A half hour later, she was facing Max Costanza, a small platoon of reporters, and the information that her children were taking legal action against her to preserve their right to a champion schnauzer, a pedigreed cat, and the Christmas advertised in the December issue of Contemporary Woman. Oh, and just incidentally, Max added with barely concealed glee, the children felt it ought to be their right to believe in Santa Claus, even if she didn’t.
The not-so-good something had a name...the Santa suit.
* * *
MAX COSTANZA WAS a man of short stature and tall ambitions. He had an eye for the prize and a profile heaven-made for the camera. But even though he had the glib tongue and quick wit to turn the twins’ desire to believe in Santa Claus into a three-day media circus, Katherine couldn’t figure out how he’d been able to convince Judge Robert Abernathy to grant a hearing on the matter. Even her attorney, Smitty Goldman, couldn’t offer any better explanation than that the holidays were a slow time at the courthouse.
Still, Katherine was amazed to find herself sitting in a courtroom the following afternoon. She wasn’t, however, in the least surprised when Gabe—who had been conspicuously absent and unavailable for questioning during the preceding twenty-four hours, slipped into a seat behind her in the courtroom and leaned forward to say, “Sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner. I’ve been reading about it in the papers, though. How’re you doing?”
She looked at him with eyes so cool it was a miracle he didn’t freeze right there in his seat. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said sarcastically. “I’m having a wonderful time.”
His warm brown eyes just smiled blithely into her stormy grays. “You’ve certainly been getting a lot of publicity. I don’t think there’s a copy of Contemporary Woman left anywhere in the tristate area. That’s one good thing, anyway.”
One good thing. He had the audacity to say that to her... And when she saw the twins wave to him happily from their seats across the way from hers, she was ready to sue him for alienation of affection. Not that she really had a case against him—obviously her children didn’t like her any less because they also liked him—but it was apparent that no one needed a case to file suit in this city. And if she had to sit through this mockery of a hearing on the custody of two animals and some legal clown’s assertion that she was somehow preventing her children from having a satisfactory relationship with Santa Claus, then she could surely sue Gabe because she didn’t like his annoying quirk of a smile.
Gun slipped into the seat next to Gabe, and when Katherine glanced coolly at him, too, he winked and gave her a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Bob’s a fair judge. I’ve known him for years.”
Katherine turned an accusing gaze on Gabe. “The monthly poker game, I assume.”
Gabe looked a little guilty. “Dad has never once beaten the judge.”
“I have to let him win,” Gun explained. “Never know when you may need a legal favor.”
Katherine saw Gabe nudge Gun with a cautioning elbow, but as Judge Robert “Poker Face” Abernathy chose that moment to bang his gavel and quiet the hubbub in the courtroom, she let it slip past unchallenged.
Abby and Andy took the stand together, looking a little nervous, but determined to enjoy all the attention they were receiving. At home, they were subdued and well aware that they had not only stepped over the line of acceptable behavior, but had really hurt Katherine’s feelings in the bargain. She’d made certain they knew exactly how she felt about their actions. She’d also made certain they understood how much she loved them and that she would forgive them. But she didn’t tell them she laid the entire blame for this whole sordid episode at Gabe’s door. He could look at her with those brown eyes all he wanted. She wasn’t forgiving him.
“We just want our dog, Sparky, to come home,” Andy told the hushed courtroom toward the end of Max Costanza’s melodramatic questioning.
“And The Real Cat Matilda,” Abby added.
“And you want to believe in Santa Claus,” Max prodded. “Isn’t that right?”
The twins nodded in an alternating agreement. “We’d like to believe he’s real,” Andy said. “Before we get too old to believe, like our mom did.”
“Soooo...” Max drew out the word like an accusation, turning his body toward Katherine, his profile toward the camera. “Your mother doesn’t believe in Santa Claus...and she won’t let you believe in him, either. Is that correct?”
Next to Katherine, Smitty jumped to his feet. “Your Honor, my client has a perfect right to rear her children within the parameters of her own belief system. This court has no jurisdiction over the way she chooses to do that.”
“Your Honor!” Max exclaimed. “She’s denying these precious children a treasured piece of their childhood, the respect of their peers, the magic of Christmas, the—”
“Yes, yes, Max,” Judge Abernathy said, interrupting him. “But let’s get to the bottom line here. Miss Harmon?”
Katherine got to her feet. “Yes?”
“Can these kids have their pets back?”
She thought about arguing, but she simply wanted out of this courtroom, out of reach of the slow-news-day media mentality. “The pets can come home,” she said. “Providing the person who gave them to Abby and Andy contracts a reputable, dependable pet-care service.”
“Done.” Judge Abernathy struck another blow with the gavel. “Anything else?”
Katherine began to feel better. “As a matter of fact, I do have something to say. There has been a great deal said about my unwillingness to let my children believe in Santa Claus. I would just like to point out that no one has said or done anything here to change my mind. But to show that I am fair-minded, I’ll be perfectly happy to admit I was wrong and to let Andy and Abby believe in Santa Claus...if there is anyone in this courtroom who can prove he really does exist.”
