Montana Secret Santa

by Debra Salonen

  Montana winter equals snow and cold. How had he managed to forget that? Six years in Boston and two in London should have kept the memory of his home state alive, even if he’d spent the past ten in the Bay Area. The mild Mediterranean climate along the Pacific coast apparently had tricked his mind into forgetting the piercing bite of a snow-laced Montana wind.

  “I saved you a chair, dear,” Mom called from a grouping of four small tables and chairs along the far wall of the shop. Holiday displays filled the area between him and the already assembled group of five people his mother’s age.

  No Krista.

  He acknowledged his mother’s greeting with a nod. “Let me grab a cocoa and I’ll be right there. Can I get you one?”

  “Yes, please. With extra whipped cream.”

  “Coming right up.” He knew where he got his sweet tooth.

  He folded his coat over his arm and got in line behind a woman wearing a puffy, silver and white ski jacket, dark gray slacks, practical but stylish snow boots with wolf-like fur accents and a festive, red and white cap and scarf combo that hid most of her hair.

  He crossed his arms in the front of him and looked around. The scent from what appeared to be real pine garlands adorned with twinkle lights mingled with smells his memory associated with a Montana winter—wet snow and damp coats giving off a musty odor. Luckily, that dissipated with each step closer to the counter where Sage’s helpers served steaming mugs of cocoa from a copper vat set up along the back wall behind the cash register.

  His gaze fell on the series of black and white, framed posters showing the chocolate-making process. His brain immediately clicked into curiosity mode. Each step had an old-world quality that intrigued him.

  The line advanced forward. “A large, please. For here,” the woman in the colorful hat said.

  Her voice snapped Jonah out of his lollygagging. He leaned forward and sideways to see her face. “Hey, it’s you. I didn’t recognize you without your high heels.”

  Krista turned. “Oh, hello. You left your motley crew at home, I see.”

  “Dad’s walking them as we speak. His last time before he and Mom leave for Florida in the morning.” He tapped his forehead. “Too much information, right?”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. This is Marietta. Everybody knows everybody else’s business.”

  The sound of the old-fashioned cash register clanging made her pivot. She opened the smart leather satchel she’d had clamped under her arm and poked inside a moment. “Oh, nuts. I forgot to grab my wallet from my purse. Sage, I’m so sorry. Can I pay you after—”

  Jonah reached around her with the credit card he’d shoved in his pocket before leaving the house. “Ring it up with mine, Sage. No worries.”

  “Are you sure?” Krista asked. “I can run back to my office after the meeting.”

  Her eyes were the warmest shade of brown he’d ever seen.

  “It’s the least I can do. You haven’t sent me your cleaning bill, yet.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “No harm, no foul. We’re good.”

  The common phrase took on a completely different meaning in his mind. We would be good… together. Is there any chance of that happening before I leave?

  She tucked her satchel under her arm again and picked up the Copper Mountain Chocolates mug the shop served for those “staying in” versus to go. She used a wooden stir stick to lovingly swirl the mound of whipped cream and chocolate shavings into the base of cocoa below. “So, it sounds like you and I have been volunteered for public service, huh?”

  She glanced over her shoulder toward the group that had grown to six.

  “So it seems. I had my arm twisted by two of the finest arm-twisters in the business—my parents.” He nodded toward her drink. “How’s the cocoa?”

  She picked up the mug and held it to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “It’s hot sex in a cup… without the regret.”

  Jonah’s laugh came out a bit rusty and way too loud. Heads turned. When he glanced across the room, he caught his mother’s look of obvious surprise… and interest.

  Uh oh. The last thing he wanted was to give Mom the wrong idea. The poor woman had been waiting for him to find Ms. Right ever since he graduated from college. He’d disappointed her twice with two costly mistakes.

  He turned his attention to the pretty server in the copper-colored apron. Her nametag said, Rosie. “Two cocoas, please, Rosie. One with extra whipped cream, and I’ll take what she’s having.”

  Krista’s smile told him she caught his allusion to the famous scene from When Harry Met Sally. A hum of something intriguing passed between them right before the sharp rap of a gavel against a block of wood made her startle.

  “Duty calls,” she murmured. “Ho, ho, ho.”

  Jonah wondered about her less-than-enthusiastic tone. Did the volunteer aspect of Secret Santa put her off? Donating her time and talent probably didn’t make sense when she was focused on growing her business. He couldn’t say he’d done anything altruistic to date, either. His entire focus and then some had been on his company. But his parents had always found time to be involved in community organizations, and they claimed to have benefited in ways money couldn’t buy.

  Before walking away, Krista told Sage, “See you tomorrow. I won’t forget my wallet. I promise.” She lifted her mug Jonah’s way. “Thanks, again.”

  While he waited for his payment to process, he watched Krista claim a spot across the table from the chair his mother had saved for him. She slipped off her jacket. Her white sweater hugged the luscious curves he thought his memory had blown out of proportion in his dreams last night. Nope. Winding up with Krista Martin in his arms as a result of their crazy collision definitely had left a big impression.

