You’ll get to go visit Daddy next week.” Ivy took her daughter’s hand and began to lead her away.

  Hannah dug in her heels, trying not to move. “Noooo, I want Daddy.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Ivy said. “See you next week, Daddy,” she called cheerily, and hauled off her crying daughter.

  “Someone needs a nap,” said an older woman as Ivy and her children passed by.

  “I sure do,” Ivy muttered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One thing that blooms well at Christmas is love.

  —Muriel Sterling, Making the Holidays Bright: How to Have a Perfect Christmas

  Tilda tossed aside the out-of-date issue of People magazine she’d been half reading. What was she doing here in the emergency waiting room? Oh, yeah. Waiting.

  “You oughta get that hand checked out,” Andy Mixon, one of the medics, had told Devon. “Might need a couple stitches on your head, too. Til, take him to the emergency room,” he’d added. “If we give him a ride there for minor injuries, his insurance won’t cover it.”

  “Yeah, Til, take me to the emergency room,” Devon had echoed, grinning as though he’d made some sort of conquest. Did he really think she was that easy?

  Maybe she was. Why else was she hanging around here? She could’ve told him to call his brother to come and get him.

  Of course, it wasn’t like she’d had big plans for the night. Except...crap. Mom’s soup. She pulled out her cell and called her mother. “Hey, you doing okay?”

  Mom answered with a phlegmy cough. “Sure. Where’s my soup?”

  “It’s coming. I had to take a friend to the emergency room.” Friend? That was stretching it.

  “What happened? Did someone get shot?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t always sound so hopeful,” Tilda complained.

  “I have no life. I have to live through you.”

  “Yeah, right. And no, nobody got shot. A kid ran out into the parking lot and my friend—” there was that word again “—rescued him.”