by Jenny Hale
“Thank you for waiting, children,” he said in a deep dreamy voice that projected across the entire room. “My reindeer get hungry and if I don’t take a break and feed them, they start stomping on the roof! It’s very annoying. Now, let me just get comfortable,” he said, sitting down on his throne. “Our snow queen, Catherine, will keep you company while you wait your turn.”
Abbey watched as the first child walked up to the woman in the big, white dress. She looked every bit the part of a snow queen. “Hello,” she said quietly as Santa wriggled himself comfortable in his chair. “What is your name?”
“Timothy,” the little boy said shyly.
“Timothy,” she said slightly louder, and Abbey caught on to their theatrics. “Timothy,” she said again, “have you come to sit on Santa’s lap?” Santa scratched his ear as the boy nodded. “Well… Timothy, you may go right ahead.”
Across the stage, Santa, who seemed too far away to hear Timothy’s conversation with the snow queen, turned and said, “Well, Timothy! It’s great to see you! How have you been this year?” The boy climbed up on Santa’s lap, and Max turned around with an astonished look on his face. Watching it all play out, seeing Santa Claus greet every child by name as they climbed up on stage—it was like a real fairytale.
Before she knew it, it was Max’s turn and he was talking to Catherine. After she spoke to him, she was nodding, smiling, and he looked nervous standing on that stage under the bright lights, but as Santa called out, “Max!” his face lit up and he nearly ran to Santa and climbed on his lap.
A bright bolt of light flashed, causing Max to blink several times. When he seemed to clear his vision, Max unrolled the balled paper in his hand and began to read his list. “I’d like an iPad, a skateboard, a scooter, a Willie Mays baseball card…” That baseball card was because of Gramps. It was his favorite player. The bare minimum value for a Willie Mays card was probably a hundred dollars. They went up to the thousands. Abbey swallowed to alleviate the lump that was forming. This Christmas, she’d have the money for all those things.
With a wave to Santa, Max came barreling toward her, slamming into her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “That was the real Santa!” he said.
Max would know better next year, and he’d never believe the mall Santa was the real Santa. She’d have to bring him back here next year. Making sure to keep the magic of believing in Santa alive was important to her.
When Abbey was a girl, her mom had worked hard to keep the magic alive, and when she’d finally told Abbey the truth, she explained that Santa was really a way to explain faith. We have to have faith in things we can’t see sometimes, and if we believe, we may discover goodness beyond our dreams. That had stuck with Abbey all her life, and she wanted to be able to have that same talk with her own son. But she wanted the timing to be just right. She didn’t want that magic ruined by a Santa at the mall that didn’t live up to this moment.
Nick stepped away just as Max pulled at her arm. “Mama! Can you believe we really met the real Santa? He was so different! We’ve been going all this time to the mall and that was only his helper! He knew my name! Maybe that’s why I never got what was on my list! Now, I’m sure to be one of the kids this year!”
Abbey tried to squelch her worry. If they continued to visit the Children’s Museum each Christmas to see Santa, would Max expect to get everything on his list every year?
Nick returned, carrying a small white bag. He handed it over to her. “I got five three-and-a-half-by-five-size photos, six five-by-sevens, and four eight-by-tens. Just to be on the safe side, I paid to have the digital image emailed to my personal account because that has copyright release. I’ll forward it to you. I would’ve gotten your email, but I was already paying, and Max had your attention.”
She opened the bag and slid an eight-by-ten out to view it. Max was adorable. He had a gorgeous smile on his face as he looked up at Santa Claus.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling a little uncomfortable about taking the photos. Nick had easily just spent a hundred dollars or more and she wasn’t used to receiving gifts of that size. She wouldn’t be able to repay him with a gift of comparable sentiment.
“You’re welcome.”
“Can we play with the boats now?” Max asked.
“Yes, we can,” she said, rummaging in her purse as they crossed the lobby to the ticket counter. She only had seven dollars. That wasn’t enough for one admission ticket. She pulled out her credit card.