  He thanked Rosie and Sage then picked up his order and started across the room, maneuvering carefully between customers clustered around the displays. The aroma made his mouth water, but his attention remained on Krista as she shook hands with his mother. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw Krista laugh and glance his way.

  “Oh, God,” he murmured under his breath, worried his mother might break out baby pictures or his high school yearbook or something equally embarrassing.

  “Here you go, Mom,” he said, setting the mug with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream on top of it in front of her.

  “Thank you. I was just apologizing to Krista for Bindi. She said you saved her from bruising something worse than her ego.”

  An image of the body part in question—supplied by his overzealous imagination—made him sit down hastily, nearly knocking over his own mug of luscious, dark brown liquid. As he settled into the seat and reassembled the scattered pieces of his equanimity, Krista addressed the group. “It’s so nice to meet you. Amanda is crushed that she can’t be part of your efforts this year. I sincerely hope I’ll be able to fill her shoes in a way that helps your important cause.”

  Jonah pressed the rim of his mug to his lips to keep from grinning. Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you? Trust me. They’re not going to turn down your offer of help. Sinking ships need all hands on board.

  But he could tell Krista’s positive goodwill seemed to enliven the whole group. Everyone smiled and nodded. Mom seemed utterly charmed.

  A thought struck him. Krista works the crowd the way Daniel does.

  Seven years Jonah’s junior, Daniel—a wheeler/dealer in the Denver telecommunications market—had inherited all the glib communication skills their parents both possessed. Daniel would have been perfect for this job, Jonah thought. Except for the follow through. Daniel was filled with great ideas and energy, but he tended to leave the grunt work to others.

  “Life is too short to spend it in a lab twenty-four-seven, Jonah.” He’d emailed after the sale of Jonah’s company hit the news. “’Bout time you joined the world at large.”

  Or not. He doubted Daniel would call Marietta a huge step up from the Silicon Valley, but at least here Jonah was in
the company of human beings, not computers. Including one very interesting human he hoped to get to know better.

  “You all remember my son, Jonah, don’t you?”

  “I’ve been gone a long time, Mom. You’d better introduce me.”

  Before she could start, Emily McCullough blew into the shop on a rush of cold air. She didn’t appear to have changed a single part of her appearance from the day before—bulky Carhartt jacket, rubber-tipped winter boots, and wool cap with earflaps dangling on either side of her thin, lined face.

  She marched straight to their group. “Sorry I’m late. Found a three-foot drift across my drive this morning. Dang wind.”

  “No problem, Em. We’re just introducing our new members,” Mom said. “We knew you wouldn’t miss passing the baton to your successor.” She nodded Jonah’s way. “I hear you and Jonah ran into each other yesterday.”

  Em cackled as she removed her hat. Spikes of electrified silver tufts stuck up in every direction until she tamed the mop with a hand through it. “More like he ran down this young lady with one of your dogs. The beagle, I think.” She turned toward Krista. “You okay, then? No ill will toward Jonah?”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Krista’s blush was so damn cute Jonah nearly choked on his sip of cocoa. His eyes watered but he managed not to cough as the hot liquid left a fiery trail down his throat.

  “Good. I talked to Amanda this morning. She told me you’ve agreed to help. We all appreciate that.”

  “It’s lovely to formally meet you, Ms. McCullough,” Krista said, shaking the older woman’s hand once Em was seated. “Amanda told me we have quite a bit in common since I spent half of my childhood in New York City.”

  “Where was the other half?” Jonah asked.

  “Southern California. My parents both work in the entertainment industry. I graduated from Beverly Hills High then majored in communications at Columbia and worked for a Manhattan advertising agency, which is where I met Amanda. I moved here about eighteen months ago to help create Blue Sky Promotions.”

  She gave them a quick rundown of her qualifications using words like “integrated marketing communication,” “brand management,” and “social media metrics.” All things Jonah abhorred and preferred to outsource, but he tuned back in when she said, “When Amanda told me about the way your group helps fulfill the wishes and requests people make for other people, I have to admit, it touched my heart.”

  Bullshit.

  He happened to look at Em, whose smirk said the same thing.

  Whatever Krista’s reason for agreeing to help this group it wasn’t from some altruistic love of Christmas.

  “Very admirable, young lady. Now, let’s get started,” Em said. “Not everyone here is retired, you know. Louise, did you bring copies of the treasurer’s report?”

  Louise Jenkins—the children’s librarian, his mother had added when she’d introduced them—passed around copies of a neatly typed balance sheet. One glance told Jonah everything he needed to know—the group was in trouble.

  He tuned out the grumbling, second-guessing, and finger-pointing until a woman at the far end of the table—Sarah Zabrinski, Jonah believed his mother had called her, said, “I didn’t mean my questions to sound critical. This is the first winter Robert and I have been in town for quite a few years, so we’re playing catch-up.”

  The distinguished looking silver-haired man at her side leaned on his elbows and said, “Before I retired we were too hands-on with the hardware store to be active members. We relied on all of you good people to provide this service while we simply wrote checks.”

  Oh, that Zabrinski. Some of the pieces his mother had mentioned fell into place.

  Louise nodded, her smile warm and conciliatory. “Your family has always been among our most generous donors. We couldn’t have reached as many people as we have without your help. But, for the past couple of years, more and more charities have sprung up, including the Big Sky Mavericks.”

