Christmas Wishlist

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  Abby shook her head. “Our Mom doesn’t. She says nobody older’n eight believes in Santa.”

  “She says Santa’s a myth.” The string of s sounds lisped through the gap in Andy’s teeth. “She says he’s just a made-up story. She says we don’t need Santa to have a nice Christmas.”

  Abby nodded concurrence. “She says we don’t need a daddy, either.”

  He was in over his head here, Gabe realized belatedly. But he was not going to tell these two fatherless kids they didn’t need a dad, let alone that there wasn’t a Santa Claus. Let their mother be the Grinch. She was obviously a bitter wrinkled-up old crone who sapped all the wonder out of Christmas and begrudged her children the magic of fantasy. Plus, she’d had the gall to call him a “Bo Zo” when he couldn’t even recall who she was. “Your mother’s wrong,” he stated firmly, sitting straighter in his chair. “Santa Claus is as real as you are.”

  “He is?”

  “He is?”

  Their voices were out of sync, but their desire for reassurance was unanimous. Gabe nodded. “He’s real.”

  Andy and Abby grinned at each other, then beamed their delight on Gabe. “Do you know how reindeer fly?” Andy asked, his eager tone revealing that this, too, was an important question.

  Gabe barely hesitated. If he was going to get hanged for a liar, he wanted the lies to be his best. “Special hay,” he answered. “It’s very rare. Only grows in the Alps, and there’s only enough to feed eight reindeer for one day every year. Oops. Did I say eight reindeer? I meant to say ten. I forgot about Rudolph, and he eats enough for two.”

  The twins traded excited glances, and then Abby nailed him with a candid “What do you know about the elves?”

  “Let’s see...” Gabe searched his memory for any and all elf info. “They’re usually short, but that isn’t a requirement. They usually have pointed ears, although that’s not always true, either. They wear a lot of green. They have funny-looking hats and...shoes with bells on the toes.” Feeling pleased with those imaginative little details, he checked the twins’ expressions and realized they were expecting something more. “Hmm...” he said. “What else could you want to know about Santa’s elves?”

  “Their names,” Andy supplied readily. “We want to know their names.”

  “Uh, sure.” Gabe didn’t have any idea whether elves even had names. “Um... Dancer, Prancer, Donner and Blitzen....”

  “Those are the reindeer,” Abby informed him with a frown. “Everybody knows that.”

  Gabe thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand and won an engaging pair of giggles for his trouble. “You’re absolutely right, Abby. What was I thinking? The elves are named...um...well, there’s Doc and Spock, they’re the oldest. Then there’s Eeeney, Meeney, Miney, and Moe. Buttons and Bo. Curly, Larry and Joe. Ellen and Oprah. Dave, Jay and Conan...” He ran out of talk-show hosts and inspiration. “I’d better stop there, because I’m bound to leave one out, and you know how sensitive elves can be.”

  Abby nodded, as if she were well acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of the world’s elf population. Andy scooted back in the red leather chair and ran his hands back and forth over the wooden arms in a brisk, energetic rhythm, while his legs and feet moved together and apart, together and apart, in an alternate cadence. “So how long will it take you to find him?” he asked.

  Gabe was mesmerized by the abundant energy and sheer coordination going on in the red chairs. He’d once been able to rub his stomach and pat his head at the same time, but he hadn’t tried it in years. “Find who?”

  “Santa Claus,” came the rather impatient answer. “We’ve only got a few more days before it’s...”

  “Before it’s too late. I remember.” Gabe stroked his thumb across his jaw. He should never have let these kids start talking. Now, they not only thought he’d agreed to work for them, they expected him to find Santa. As if Santa Claus were missing. As if there weren’t one on every street corner in the city at this time of year. “Look, kiddos, I can’t take your money under false pretenses. You can find the fat guy without my help.”

  “Where?” Abby asked with sharp suspicion.

  “Well, have you tried Macy’s? I hear he hangs out there right up through Christmas Eve.”

  “We don’t go to Macy’s.” Abby’s black patent shoes made a continuing thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud against the leather chair seat. “Mom doesn’t shop there.”

