Dear Santa

by Nancy Naigle

  “Yes. I know, and it’s a sweet little shop.”

  “It’s not sweet. It’s my business.”

  “Well, I just meant that it was small. And from the sounds of things it will be not be around for long. I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe we can help by purchasing some of your inventory. You have quite a selection of village pieces. I’m sure they are very popular.” He regretted the empty promise as soon as he said it, because there was no use for the type of inventory she carried in any of his Christmas Galore stores.

  “You’ve been in my store?”

  Marie tugged Angela by the arm. “We really should get back over here and watch the parade. Come on—”

  Angela yanked her arm out of her sister’s grip.

  “You put me out of business. You and your one-stop, filled-to-the-ceiling warehouse of low-quality junk. No one even cares if what they buy from you lasts through the season.”

  “And there’s something wrong with that?” He shook his head. “It’s not my fault that my business model appeals to folks. It’s what I do. I’m good at it. Sue me.”

  “You are not appealing at all.”

  “If you’d been a little flexible in your business model you could have kept your business afloat. It’s a charming little store.”

  “Stop calling my store little, and charming, and sweet. You make it sound like I’m running a lemonade stand.”

  He wanted to say maybe that was a better idea than what she was doing. At least his merchandise was something people needed at the beach. Who really needed Christmas ornaments in July? That’s when most of the customers were in town. But he didn’t want to be mean, and his comments had been borderline ugly.

  He softened his tone. “I didn’t mean to imply that.”

  “I’ll have you know that forty percent of all businesses in Pleasant Sands have only been around an average of three years. Heart of Christmas has enjoyed over ninety years here. We are a cornerstone of this town, and even if it comes to be that I close Heart of Christmas and there is not a store there, that lighthouse will continue to shine on in this town’s history.”

  “You’re just a sputtering fountain of local knowledge, aren’t you?”

  She pressed her hands to her sides. “At least I want what’s best for this town. I help bring Christmas magic to this town.”

  “Yes, well, you won’t give anyone else a chance to without starting a war.” On that note, he turned to walk away.

  There was no sense causing a big scene at the Christmas parade. People were beginning to look.

  He wished he were feeling a little Christmas magic right now too. Enough magic to let him disappear.

  The last thing he needed was his customers seeing him act like an ass with the town’s beloved shopkeeper.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  DID YOU KNOW?

  This year marks the 82nd year since the first Christmas parade in Pleasant Sands. The first parade consisted of the local marching band, the fire truck and Santa riding in a horse-drawn carriage.

  “You’re just going to walk away?” Angela took a step back as if sizing him up. “Really? Just like that?”

  He stopped. “This isn’t the place for this discussion. And I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I was just here to enjoy the parade.”

  Her sister stepped in. “Angela, he’s right. Come on. People are trying to enjoy the parade.” She nodded toward Chrissy, who was staring up at Angela like she’d seen a ghost.

  “You’re right.” Only she didn’t walk away. Needing the last word, she turned and leaned in close to Geoff. “I guess you think it’s fine to create a tourist trap.”

  “It’s just business.”

  “That’s not the way I do business. I’ll remind you too that there are a lot of people that live here year-round. I sell quality items at a fair price. My customers are happy, and so am I.”

  “You think my customers aren’t happy?” Geoff felt his patience slip. “Our customers don’t have to buy anything. They could easily walk out of my store and drive twenty minutes up the road to the superstore. Or to yours. But they don’t. They’re buying. From Christmas Galore. Sales are good. Clearly I’m doing something that appeals to the masses. Yes, that even includes your neighbors.”

  A small grunt escaped her lips. “My store is special. It’s unique.” She lifted her chin, pressing her lips firmly together in hopes that he wouldn’t notice they were trembling.

  “It is. I’ll give you that.” He lifted his chin, mimicking her body language. “Christmas Galore does not need to steal ideas. I was there in your quaint little store because I was curious about the snow after you came and accused me of stealing your idea.”

  “Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better? You’re stalking me?”

  “I’m not stalking you. I was curious, and Snow Valley is very creative. I give it to you, it’s way better than our snowball fight. You caught my attention and … Oh, forget it.”

  She crossed her arms and the pulse in her jawline told him she was biting back more she had to say.

  “What?” he prodded her. She was cute when she was spun up like this. Her hands balled in fists so tight her fingers looked translucent, and her chest—right there above very nice cleavage—reddened at the pace of a blue crab in a pot of boiling water and Old Bay.

  “To you this is a tourist town. To me, to a lot of people … this is home. A unique and precious natural resource to be treasured, a string of barrier islands off the coast. Neighbors to the tune of nearly twenty-eight hundred year-rounders who want to help one another. We’re just seven feet above sea level here. If I had to guess you probably have plywood stacked to the ceiling back there in hopes of a big storm so you can gouge the locals as they try to protect their properties.”

  That caught in his throat.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  Every location of Christmas Galore took up precious square footage—a floor-to-ceiling four-by-eight-foot footprint—in their warehouse just for such an event. Plywood and water. “My goal is to sell what our customers need.”