The judge leaned to the side, zeroing in on Gabe and Gun. “This would be the time for one of you heroes to jump in here and take the challenge.”
“Your Honor.” Max protested the swing of attention away from his worthy self. “I can’t believe you’re willing to let this matter disintegrate into a philosophical battle. It’s perfectly obvious these children are—”
“Sit down, Max.” The judge raised an expectant eyebrow at the Housley men, sitting behind Katherine. “Is one of you going to volunteer? Or do I have to order you to do it?”
Behind her, Katherine heard the shuffle of feet as Gun stood up. “I volunteer,” he said gruffly. “I volunteer my son to prove that Santa Claus really does exist.”
“Done.” Judge Abernathy slammed down the gavel. “This court is dismissed until tomorrow morning, nine o’clock.” He looked at Gabe. “Get your evidence together, son, because I will expect to leave here tomorrow believing there is a Santa Claus.”
The courtroom broke into calamitous activity. Abby and Andy looked around, as if they didn’t know what they were supposed to do next. Smitty Goldman congratulated Katherine and himself on having this one “in the bag.” Katherine turned toward Gabe, the light of battle in her eyes. Gun tried to waylay Max, who was heading for the staging area and another news conference.
Gabe was the only person in the room who remained sitting, solemn, sober...and stunned.
* * *
“WAY TO GO, Dad.” Gabe slammed the front door behind them. “Max and I spent hours planning our strategy, and you and the judge plotted for fifteen minutes this morning over a cup of coffee and managed to ruin everything.”
“We saved your butt, Junior, and don’t you forget it.” Gun hung up his coat and cap and headed toward the kitchen. “All you have to do is go in there tomorrow, state your case, and voilà, Katherine forgives you, the kids get the dog, the cat, and Christmas, and you’re a hero. Your face will probably be on every magazine cover in the world.”
“Oh
, well, I never thought of it like that!” Gabe tossed his coat toward the coat tree in the hall, not caring that it missed and fell to the floor. “Katherine is never going to forgive me, Dad. Not now. She was all set never to speak to me again anyway, and now she gets to gloat while I make a complete idiot of myself in front of the entire world.”
“She won’t gloat. She may enjoy watching, but she won’t gloat.”
“If Max had just been able to finish his case, we could have gotten her to agree to joint custody of the animals, which for all practical purposes would have given me joint custody of Abby and Andy, too, not to mention that Katherine would have had to talk to me.”
Gun shook his head. “You remember telling me the other night about how you felt like a comet, hurtling through the sky?”
Gabe nodded curtly. “I remember.”
“Well, you burned up on entry. You’re not thinking clearly, Junior. There’s a simple solution here. And it doesn’t involve Max Costanza or joint custody arrangements.” He began clearing the counter. “Now, I’m going to mix up another batch of cookies. Sugar cookies for Abby and Andy to decorate—and I suggest you quit acting like a moron, go over to Katherine’s apartment, apologize profusely, then tell her you’re so crazy sick in love with her you’re not thinking straight and would she please just marry you and put you out of your misery.”
“Oh, now that’s an easy solution,” Gabe said, feeling finally defeated. “Any chance I had with her got buried under all the headlines, and now I’ve got to prove there’s a Santa Claus. Max assured me he can work miracles in a courtroom, but even he isn’t willing to touch this...not even to get his face on all the magazine covers in the world.”
Gun set out the mixing bowl. “You don’t need a miracle, Junior. All you need is to believe in Santa Claus.”
“Oh, right,” Gabe said with heavy sarcasm. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re not a wise man, yet,” Gun answered. “But you will be. You will be.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE COURTROOM FILLED with hushed excitement as Gabe approached the bench. He was nervous. So nervous he could hardly breathe. He hoped he was right about this. For Abby’s and Andy’s sake, he hoped he was right. For his and Katherine’s sake, he had to be.
He felt every eye in the place follow him as he placed the box he carried on a low table. But he pretended a confidence he was far from feeling as he took out the items and hung them, one by one, on a display stand he’d put in the courtroom earlier. The red velvet pants went on the hanger first, then the fur-trimmed jacket, around which he looped the black patent belt, with its big gold buckle. He looped a fake white beard over the hanger and placed a pair of shiny black boots on the floor. Then he topped the outfit off with a red velvet hat, complete with white trim on the brim and tassel.
“Judge Abernathy, Andy, Abby, Katherine, Mr. Goldman, ladies and gentlemen, this—” he indicated the display “—is a Santa suit. It’s an empty costume, a bit of velvet and fake fur, a belt, a hat, and a pair of boots. Nothing special, just a funny-looking outfit that most of us would never have any occasion to wear.”
Turning again to the box, he took out his coat and hung it next to the costume. “This is my coat. It’s my favorite coat. It’s not the original, there are probably a couple of hundred just like it in this city alone. But it’s my coat, and there are a number of people in this courtroom—” he let his gaze drift to Katherine “—who could tell you it’s mine. They recognize it, you see, because they’ve seen me wear it.”