Abbey had one credit card for emergencies. She never used it because she was terrible at keeping track of what she’d spent, and she didn’t make enough each month to pay it off. She believed that if she couldn’t pay for things with cash, she didn’t need to have them. Even knowing she was getting the money, it felt odd using it.
“Two, please,” she said to the woman behind the counter.
“I invited you,” Nick said. “It’s my treat.”
The woman behind the counter paused, holding the credit card, clearly unsure of how to proceed.
“You don’t have to pay for us,” she said.
“I’m sure I don’t, but I want to. As a friendly gesture.”
“Do you want me to run this credit card?” the woman said from behind the counter. Max was sitting on the floor, waiting, his knees pulled up, and his arms around them.
“Yes, thank you,” Abbey said back to the woman. She turned to Nick, feeling awkward about having her employer spend his money on her. Even though he had it to spend, she wanted to do this on her own. “Thank you so much for your offer, but it’s really fine.”
The woman walked from behind the counter with a pen so that Abbey could sign the receipt. With one hand, Abbey pressed the receipt against the wall and wrote her name with the other.
Max ran ahead to a life-size apple tree. It spit red plastic balls out of chutes that kids could collect with baskets as if they were apples. “Max, the boats are over here,” Abbey said, smiling at his excitement.
Max dropped his basket and followed her to a long, narrow water table that snaked through the museum. It had little waterfalls, canals for the boats, and different levers and hinges to change direction.
One of the attendants bent down next to Max. “I’m Carrie,” she said with a warm smile. She grabbed an apron from a peg on the wall nearby and put it on Max, tying it in the back. He already had his hands in the water, grabbing different boats and moving them along their paths. Abbey smiled at the woman’s easy way with children as she helped each one up to the water table.
“This really is an amazing place,” Abbey said to the woman.
“I agree,” Carrie said. “I transferred here last year from Wilmington. I love Richmond. It’s a good place to raise kids. My husband, Adam, and I are expecting our first! Well, I have two stepchildren—twins. They’re very excited.”
“Congratulations,” Abbey said.
“Thank you! We’re all planned and ready!”
“Look, Nick!” Max said, pushing his boat under a waterfall that made it spin and go in a different direction. Nick smiled and leaned over his shoulder to see.
Abbey watched Carrie walk away, hoping she knew how lucky she was to be having children at a time when she felt completely ready. How much easier it would’ve been for Abbey if she’d been able to plan and prepare. She’d had to build her confidence as a mother, but now, looking at her son, she wondered if things really did happen for a reason. They were just fine now.
“I love boats,” Max said, making a motor noise and pulling a handle to change the path.
“Have you ever been on a boat before?” Nick asked.
“No. Have you ever been on a boat, Nick?” he asked.
“I have.” Nick smiled down at Max, and Abbey could see a gleam in Nick’s eyes. He was enjoying himself.
Max played for ages. When he had finally told Abbey that he was getting hungry, she asked if Nick would take them home. Nick politely drove them through the city headed to her apartment, but s
omething in her clicked. Maybe it was the spruce wreaths on all the buildings, the Christmas trees on every street corner, or the white wicker animals the city put out every year that peppered the lawns of the high-rises, every inch of them covered in white lights. Abbey felt, suddenly, that she wanted to do something for Nick. Why did he have to show her a good time? She had an idea.
“May I take you somewhere?” she asked.
He turned and looked at her as he pulled up to a stoplight.
“Max,” she said, twisting to see him in the backseat. “Want to take Nick to La Esquina Loca?”
“Yes!” Max said as he wriggled in his booster seat with excitement. “May I get the tortilla chips?”
“Absolutely.” Abbey laughed quietly. She’d never told him that the tortilla chips were complimentary. She turned to Nick. “Feel like a little Mexican food tonight? It’s delicious.”
“What’s it called again?” he asked, putting on his blinker and making a turn.
“La Esquina Loca, The Crazy Corner. Ever been there?” It was famous for its one-dollar-taco night and strong margaritas, and it belonged to her friend, Alma. It was time she showed Nick Sinclair how she had fun.
