Dear Santa

by Nancy Naigle

  “Sure.”

  Why did that feel like such a betrayal? “Please tell me you didn’t buy anything.”

  “Some deals you just can’t pass by. You said yourself the stores are completely different.”

  “Seriously? Marie? How could you do that?”

  “It wasn’t like I bought Christmas stuff,” Marie said.

  “What about the wreath and the little fake Christmas tree for my room?” Chrissy stood wide-eyed and innocent in the doorway. “It’s so pretty.”

  “I bet it is,” Angela tried to say sweetly to Chrissy, but her heart was sinking. “I can’t believe you would do that, Marie.”

  “You don’t even sell fake trees.”

  “For. A. Reason.” Angela wanted to scream. “You really bought one?”

  “So?”

  Angela stood and turned to face her sister straight on. “So you’re my sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I am on your side, but Christmas Galore is a cool store, and they have great sales. Nothing like Heart of Christmas.”

  “My store isn’t cool?” Angela practically choked on the words. Holding back tears, she squeezed her hands together.

  Chrissy bounced at her side. “They have cherry sno-cones in paper cones that look like Santa hats.”

  Angela stooped next to Chrissy and tried to hide the bite she felt in the words she was about to say. “That sounds like so much fun, Chrissy.”

  “It was. And it looked like I had red lipstick on when I was done.” Chrissy kissed the air. “I was so pretty.”

  Brad came in to clear the rest of the dishes. A fork fell from the top plate and fell in front of Angela.

  She picked it up, squeezing it in her hand and hammering it into the air as she spoke. “Not only haven’t you come to any of the classes at Heart of Christmas this year with Chrissy, but you haven’t even bothered to come see how Snow Valley turned out. I worked hard pulling that together.”

  Marie’s mouth dropped open, but she held whatever it was she was going to say.

  Chapter Three

  Dear Santa,

  You can text my mom at (555) 432-1314 for my list. I used her phone to take pictures of everything I want this year so you don’t mess up.

  Thanks,

  Reggie

  Brad took the fork out of Angela’s shaking hand and disappeared into the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

  Marie lifted her chin. “You have to admit, snow at the beach is just a little out there. We never have snow in Pleasant Sands.”

  “Well, we have it this year,” Angela said.

  “I don’t see how that’s going to help sales.”

  Angela hated fighting with Marie. Usually she could let Marie’s opinions roll right off of her, but this time it was personal. “Christmas Galore is sucking the last life out of Heart of Christmas, and I’m brokenhearted at the thought of having to close. I couldn’t go down without a fight. Why can’t you at least understand that?”

  “But an indoor snow town?”

  “Snow Valley.” Angela sucked in a breath.

  Marie held up her hand. “Valley. I stand corrected. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental or uncaring. I know how much that place means to you.”

  Angela wasn’t so sure she did.

  “You were so little when Momma died, and then when Daddy left.” Marie grew quiet. “While I was in school, you were stuck in that store every day with Momma Grace.”

  “I wasn’t stuck. It’s what I wanted to do. Where I wanted to be.”

  “It’s all you knew. And then after school, summers, and holidays you were always at the store with her, while I was off with friends.”

  “I really loved being a part of Heart of Christmas with Momma Grace.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “You act like it was the worst childhood ever. It wasn’t. I treasure every memory.”

  “But Angela, you’ve never done anything else. That store isn’t your dream. You’re living our grandmother and her mother’s dream.”

  “Just because I didn’t want to be a lawyer like you doesn’t mean that I’m not doing what I want.”

  “You don’t do a single thing that isn’t somehow tied to Heart of Christmas.”

  Angela pulled her arms across her chest.

  Marie glared at Brad, who now stood at the door.

  “All I’m saying, sis, is that it’s probably not the worst thing in the world if you have to close that store. You need to live your life. Whatever that ends up looking like. Right now you’re all work. You’re living like some kind of spinster keeping up that place.” Marie passed Angela a cloth napkin with a colorful cornucopia embroidered on the corner.