  Her brown eyes clawed at him like talons. “And riding Christmas just to make a buck.” Angela flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “I’ve heard about your stores. Seen your ads. Your ‘Christmas,’” she air quoted, “store in the fall doesn’t have anything Christmassy about it. You’re as commercial as can be. You’re a fraud.”

  Geoff blinked. “There are Christmas trees set up in our store year-round.” Some of them were actually conical-shaped shelves that looked like Christmas trees, but that counted. “And we have one aisle of nothing but snow globes. Over one hundred and fifty different ones across all of our stores.” He didn’t mention that most were summer and non-Christmas themed, but that wasn’t really important at the moment.

  “Oh yeah, just to hang random knickknacks, flip-flops, sunglasses and overpriced made-in-China silk-screened items that won’t last the length of a vacation, which here in Pleasant Sands is an average of only five days,” she shared.

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you if you don’t have anything nice to say, to not say anything at all?” Geoff asked.

  “You’re going to talk to me about being nice?” She managed a shrug and said offhandedly, “I can tell you—”

  Geoff placed the tips of his fingers against her lips.

  She sucked in a breath, craning her neck to avoid his touch, but he’d touched her lips and they were soft. Much softer than the harsh words that had been flying out of them.

  “I can see you and I are going to have a lively competitive relationship.” He slowly pulled his hand back. “I didn’t mean to make you feel second best.”

  “I do not feel second to you. We are not even in the same space. I own a Christmas shop that has been a part of families’ celebrations for generations, and I run it for all the right reasons. You … you, Mr. Christmas Galore, are just in it to make money.”

  “I thought there was room for both of our
businesses, but I can tell you if that is not the case, I’m afraid I won’t be the one closing my doors.”

  She turned and stormed off. Don’t cry, she told herself. Whenever she got this upset the tears threatened. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she walked by at least ten people who had stepped in closer to get an earful.

  Geoff couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked away.

  * * *

  Angela forced a smile toward a burly man with a dark tan and a shock of white hair. “I guess it’s not the season for forgiveness after all.” She’d never seen him before. Her luck, he probably worked for Geoff.

  The white-haired man gave her a little nod and salute as she whisked past him with Marie and Chrissy in her wake. She brushed her fingers across her lips where Geoff’s fingers had pressed against them.

  “Good heavens, Angela. What the heck was that all about?” Marie said as they practically jogged to the other end of the block. “Hold up. Chrissy can’t keep up.”

  Angela stopped and waited for them.

  “I haven’t seen you this spun up since the time Momma Grace took your library card after you fell asleep in class for staying up all night reading in your room with a flashlight.”

  “I loved reading. This is very different.” Angela craned her neck, checking to see if she could spot Geoff in the crowd. “He’s the enemy.”

  Marie snorted a laugh. “The enemy? Puh-lease. Angela, you are being way overdramatic. I get it. You’re not happy about their store coming to town, but I can assure you there is not a battle plan in their office somewhere. He did not come to the parade to track you down to have words in the middle of this crowd. Which, I might add, is full of customers. Not exactly flattering behavior for either one of you.”

  Chrissy reached for Angela’s hand. “Don’t be mad, Aunt Angela.”

  Angela relaxed a little. “I’m sorry, Chrissy. I’m messing up our fun night.” She gave a quick nod toward the corner. “Let’s find another perfect spot to watch. I think I see the floats coming.”

  Marie and Chrissy followed Angela through the crowd, with Rover leading the way.

  “Excuse me,” Angela said to a man wearing a holiday T-shirt that read, HAVE YOURSELF A SANDY LITTLE CHRISTMAS, across the front, probably from Christmas Galore. “Can we scoot in between you so our little one can see?”

  The man stepped back and let them ease in front of him. “Thank you so much.”

  Marie stepped next to Angela. “You look like you’re going to explode. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

  “I didn’t either.” She looked down the block to see if he was still standing down there.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Dear Santa,

  I’ve asked for a pretty pony for six years now and all you bring me are toy ones. I want the real kind that eat and poop. Bring me the real one this year or I’m going to have to go over your head.

  Thanks,

  Olivia

  After the parade Geoff walked back over to Christmas Galore, keeping one eye out for the feisty Christmas shopkeeper. Thankfully he made it back to the store without another altercation.

  He walked in the front door and was happy to see that Chandler had already moved the LED finger lights just like he’d asked him to, and at least ten kids were traipsing through the store with them on their hands already. Timing was everything and he always seemed to happen into the next big thing. Like that time in Nantucket when the young pilot whale had beached itself. He’d had two boxes of plush stuffed whales moved to the front of the store and dropped the price. Those whales had wings that day—practically flying off the shelves. What a big week that ended up being.

  When Geoff got to his office Virgil was walking down the hall toward him. “Where’ve you been? I was looking for you.”

  “I went over to see the parade. Took some pictures for Mom. I thought she’d like that.”

  “She will. Your mom has always loved that stuff.”

  “We used to go when I was a kid. I remember the year when I told her I was getting a little too old to go to Christmas parades. She looked so disappointed. I’d wanted to take those words back, but they were already out there.”