“I haven’t been there,” he said.
“Wanna go?”
“Of course I want to go. I have to see what The Crazy Corner is all about.”
“Well then,” she said with a big smile. “Turn right at the next light.”
Abbey gave directions until they pulled up at a small, freestanding building that used to be an old mechanic’s garage. It had been completely transformed, but the original garage doors remained and their masses of square windows were full of twinkle lights and light-up strings of red peppers. Nick reached around Abbey to open the restaurant door, jingling the bells that were tied to it.
“Abbey!” said a young woman with olive skin and jet-black hair, her gold hoop earrings giving her the air of a movie star. She gave Abbey a hug with one arm, the other filled with menus. Afterward, she tousled Max’s hair. “Have you been taking care of your mamá?” she asked.
“Yes,” he giggled.
Abbey turned to Nick. “This is Alma. She’s my good friend and part owner here.”
Nick held out his hand in greeting and Alma shook it as Abbey finished the introductions. “Alma, this is Nick.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile that could light up a room. “Come with me. I have a table ready right now. The mariachi band will be starting soon.”
“Awesome,” Abbey said with a devious smile.
As Nick led Max to their table, Alma caught Abbey’s eye and offered a loaded wink in her direction. “Cute,” she mouthed in encouragement.
Before they could even get comfortable, a waiter set down a basket of tortilla chips and poured a bowl of salsa, then disappeared. As Max dipped into the tortillas, Nick looked around. Abbey followed his gaze, seeing the restaurant through new eyes. The walls were stucco-style, with a warm yellow finish, Mexican paintings with bright reds, blues, and greens dotting their surface. Potted palm trees sat at the corners, their trunks covered in multi-colored Christmas lights, the light from the traditional Mexican lanterns matching them almost perfectly. The table was decoupage, with postcards from Mexican beaches. The whole place was just lovely.
A few moments later Alma stopped by their table and slid across two enormous frozen margaritas, the rim salted heavily with large rock salt, and floating in the center was a paper umbrella and a plastic snowman figurine. “On the house,” she said with another wink. “Merry Christmas.”
“Aw, thank you!” Abbey said feeling affectionate toward her friend. It was a very nice gesture.
Another man came up behind her and set down a small kids’ drink for Max. It, too, was frozen but pink in color, and it had a snowman wearing sunglasses hugging a rainbow-colored straw. “Feliz Navidad,” he said with a smile that showed all his bright white teeth.
“Merry Christmas,” Abbey returned to both of them with an appreciative nod.
“Have you ever had a margarita?” she asked Nick as he studied the menu.
“I’ve never had one like this one before,” he said with a smile.
“It’s really good, but if you drink it all, you may be calling Richard to come get us. Be careful. It’s potent.”
“I’m not sure what to get,” Nick said honestly as he looked over the menu.
“The tacos are so good, Nick,” Max said as he colored his kid menu with the little pot of crayons the restaurant had supplied next to the salt, pepper, and habanero hot sauce. “Alma makes deeeeelicious tacos.”
Abbey giggled at her son. “Alma doesn’t make them all. She has cooks who do it,” she said.
“Well she makes them at our house and they’re yummy!”
“I’ll have to tell her that,” Abbey said. She looked over her menu at Nick. “All the recipes here were passed down from Alma’s mother and grandmother. She makes amazing pork tamales. But Max is right. She makes wonderful tacos too.”
“It’s settled then,” Nick said as he closed his menu. “If Max says the tacos are the best, then I’ll have to try them.”
“Looks like we’re all getting tacos,” Abbey said.
“Try the salsa,” Max said, scooting the small molcajete-style bowl in Nick’s direction.
Nick pinched a tortilla from the basket and dipped it in, scooping a large pile of salsa onto his chip. He took a bite, having to hold his napkin over his mouth to keep the salsa from dripping into his lap.
“It’s a little messy sometimes, but it’s good!” Max said.