  Em produced a glossy, eye-grabbing flyer heralding the New Year’s Eve gala Mom and Dad had been encouraging Jonah to attend. “All the most influential people will be there. Young, up-and-coming professionals. You’ll fit right in.”

  Like going stag to a black-tie fundraiser populated by my old classmates was going to happen. Some things cried loser louder than all the money in the world.

  He studied the flyer once it reached his hands. Black background. A simple-but-striking golden mask nestled against a champagne flute. Classy. He glanced at Krista and found her watching him.

  “Wow.” He mouthed the word, pointing to the discreet Blue Sky Promotions logo in the lower right corner.

  She started to smile, but was interrupted by Em. “But marketing like this doesn’t come cheap, does it, Krista?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No offense. But this sort of glitz and glamour has really hurt us. Donations are way down, and the price of gifts has gone up, up, up.”

  Mom shot to her feet, her chair making a fingernails-on-chalkboard screech that made Jonah cringe. “That’s why I’m nominating Jonah to take over as president. He reprogramed his first computer at age eight. If anyone can save this organization, it’s Jonah.”

  When all eyes turned his way, Jonah tried his best not to squirm like a second-grade student who forgot his spelling words. Despite his business acumen and financial success, his work was so far removed from this sort of grassroots human component he shuddered to think about it.

  “Thanks for the vote of support, Mom, but I’d like to go on record as saying I’ve never run a charity in my life.”

  Em made a dismissive gesture. “You invented a gismo that made every computer in the world run faster, young man. I think you can handle a few gifts to some deserving souls.”

  The quip brought a murmur of support.

  “You’ll do fine,” Louise said, like a librarian encouraging a kid studying for his SAT test at age fifteen. “We’ll all be here to help. Except your mom and dad, of course. They’re headed for sugar sand beaches and warm water.”

  That brought a chuckle from the others.

  Jonah had worked with enough committees in college to know despite the collective enthusiasm at the start of a project, the majority of the work fell to one or two committed souls. He kept his tone light but his expression serious. “I will agree to do this on one condition. Krista signs on as copresident.”

  Krista blinked in surprise. “Me? Oh, I don’t think that’s possible. As Em said, not everyone here is retired. I still have a business to run.”

  He pulled out his checkbook. “Understood. I also know that Montana Secret Santa can’t work in a bubble. Since I’ve yet to make a donation, what if we earmark this check to cover the cost of your time and contributions to the cause. Consider it an investment in infrastructure. Your company shouldn’t have to suffer because Secret Santa—all right, because I need your help. Would that work for you?”

  He focused on writing instead of watching her face. He added more zeroes than he guessed were necessary, but money was the least of his problems. He signed it with his usual illegible flourish and passed it across the table—dollar amount down.

  “Let’s be clear here. You’ve all heard, I’m sure, that I sold my business for a boatload of money. And, yes, I could easily underwrite the entire Secret Santa budget this year, but where would that leave you? One year closer to the end.”

  He looked around the table and knew in his heart that was not an option for these people, to whom tradition and giving were part of their blood and history.

  “In order to carry on the Secret Santa tradition, you need a new operating system. Mom’s right. That’s the kind of thing I can do in my sleep. I understand infrastructure and functionality a lot better than I understand people.” He gestured toward Krista. “I’m guessing that’s Krista’s strong suit. And my gut says between the two of us, we can help this organization get back on track so you can continue to do the good work you’ve done for years
. What do you say, Krista?”

  *

  Krista’s heart rate spiked the instant she realized Jonah wanted an answer from her. Now. This instant. For a second or two, she was a battle-weary eight-year-old caught in the middle of her parent’s custody war. Even though everyone said the power struggles weren’t about her, Krista always felt guilty about picking one parent over the other, even if her rationale came down to not wanting to change schools for the third time in one year.

  Her fingers touched the check, but she didn’t turn it over.

  “Amanda just told me she’s pregnant.” She paused to let the women in the group do their happy news thing before going on. “Unfortunately, her doctor wants her to stop working, so that means I’ll be handling Blue Sky single-handedly until we can bring on an intern.”

  She spotted the immediate disappointment in Jonah Andrews’ gorgeous eyes.

  But it’s my job to make everybody happy.

  To avoid the people-pleasing little girl voice in her head, she turned over Jonah’s check. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

  It’s only money.

  He’s trying to buy me.

  Despite the negative interpretation arrived at by her New Yorker feminist conscience, the budget-minded, self-employed, overworked part of her saw the money as validation of what she brought to the table. He needed her help and was willing to pay for it. What was wrong with that?

  The part of her that had chosen independence over following her well-established family into some lucrative aspect of show business nearly burst into tears at all the zeroes. Did he really think she… er, her time… was worth this much? She doubted her parents would agree.

  Her hand trembled as she displayed the check for everyone to see. “This is incredibly generous, Jonah. I could probably afford to hire two interns, but I’ll start with one for now. And that will leave a huge retainer in your advertising budget. Blue Sky Promotions can make Montana Secret Santa a household name, if that’s your goal.”