  “And she wouldn’t take us to see Santa in a million years no matter where he was.” Andy’s chin quivered, and for a horrifying moment, Gabe thought the kid was going to cry, but he just scratched his nose. “She doesn’t believe in Santa. She says no one older’n eight...”

  “...believes in Santa Claus.” Gabe completed the sentence with resignation. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

  “Find him,” Abby said. “Find the real Santa.”

  “Then what?” Gabe leaned back in his chair, liking the familiar squeak it made, feeling sorry that the mother of these two kids couldn’t let them enjoy something as harmless as Santa Claus. “Do you want me to give him a list of all the toys you want for Christmas?”

  Abby looked at her brother, whose serious expression convinced Gabe it wasn’t going to be easy to wiggle out of this bargain. “We want you to find Santa for our mom,” Andy said. “Because when she sees he’s a real person, she’ll have to believe in him, and it won’t be too late, anymore, and she’ll be really happy.”

  Unselfishness in anyone made Gabe suspicious...and kids were no exception. “So, other than making your mom happy, what else do you two want from old Santa? A pony? A trip to Disney World?”

  In one glance, the twins shared a private conversation, and then Abby scooted off the chair. Taking a folded piece of paper from her pocket, she walked around the desk, right up next to Gabe, and held it out for him to see. “I couldn’t spell all the words, so I had to draw a picture.”

  Andy left his chair to come around on Gabe’s other side. He pointed to the stick figures on the page. “That’s me,” he said. “And that’s Abby. And that one’s Mom.”

  Abby took over the narration. “And that’s our cat, Matilda, and our dog, Sparky. That’s Santa Claus and there’s his reindeer and that’s a real ice-skating rink in the woods, and these are trees beside the house, and here’s where we bake cookies, and that’s our Christmas tree that we decorated ourselves.”

  “And that’s a turkey, ’cause we don’t want to eat spaghetti on Christmas.” Andy leaned on the arm of Gabe’s chair, feet swinging, face turned upward, his gap-toothed smile eager and excited. “And that’s what we want. A real Christmas.”

  “Like the pictures in the magazine.” Abby hooked her body over the other chair arm and swung her feet from side to side. “We want a whole week of Christmas.”

  “May I?” Gabe took the picture from Abby and frowned at the unnamed—and very blue—stick figure. “Who’s this?”

  Abby checked the drawing. “That’s our dad. Except he’s not real, ’cause we don’t have a dad.”

  Gabe wondered what had happened to their father and immediately decided that Kate Harmon, whoever she was, was responsible for his absence. After all, any woman who told her children they didn’t need a father would be rough to live with. He studied the picture, and then, against his better judgment, he looked in turn at each of the sincere, freckled faces on either side of him. In their eyes, he saw a skepticism far beyond their years...and a hope far beyond their ability to articulate.

  He knew he had no business getting mixed up with these two, that he couldn’t deliver the real Santa, much less their high expectations for a real Christmas...whatever that was. But he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been asked to do anything so appealing, and he certainly didn’t remember the last time he’d considered doing something just to make the world a better pla
ce for someone else. Two someones, in this case. Three, if he counted himself. The twins were looking at him as if he were a hero...and he liked it. He liked it a lot. Reaching past the swinging duo, he punched the intercom button on his phone and buzzed Louisa.

  “Bring in the contract for detective services,” he told her when she answered.

  “We don’t have a contract for—”

  “Ms. Feigle,” he said, short-circuiting her denial, “it’s all right. You can bring in the secret contract.”

  “The secret contract,” she repeated, as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Yes, and the pens that write with invisible ink.” He punched off the connection and smiled at his new clients. “Well, kiddos, it looks like you’ve just hired yourselves a real Bo Zo.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  KATHERINE PULLED OPEN the etched-glass entry door of Housley Security, took a deep breath, and stepped inside, reminding herself—again—that she could handle Gabe Housley. So he’d kissed her once. Well, actually, she’d kissed him once and he’d kissed her back. It had meant nothing at the time. It certainly meant nothing now, nearly a year later. She barely remembered the incident. There was no doubt in her mind that Gabe had forgotten it ten seconds after it happened.