“It is good,” Nick said.
A man that Abbey recognized as Alma’s brother, Carlos, came to take their order. Abbey ordered for everyone. Just as they were left alone again, the mariachi band started in the far corner. It was a large group all holding instruments: eight violins, two trumpets, what Alma told her once was a guitarrón, and a guitar. The music was loud, fast, and Abbey could feel the excitement of the notes bouncing through her chest. She sipped her margarita, the alcohol warming her cheeks while her fingertips stayed cold from the ice. Nick turned toward the band. They all looked so sharp in their black suits with silver accents, red scarves, and sombreros. It was a departure from Nick’s classical piano, but their skill was evident immediately.
Men in white shirts and sombreros entered the small dance floor where the mariachi was playing followed by women in brightly colored, big, flowing skirts, the hems made of lace. The women grabbed the men’s hands and began to spin around, their skirts fanning out along the dance floor, revealing their black, heeled shoes.
Nick’s eyes still on the dancers, he grabbed his drink off the table and took a sip, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
“Do you like it?” Abbey asked over the music.
“It’s amazing,” he said, still not making eye contact.
The women flipped the hems of their dresses to the music while leaning toward their male counterparts. Max was sipping his drink, tortilla crumbs on the table in front of him as he jiggled to the beat of the music. Then, Abbey saw Nick’s eyes widen as the dancers began to pull people onto the dance floor. Since they were waiting for their food, she knew that it was a possibility they’d be chosen, but she also knew Alma well, and she would probably have interpreted Abbey’s earlier “Awesome” comment, when she’d mentioned the band, and told the dancers to choose Abbey’s table.
Sure enough, two of them were standing in front of Abbey and Nick, their hands outstretched, waiting for them to stand up. Nick looked over at Abbey for what to do next. With a grin, Abbey stood up and took the man’s hand. Reluctantly, Nick took the woman’s and they were on the dance floor. As the man spun Abbey around, she leaned over mid-spin and said to Nick, “I’ll teach you how. Alma taught us this dance, didn’t she, Max?” Max, who’d been scooped up by one of the women, was wriggling his way down her torso, trying to get to the dance floor himself.
“Yes!” he said, his little feet tapp
ing to the music.
Alma walked by and grinned in Abbey’s direction. The two dancers paired up, leaving Abbey and Nick together.
“Hold my hand,” she said, clasping her fingers in his and pulling his arm above her head. She began to spin, and she noticed his eyes were on her with each turn. After a few spins, she let go and fanned out an invisible skirt just as the dancers did theirs, and she shuffled her feet back and forth. The trumpets sang out their blaring, feisty music alongside the violins as the two of them moved to the beat, Abbey showing Nick where to put his hands and feet. He followed her every movement, his eyes intense and happy in a way she’d not experienced before.
They danced for quite a while, completing the same three or four steps she’d taught him to keep things easy. Once he’d gotten the hang of it, Nick was strong as he held her, deliberate with his movements, and confident as a lead. He pulled her close, just as she noticed that it wasn’t a rehearsed dance move. His arms were around her. He looked down at her, the music loud in her ears. He smiled and leaned toward her.
“Thank you for bringing me tonight,” he said into her ear, his breath tickling her, giving her a shiver. As he pulled back, his lips grazed her cheek, and it would’ve been so easy to catch them with her own and touch her lips to his. She’d only realized then that they’d stopped dancing. He was looking down at her like he wanted to kiss her, and she was willing him with everything she had inside to give into the impulse. The music dwindled to a stop, and Max grabbed Abbey’s hand and pulled her away from Nick against her will.
“The food’s here,” Max said.
They all sat down and Nick took a huge swig of his drink. Abbey did the same. It took her a minute to come down to earth from that moment on the dance floor.
Nick took another drink of his margarita as he watched Abbey pick up a taco. She noticed how his shoulders had slacked, the way he was leaning against the back of the seat, his arm draped along the chair beside him and a smile on his lips. She’d never seen him this relaxed.