  Angela dabbed at her eyes, and the tears on her cheeks.

  “I picked those out,” Chrissy said. “Are you crying?”

  Chrissy’s face was etched with worry. “I’m okay, Chrissy.” Angela turned the cloth napkin over in her hand. It was pretty, but not the quality linen her sister usually was drawn to. She looked to her sister. “I don’t even want to know, do I?” Angela was certain these had also come from her competitor. No. Napkins weren’t putting her out of business, but it was the principle of the thing. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was run that store.”

  “There’s got to be something else you’ve wanted to do.” Marie let out a breath, looking as if she were one of those holiday inflatables losing its boost of air. “You were always the smart one.”

  “Says the lawyer sister? Really?”

  “You went to college too.”

  “I have a business degree. I’m running a business. Seems like a perfect fit to me. And yet I’ve failed.”

  “Remember when you wanted to rescue turtles? You could work at the aquarium.”

  Angela shook her head. “I’d hate that. I’d cry every time one came in hurt. I’d end up with a herd of turtles in my backyard.”

  “I think they’re referred to as a dole.”

  Angela felt ready to dole out a little piece of her mind. “Herd. Dole. Whatever. It wouldn’t be good.”

  “Turtles are so cute. I can help name them,” Chrissy offered. “Pete is a good turtle name. Or Tina if it’s a girl turtle.”

  “Thank you, Chrissy.” Angela cupped Chrissy’s chin. At the rate she was working Angela knew she would never have a family of her own, although she’d always dreamed of having children. Two. A boy and a girl, but she hadn’t had a relationship since Jimmy. Sure, some women took it upon themselves to have kids on their own, but that wasn’t her style either. She rolled her eyes. “I won’t be working with turtles.”

  Reacting to Angela’s eye roll, Marie quickly added, “Or you could write that book about the history of Pleasant Sands. You know more about this town than anyone.”

  Brad cleared his voice as if clearing the way for his return to the kitchen. “It’s a holiday, maybe we need a new tradition. Like not talking about anything work related?”

  Marie turned and glared at him.

  Angela appreciated his attempt to throw her a lifeline.

  “After all this amazing food, with my amazing girls, I can’t wait to do nothing but eat turkey sandwiches all day tomorrow,” Brad said.

  “Speaking of tomorrow,” Marie said. “Christmas Galore is opening at one o’clock in the morning for their Black Friday sale.”

  Brad shrugged, then left for the living room. He’d tried, but Marie was tenacious when she had a point she wanted to make. A trait that was very helpful in her career as a lawyer, but exhausting as a sister. “I sell Christmas décor, not the hot toy of the season or cheap TVs. I don’t understand that whole Black Friday hype anyway. I’d never get up in the middle of the night to go shopping.”

  Marie said, “I couldn’t shop right now no matter what the deal was.” She rubbed her stomach. “But by one in the morning I might be up for it to work off some of these calories.”

  “I could have another sno-cone,” Chrissy said.

  “How about pumpkin pie ins
tead.” Marie grabbed plates from the island and began slicing pie. “I have whipped topping too.”

  “Thought you were stuffed,” Angela said.

  Chrissy clapped her hands, then tugged on the sleeve of Angela’s shirt. “I hope your heart doesn’t break, Aunt Angela.”

  “Me too, sweetie.”

  “You’re lucky this is happening right now,” Chrissy said.

  Great. Now her niece was going to echo her sister’s thoughts? “Lucky, huh? Why do you think that?”

  “Very lucky. Because Santa is around. He can help you.” Chrissy folded her arms tightly across her white pinafore dress. “He’ll give you anything you want if you’ve been good.”

  Angela’s mood softened. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that blind faith again? “I don’t think he can fix this, but thank you. That was really sweet.”

  “No. He can!” Chrissy stabbed a finger in the air. “He does it all the time. We can write him a letter. I know how.”

  “I gave up on Santa answering my letters a long time ago,” she said, remembering her last letter to Santa. She hadn’t been much older than Chrissy at the time.

