The Miracle on 34th Street

by A. L. Singer

  "I will not forget," Kringle assured him.

  "We're in Stamford. Thirty-one thirty-three Brompton Road. Big white house."

  With a nod, he took off.

  "Well, Kriss, you're free," Bryan said. "I don't know how much help I was, but that's not important."

  "You came to my defense," Kringle replied. "Without you, I'd have been put away without a peep.

  "The truth is, Kriss, it was Dorey's idea. She called and asked me to help you."

  "Dorey did?"

  Bryan nodded. "You made a believer out of her."

  Kringle's eyes welled up. "That's such good news!"

  "You made a believer out of everybody," Bryan continued.

  "Not everybody," Kringle said. "There are still a few who don't believe. One in particular."

  "Kriss!"

  At the sound of Dorey's voice, Bryan began collecting his papers on the defense table.

  Dorey and Susan Walker plunged through the crowd. Dorey threw her arms around Kringle. "I'm so happy for you, Kriss!" she cried.

  Susan turned toward Bryan. "Way to go, Bryan."

  "Thank you, Susan," Bryan replied.

  Dorey pulled away from Kringle and smiled at Bryan. "Congratulations," she said.

  "Thank you, Dorey." Bryan offered his hand, and Dorey shook it.

  Susan and Kriss Kringle exchanged a hopeful look.

  "Well," Bryan said, "have a merry Christmas."

  "You, too," Dorey answered

  For a moment, no one said a word. Then Dorey took Susan's hand. "We'll let you go," she said to Kringle. "Merry Christmas and good luck."

  With an exchange of Merry Christmases all around, Dorey and Susan headed for the door.

  Susan's eyes were full of disappointment. As she glanced at Kriss Kringle one last time, he gave her a confident wink.

  Bryan shut his briefcase. "You want to share a cab home, Kriss?"

  "Home? Oh, no, not tonight. I'm going to be very busy."

  Bryan laughed. "Christmas Eve. That's right."

  "My deepest thanks, Bryan. I shall never forget you. In all my travels past and future, I won't find as good a friend as you. Merry Christmas."

  "Merry Christmas."

  Kriss Kringle turned away. With a bounce in his step, he went out the door.

  The crowd had emptied. Bryan stood alone in the courtroom.

  He picked up his briefcase and left.

  His footsteps echoed hollowly on the tiled floor.

  DECEMBER 24, 3:01 P.M.

  Victor Lamberg threw the afternoon newspaper onto his desk. He turned it so the headline faced Jack Duff and Alberta Leonard:

  SANTA LIVES!

  "This is going to blow up in my face, isn't it?" Lamberg asked.

  Neither Duff nor Alberta had an answer for him.

  "I lost bigger than I ever thought I'd win," Lamberg mumbled.

  "There was a lot of pressure," Duff said. "Who knew what the judge would do when he was faced with having to put Santa Claus in the nuthouse?"

  "He isn't Santa Claus!" Lamberg thundered. "What's the matter with everybody? There is no Santa Claus!"

  He stalked to the window and stared out.

  Alberta looked at Duff. She pulled a button out of her pocket and showed it to Duff.

  He squinted and read the words on the button: I Believe In Santa Claus. Right under the Cole's logo.

  Duff stifled a laugh. He looked at Lamberg's back, then quickly opened his suit jacket.

  The same button was pinned to his own vest.

  A light on Lamberg's phone began to flash. His secretary leaned into the office and said, "Mr. Lamberg? Your granddaughter's calling."

  Lamberg turned from the window. His face was creased with worry. He looked suddenly broken, old, and frail.

  "Is she angry?" he asked.

  When she arrived home from work, Dorey noticed a small blue envelope in the mail. On it, the words To DOrey—Urgent were written in an unfamiliar handwriting.

  She ripped open the envelope and read the message inside:

  Meet Me At St. Patrick's

  After Midnight Mass.

  Bryan

  After wandering around the city, Bryan arrived at his office late that evening. He noticed a lightblue envelope on his desk, marked To Bryan—Urgent.

  On the inside was a note:

  Meet Me At St. Patrick's After Midnight Mass.

  Dorey

  That night, before going to bed, Susan gazed out her bedroom window. Snow fell steadily, muffling the street noise below. She looked into the grayish-white sky. She couldn't see much because of the snow.