  “It’s hard to move backward. Which ties in to what I wanted to talk to you about. When she gets out of the hospital, we need to be sure she takes it easy.”

  Geoff shook his head. “That won’t be easy.”

  “I know. I don’t mean to gang up on her but I thought we might be more successful if we were at least on the same page.”

  “We are,” Geoff said. “Maybe we can talk her into taking the whole holiday off. Things are always slower paced in first quarter.”

  “That’s a good thought,” Virgil said. “I was going to go over and spend a little time with her tonight. Give you some time off. I’ll mention that.”

  “The nurse said she might sleep for a couple hours, but if she’s awake let her know I’ll see her in the morning? I’ll pick up where you leave off. We’ll work this out.”

  “Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I’ll tell her.”

  Suddenly Geoff had a free evening. He went back into his office and gathered his things. Once he got home he downloaded the Christmas parade pictures from his camera onto his computer, then worked on the graphics. Cropping and touching them up. In the one with the old truck, Angela was in the crowd.

  He regretted their conversation this evening.

  It was bad enough they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. It really hadn’t been his intention to put her out of business. Then he’d dug himself into a deeper hole when he gave his opinion on her store. What in the world had he been thinking? He hadn’t meant to belittle her store in any way. It really was charming, but clearly she could’ve done a few things differently and probably saved it from going under.

  Why had he gone on the defensive? If he were in her position, losing his company, he’d have been looking for a place to lay blame too. His mother wouldn’t be proud of how he’d handled the situation. That hadn’t gone well at all.

  He printed out the pictures to take to Mom in the morning. Before he closed his computer, he printed one more of the picture with Angela in it.

  Carrying the picture with him, he poured a glass of wine and sat down on the couch. Across the way he watched the activity on one of the boats in the marina. A few had Christmas lights strung on them. Another seemed to be getting ready tonight for a day of fishing tomorrow.

  It had taken him a while to get used to the boats dieseling out of the marina before sunrise, but now he didn’t even hear them leave. After they’d had a good haul he sure did hear them come back and celebrate, though. He fell asleep on the couch holding the picture of Angela.

  When he woke up he realized he’d been dreaming of her. Of his mother’s desire for grandchildren. Of himself as a father. That wasn’t about to happen any time soon.

  He shook the remnants of those dreams from his brain and grabbed his laptop. There’d be no going back to sleep for a while.

  The Dear Santa portal taunted him. The last thing he needed was his mother coming unglued if more letters had come in while she was away. He’d promised he’d answer them, and he really needed to answer as many as he could for her.

  Looking at the dashboard he was happy to see that there weren’t too many new ones.

  He went through them one by one, then answered the couple that he’d set aside from the other day. He was getting pretty good at this. After he hit send on the last one, he printed out the store reports for his mother.

  As he flipped from the Dear Santa app over to his email, he noticed an email had been routed from his gotmailnow account to his computer mail. He’d only made that gotmailnow account for one reason: to write back to Anita C. Miracle to prove that he wasn’t an autoresponder.

  Well, that and to keep up the dialogue.

  His heart did a little two-step. He hadn’t really expected to ever hear from her again, but he had hoped he would.

  He opened h
er email.

  Dear Guy Formerly Known as Santa,

  Thank you for responding. For being kind. For understanding.

  Hearing from you lifted my mood as much as if I’d just received a basket of daisies at just the right time. Daisies are the happiest flowers. I love them. They might be the cheapest bouquet in the store, but they are always full of cheer. Your notes have that effect on me. They make me smile, and I need smiles right now.

  It’s so funny to me how some people can hide behind “it’s just business” when they behave badly. I had a miserable confrontation with someone today. I stooped to his level. I was mean, and I’m never mean.

  I’m probably on the naughty list now.

  Thank you for spreading joy.

  Sincerely,

  A

  He typed a response.

  Dear A,

  I wish you all the best. I’m so tempted to say things happen for a reason, and that something even better is probably around the corner for you. I believe that. I really do, but I can imagine it feels like an empty line when you’re in the middle of something like what you are going through.

  So instead, I’ll say … if you were a friend of mine, I’d bring you a poinsettia and daisy bouquet to cheer you up.

  Wishing you a day of smiles, and the most memorable Christmas of your life,

  Guy

  He pressed send. He felt bad for these people who were losing their businesses. Especially at the holidays. The economy had been tough on everyone, but small businesses were the most likely to get gobbled up in these times. Especially in small towns like the ones where he had stores.

  Before he could even stand to take his glass into the kitchen, his computer beeped.

  A quick glance indicated he had another email routed from his new gotmailnow account.

  She must’ve been sitting right there when he’d responded to her.

  Dear Guy,

  Poinsettias and daisies? I can’t believe you just said that. They are both my favorite flowers. I’d never once imagined them together in the same bouquet. A stunning combination I’m sure. I have a potted poinsettia on my desk right now. I’m so tempted to run to the grocery store and buy one of those little bundles of daisies now. You definitely put a smile in my day with that thought. And it is the thought that counts after all. Thank you for that.