  “May I help you?”

  The cheerful voice belonged to the receptionist, a young woman who looked fourteen and was, maybe, twenty-two...at the outside. Katherine had expected as much. Men like Gabe Housley always had office staff that were long on looks and short on experience. “I’m Katherine Harmon,” she told the girl. “Someone called my office a few minutes ago and said my children were here?”

  “Oh, that was me. I’m Wendy. Mr. Housley asked me to call so you wouldn’t be worried.” Her smile revealed what looked to be clear braces across her upper teeth, and Katherine revised her estimated age to under twenty. “They’re in his office,” Wendy continued, “having their ’pointment, as Abby called it. Abby, that’s your daughter’s name, right?” She barely paused for Katherine’s affirming nod. “Well, Abby and Andy are just the cutest things I’ve ever seen. And so grown-up. I mean, they walked right in here and said they needed to see the detective of the house. Isn’t that cute? Even Aunt Louisa cracked a smile, and nobody—except Mr. Gun—can get her to smile.”

  Something no one would say about Wendy, obviously, as her smile was very much in evidence. Katherine tried to be patient, but she just wanted to get her hands on the cutest twins and get out of this office. “Where are they?” she asked.

  “In Gabe’s—I mean, Mr. Housley’s office—finishing their ’pointment. I’ll take you back. The phones aren’t that busy, anyway.” The phone lines rang several times in annoying succession as Wendy pulled off her headset and pushed back her chair. Still smiling, she motioned for Katherine to follow her down one of the two hallways that angled away from the reception desk, and kept on talking. “It must just be so much fun to be the mother of twins. They are just soooo—”

  “Cute.” Katherine supplied the adjective this time, and managed to hold the corners of her mouth at a noncommittal slant. “My life would be a wasteland without them.”

  Wendy nodded her complete understanding. “I can imagine. I’d love to have twins. That would be so cool. Not now. I mean, I have to get married first.” She laughed confidingly. “It does take two, doesn’t it? Have you ever met Gabe? Mr. Housley, I mean. I think he is just to die for. And he knows tons of famous people.” Her hand floated past a wall of memorabilia, tapping an autographed photo here, a framed newspaper clipping there. “I got to meet George Clooney last time he was in New York. He has the most wonderful smile, you know. Well, here you are....” She stopped talking abruptly and opened a door at the end of the hall.

  It wasn’t the way Katherine had hoped to make her entrance. In truth, she’d hoped she wouldn’t even have to set eyes on the owner of Housley Security. More to the point, she’d hoped he wouldn’t get to set eyes on her. But here she was, standing awkwardly in the doorway, staring at him and waiting for the moment when he would look up from where he perched on the corner of his desk and see her.

  Not that he would recognize her.

  Not that she wanted him to.

  But then he turned his head, and there was no mistaking the lightning-quick glint of recognition in his eyes...or the tug of reluctant pleasure at the corners of his mouth. Fantastic, she thought as the stiffening seeped from her knees. She knew it was simply unfortunate that the twins had invaded this office instead of the insurance company on the floor above, but she couldn’t understand why she had the consistently bad luck to be overwhelmed by attraction every time she saw the man.

  And it was strange because Gabe Housley wasn’t even close to being the type of man she usually found attractive. He wasn’t some movie star she could weave totally harmless fantasies around. He wasn’t even good-looking...although there was something warmly appealing about his eyes. And when his lips quirked in that funny way that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t exactly a frown, either... Well, she could understand how some women would find that attractive. But not her. And certainly not now.

  “So, you’re Kate,” Gabe said softly, as if there were only the two of them in the room...as if Wendy weren’t grinning like Tinker Bell with a new wand as she backed into the hallway and closed the door behind her...as if the silver-haired woman with the sheaf of papers in her hands weren’t staring at Katherine with proprietary sternness...as if the twins weren’t chattering like Pete and Repeat...as if he, Gabe, had been looking for her, Katherine, all of his life.