  Marie lowered her voice. “Bringing Daddy back home wasn’t something Santa or anyone else could do. I can’t believe you’re still angry about that.”

  Angela pushed her hair back over her shoulder. It might be stupid, and childish, but yes, she still had a little angst with Santa over that one.

  Chrissy pursed her lips. “You might not have been a good girl that year. Sometimes I’m bad and kind of forget too. You’ve been good this year, though. Right?”

  “Very good,” Angela said. For whatever good it did her.

  “I can help you write the letter. I have the app on my iPad.” Chrissy ran out of the room, her patent leather shoes slapping against the terrazzo tile.

  Marie nodded. “She does.”

  “I’m so behind the times,” Angela admitted.

  “Don’t get me started,” Marie said. “I’ll get you some pie. Pie cures everything. Momma Grace always said so.”

  “That’s true. Her pumpkin pie was the best. Remember the year we grew pumpkins?”

  “I do. She made us weed that garden every day.”

  “I remember helping Momma Grace prepare the fresh pumpkin to be used in those pies. What a mess, but so much fun.”

  Marie’s face screwed up. “It was gross.”

  Chrissy returned, holding up her iPad. “See!” She shoved the tablet toward Angela. “I’ve got the app all ready for you. Isn’t it pretty?”

  “We’re going to eat some pie. Don’t you want some?” Angela said, trying to change the subject. She had no intention of writing a letter to Santa.

  “I’m kind of full,” Chrissy said. “Can I just have bites of yours?”

  “Sure.” This wasn’t the first time Angela had shared pie with Chrissy. “You’d better make mine a double,” she said with a wink to Marie.

  Marie cut a large slice of pie and put it on a plate.

  “Whipped cream too!” Chrissy insisted.

  Angela took the can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator and squirted three dollops into a smiley face on the slice, then slid her plate toward Chrissy.

  “Here. You carry the iPad.” Chrissy handed it to Angela. “I’ll carry the pie.” Chrissy carried the plate with both hands, one foot in front of the other, never taking her eyes off the plate.

  “It’s easier to not spill it if you just look ahead,” her mom said.

  But Chrissy was on a mission to get to the table without incident.

  Angela set the iPad on the kitchen counter and started for the table.

  Marie caught her by the arm. “Would it kill you to play along with your niece?” She bumped her shoulder. “Might even be fun.”

  Angela picked up the iPad with a huff, then joined Chrissy at the table. Darn iPad was daunting. She turned it over, hiding the screen.

  Chrissy wiggled into the chair next to Angela. “You have to know exactly what you want to say to Santa. He only lets you have so many words.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve sent him lots of letters. Mommy taught me how to dictate like she does.”

  “You didn’t.” Angela looked at Marie. “Why would you do that?”

  “It gives her the freedom to type her thoughts even though she doesn’t know how to write yet. Believe me, this is a good thing. She’s recognizing words already. I think this is going to really prepare her for school.”

  “Great. She’s more skilled than I am.”

  “What’s ‘skilled’ mean?”

  “That you’re very smart,” Angela explained. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Want me to show you how to talk-type?”

  “I can just type.”

  Marie sat back, looking pleased. “It’ll be fun.”

  Chrissy turned the iPad face-up and slid it toward Angela. “You’re going to need this.”

  Angela looked at the screen. The words “Dear Santa” sparkled in a swirly green-glitter script across an inky-blue sky, with white snowflakes falling softly across the screen.

  As soon as Angela tapped the Dear Santa button, a bright red-and-white candy-cane-striped envelope soared into the center of the screen, spun around and opened, displaying the fields to be filled in.

  Angela typed in her email address and name then tabbed down to the note section and let out a sigh.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Angela turned the iPad toward her sister. “Can I even catch one tiny break?”

  Chapter Four

  Dear Santa,

  I have been a very good girl. I want a rabbit for Christmas. My brother wants a skateboard but he’s been very bad so don’t bring him anything no matter how many letters he sends you.