He took a deep breath and focused on Katherine, closing out every other pair of eyes but hers, pushing aside the awareness that anyone else was watching. He didn’t care if he convinced another soul with this performance. He wanted to sway her heart, and hers alone. “There are a few people who might try to tell you all the things they know about me just by looking at my coat. They might say I like dark, somber colors because the coat is brown. They might say I live in a cold climate because the coat is heavy and it’s made of wool. Some people might say I’m generous, because the coat has deep pockets. Or that I’m stingy because those same pockets show no sign of wear. Every one of you is looking at my coat right now and thinking you know something about me, even if it’s only that I have terrific...or terrible...fashion sense.
“But the truth is, it’s just a coat. An empty coat. It doesn’t really tell you a thing about the person who wears it. On the other hand, we all know a lot about the person who wears the Santa suit. We know he’s kind, generous, jolly, and that he likes cookies and milk. We know he represents the best in all of us, the qualities we’d all like to believe are universal among the human race. We know that his is a spirit of joy and possibilities. We know that if there really isn’t anyone who can fill these boots, the world would be a sad and dreary place. As dreary as a world without a single pair of twins, a world without red hair and freckles, a world without imagination or hope.
“I can’t prove the existence of Santa Claus. I can’t prove the existence of hope. Or love. Or imagination. But I can show you this—” he picked up Abby’s drawing and held it out to Katherine “—and I can tell you that it represents the hopes, the dreams and the imaginations of two very wonderful kids. I can tell you that for the past five years I’ve been a skeptic about love and commitment. I thought that being responsible for a family was the very last thing I ever wanted to do. But then Abby and Andy walked into my office, and I committed to do the most foolish thing imaginable. I promised them I’d find the real Santa Claus, and prove to their mother that it wasn’t too late to believe in magic.
“Well, I don’t know if I could ever convince her of anything except that I’m the greatest bozo on the face of the earth. I only know that when I look at Abby and Andy, I believe in Santa Claus and the elves and that reindeer can fly one day a year and that an imaginary dog and a stuffed lion can become real. And when I look at you...” He put his hands down on the table in front of Katherine and leaned toward her. “When I look at you, Kate, I believe in all the things I could never hope to prove. I believe in love at first sight and love forever after and love that comes in packages of three. And I’m willing, eager, to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”
“Gabe...” she whispered, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“I love you, Katherine,” he said. “I love your children. I love your dog and your cat and your coffee. I know I’m asking a lot, but could you just once step out in faith and believe in something you can’t see. Believe in me. Trust me. Love me. Marry me.”
“Marry you?” A tear slid free and rolled down her cheek. “For real?”
“I don’t know any other way to make the drawing come true,” he said. “It clearly calls for a mom, a dad, two kids, a dog, and a coat...cat. I meant to say cat.”
“I’m not marrying you without the coat. You’ll have to wear it to the wedding.”
“I’ll wear the Santa suit, if you want.”
“No, the coat will be fine.”
He took her hand. “So you will? You really will?”
“I will,” she said. “I really will.”
Then he pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, and kissed her before she had a chance to change her mind.
Around them, the courtroom broke into raucous and riotous applause, and Judge Abernathy pounded his gavel to be heard above the roar. “The Santa suit is hereby dismissed. And if interested parties will step into my chambers, we’ll take care of the legalities before we all go home for Christmas!”
And that is what they did.
* * *
“DAD! LOOK WHAT I got from Santa!” Andy held up the Jet Jupiter Space Station and Launch Kit. “This is so cool!”
“Dad! Look I got one, too!” Abby held up a duplicate. “And I got a Barbie Astronaut, too!”
“What’s in that
package?” Katherine pointed to a small, square box, and Abby dived under the tree to get it.
“This is from Santa to Gabe,” Abby read from the tag. “It should say from Santa to Dad, though, ’cause he’s not Gabe anymore, he’s Dad.”
“What about me?” Gun was sitting on the floor between the twins, surrounded by nearly enough discarded wrapping paper to cover him. “I’m Gabe’s dad.”
“No, you’re Grandpop.” Andy sent Jet Jupiter flying through the air, and it was caught by Sparky in an impressive leap. “Yay, Sparky! Good dog!”
“Has anybody seen The Real Cat Matilda?” Abby began tossing ribbons and paper, looking for the kitten.
“She’s behind the tree, trying to get her paw into that paper chain,” Katherine said, pointing to the place where the construction-paper decoration hung dangerously low to the floor. “Here.” She thrust the small package Abby had handed to her into Gabe’s hands. “Santa left this for you.”
He rattled it, then tore off the wrapping and opened the box. “Buttons,” he said, laughing. “In case I lose one off my coat.”
“It is a very important coat,” Katherine said with a smile.
Gabe kissed her. “This is even better than the Christmas I got the pony.”
“It was a dog,” she said. “You asked for a pony, but you got a dog. See, I remember more about your Christmases than you do.”
“Only because Dad talks too much.”
“What’s this?” Abby held up the most recently opened gift. “The tag said it was to me and Andy, but it’s just the same old drawing.”
“I think that was supposed to be mine.” Katherine reached for the infamous drawing, the crayon Christmas that had started the whole thing. She looked at it fondly, her fingertip tracing the stick figures through the glass.
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