  Snapping her knees into lock-support position, she lifted her chin and nipped that particular fantasy in the bud. “You have me confused with someone else,” she said in a cooler-than-a-peppermint tone of voice. “I’m Katherine Harmon. I’m here to pick up my children.”

  Her voice brought Abby’s head popping into view around the side of one of the chairs, while Andy scrambled to stand on the seat and peer over the hobnailed back of the other.

  “Mom!” Abby’s eyes widened in alarm.

  “Mom!” Andy’s astonishment was quickly tempered with a virtuous-sounding “Were you lookin’ for us, Mom?”

  In the blink of an eye, Abby transformed her expression of surprise into one of angelic innocence. “Bet you’re wonderin’ what me and Andy are doin’ here, aren’t ya, Mom?”

  “Don’t tell, Abby.” Andy growled the warning from his superior height. “It’s a secret.”

  “I know it’s a secret, dummy.” She wiggled until her body was hooked like a hairpin around the side of the chair, and the moment she had a clear view of her brother, she stuck out her tongue. “I wasn’t going to tell her.” She tried to wiggle back around, and would have tipped over if Gabe hadn’t reached out to steady the chair.

  “Hold on there, Rapunzel,” he said. “You’re about to fall from your tower.”

  Abby giggled, and Andy, seeing that his sister was the center of attention, clambered onto the arms of his chair. “Hey, look at me!” he yelled, and prepared to dive over the top.

  Moving quickly, Katherine caught him around the waist and set him, feet first, on the floor. “This is an office, not a playground,” she said firmly as she grabbed the straps of Abby’s pink overalls, lifted her from the chair arm and set her to rights, as well. Then she steeled herself and made actual eye contact with Gabe...just to prove she had no memory whatsoever of kissing him under the mistletoe in this very office last Christmas Eve. “I’m very sorry they bothered you, Mr. Housley. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

  “It won’t? Are you sure?”

  Why, she wondered, did she have to notice that his voice was rich and warm? And thick with a humor that, somehow, felt as if it were at her expense? “Of course I’m sure,” she answered testily as she herded her progeny toward the door. “I can control my children.”

 
“If this afternoon is any example, I’d say you’re being very naive and extremely optimistic.”

  Katherine turned so fast she nearly toppled the twins...but she didn’t let go of Abby’s overalls or take her hand off Andy’s head. “I beg your pardon?”

  Gabe straightened away from the desk, forcing her to remember a few things she’d tried to forget...how tall he was, for one thing, and how broad his shoulders, for another. “I said, if this afternoon is any example, you’re being—”

  “I heard the rest, Mr. Housley, and I assure you I’m quite capable of keeping my children out of your office.” She had to grapple for balance as Abby hopped forward and Andy tried to scrunch out from under her oppressive hand on the other side. “Today just involved an unusual set of circumstances,” she continued, as if she were having no problem at all keeping her children under control. “All youngsters get a little overexcited this close to Christmas, but I promise you there’s no danger of your seeing Andy and Abby in your office again after today.”

  Abby halted midhop. Andy stopped squirming. “Yes, he will, too, Mom,” Abby informed her for a fact. “He’ll see us tomorrow. Me and Andy already got a ’pointment, don’t we, Aunt Louisa?”

  Katherine’s gaze flew to the silver-haired woman, whose smile lit her face in agreement. “Yes, darling, you do,” Louisa said.

  “No, Abby, you don’t.” Katherine overruled. “That woman is not your aunt, and you do not have an appointment to see Mr. Housley tomorrow or any other day.”

  Andy tugged on the seam of her wool slacks. “You can call him Gabe, Mom. He said it was okay. And if you ask real nice, I bet Aunt Louisa would be your aunt, too.”

  “Maybe...” Abby obviously wasn’t keen on that idea. “But Gabe can’t be your detective, ’cause we hired him first. And that means we can have a ’pointment anytime we want to. He said so.”

  “Abby!” Andy exclaimed. “You weren’t ’sposed to tell that we hired a detective!”