  Thank you,

  Victoria

  “Look at this!” Angela tilted the iPad toward Marie, waving her finger in an accusing circle. “Down at the very bottom. See that? It says, ‘Sponsored by Christmas Galore.’”

  “Oh?” Marie leaned in for a closer look. “I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t notice that before.” She clicked back and refreshed the screen. “See. Now it shows the hammock company as a sponsor. Christmas Galore is probably just one of fifty sponsors that rotate through. No big deal.”

  “I’m not going to get sucked into the Christmas Galore infatuation. They’re putting me out of business.” Angela pushed the iPad away.

  “Christmas Galore is not putting you out of business,” Marie said. “Time, technology and cheap products are putting you out of business. It’s the age of online ordering and disposable holiday stuff. I don’t know how you’ve made it this long without an online presence. You’re lucky you’ve lasted as long as you have.”

  “Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment, because it does not feel like one.” Angela took pride in knowing she was still doing business in the way Momma Grace and the generation before her had. It might be the old-fashioned way, but it suited her just fine.

  “You know what I’m saying.” Marie reached for her sister’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to sound mean. I’m just trying to be realistic.”

  “I’m not playing into Christmas Galore’s superstore, one-stop shop using Christmas to get people in the door. It’s like bait and switch, and now they’re pretending they’re…” she glanced over at Chrissy, then spoke in a whisper, “… the big guy.” No matter how mad she was she couldn’t blow the magic of Santa for her niece.

  “It’s just an app. Write the letter. For your niece.”

  “I’m the niece, right, Mommy?”

  “Yes.” Marie stacked the empty pie plates one on top of the other. “You know they don’t answer those things. It’s an autoresponder.”

  “Santa answers every single letter,” Chrissy insisted before running out of the room, and calling, “Dad, doesn’t Santa answer all of his letters?”

  “See,” Marie said to Angela. “He answers them personally. All tw
elve of them that she’s sent. It’s an app. Like picking your fake stripper name. Seriously, just do it. What do you have to lose? This is your chance to vent. No one is going to read your letter anyway, and maybe you’ll feel better. It’ll be like therapy.”

  Chrissy came back into the room and raced to Angela’s side. “Please, Aunt Angela. I know he can help you.”

  “You’re right. What’s the harm? Santa is the best. He can fix anything.” Angela hugged Chrissy close. “Will you help me write it?”

  Chrissy hitched herself up into Angela’s lap with a wide grin pasted on her face. Leaning on one chubby arm she pointed to the spot where Angela was to type. “Put your cursor there and type words.”

  Angela finger-pecked the keys, quickly and succinctly. Had it been a real keyboard those keys would have been bruised.

  “Read it to us,” Chrissy demanded.

  “Dear Santa,

  I think old-fashioned Christmas is going out of style. Sadly, if sales don’t pick up I will have to close the doors on my store, Heart of Christmas. My great-great-grandmother opened this store. It’s been an important part of our family for generations now. I worked side-by-side with my grandmother running it until her death. She left me the business. I can’t let her down. Please help.

  Respectfully,

  Angela”

  “That’s what you’re writing to Santa?” Marie said. “Pitiful.”

  She’d said that last part under her breath, but Angela felt the full force of it.

  Chrissy pulled her little hands to her hips. “You didn’t even tell him you were on the ‘nice’ list. You have to tell him you’ve been good.” Chrissy tossed her curls. “Everyone knows you have to tell Santa that you’re on the ‘good’ list.”

  “I thought Santa knew who was on the ‘good’ list and the ‘naughty’ list,” Angela reasoned.

  “He does. He writes the list, but he’s busy, and you have to help him so he has time to do other things. It’s almost Christmas. He’s very, very busy.”

  “I see.”

  Marie leaned forward. “Momma Grace is gone, and your life has stood still the past seven years. Heart of Christmas has had a great run, but now it’s time for you to figure out what your own dreams are and quit living Momma Grace’s. Heck, ask Santa for a pony. That would be better than what you wrote.”