  Not that she expected to see anything. After all, Christmas Eve was a night just like any night.

  She plopped her head on her pillow and tried to sleep.

  Dorey arrived at the cathedral well past midnight. She was grateful an elderly neighbor had agreed to baby-sit.

  What could Bryan have wanted? The service was over. The congregation was straggling onto Fifth Avenue, humming Christmas carols and chatting.

  Dorey went inside. Her eyes were drawn upward. The walls seemed to rise into the heavens. As she walked up the aisle, her footsteps rang out in the empty cathedral.

  She approached the altar. A priest appeared, smiling at her.

  This had to be a mistake.

  Footsteps clattered behind Dorey. She turned.

  Bryan was standing in the front door. He looked just as bewildered as Dorey felt.

  Suddenly the organ started playing a wedding march.

  Dorey jumped back, startled.

  Bryan wandered up the aisle toward her, looking all around—at the organist, the stained-glass windows, the empty pews. . . . His eyes met Dorey's.

  The priest walked forward. He stood in front of the altar as Bryan approached.

  "Is someone getting married?" Bryan asked.

  "Not that I know of," Dorey replied. "Did you arrange this?"

  "No. You did."

  "I did?"

  "You didn't?"

  Dorey shook her head. "I didn't. Did you?"

  "I didn't." Bryan looked at the priest. "Father?"

  The priest held up his Bible. "You're ready?"

  "For what?" Dorey asked.

  "To get married?" The priest raised an eyebrow in confusion.

  Dorey looked at Bryan.

  Bryan looked at Dorey.

  The priest handed Bryan a ring.

  A wedding ring.

  At that moment, both Dorey and Bryan knew who had set this up.

  The one person in the world who knew them the best.

  Bryan took Dorey's hand. She did not let go.

  They turned to the priest and waited for him to begin.

  December 25, 7:17 A.M.

  Christmas Day

  She didn't know what she expected to see under the tree.

  All she knew was that she didn't get what she wanted.

  Susan sat silently in front of her Christmas tree. Presents were piled underneath. That was nice. But they were exactly the same ones that had been there the night before. In the same arrangement.

  Which made perfect sense. Kriss Kringle was a nice man, not a miracle worker. He'd have his job back next year, and that was what the whole thing was about, wasn't it?

  She glanced at the glass Santa ornament on the tree. She narrowed her eyes. It seemed to be glowing.

  The light jittered and jumped. It left the ornament and hovered on the wall.

  Susan's eyes followed the light as it shot upward to the ceiling, then back down again, then across the wall, around her, behind her . . . and right back to its source.

  A polished gold ring. On her mom's finger.

  Susan looked up slowly. Her mom was dressed in a robe, sipping coffee, leaning against the living room archway.

  Wearing a ring.

  "Holy smokes." Susan muttered

  "I have something to tell you," Dorey said gently.

  Bryan walked in behind her.

  Susa
n's grin was brighter than the Christmas tree. He was wearing a ring, too!

  "What did you get for Christmas, Susan?" Bryan asked cheerfully.

  Susan didn't answer. She ran toward her mother and threw her arms around her waist.

  Her Christmas wish had come true.

  There was a Santa Claus!

  Hours later, Susan was in the back of a cab with her mom and her new stepfather. Outside, fresh snow blanketed snug suburban houses and weighed down tree branches.

  "Susan, I know what you asked Mr. Kringle for," Dorey said, "but that's not why we're going to the house."

  "We're going to the house they showed in the catalog, right?" Susan asked. "That's the house I told him I wanted!"

  Dorey rolled her eyes. "We're going there because it snowed and the house is very pretty and Mr. Shellhammer wants to take some photos for next year's Christmas catalog." She folded her arms and grumbled, "Which I think, by the way, is awfully bold of him. It is a holiday."

  "And a honeymoon," Bryan reminded her.

  Susan shook her head. "You're wro-ong, Mom." The taxi rolled into the driveway of the house. Dorey looked around for the photographer's van, but it wasn't there. The house looked deserted.

  "Where is everybody?" she asked, getting out of the cab.

  Susan noticed the mailbox at the end of the drive. The name Walker-Bedford was painted on its side.

  As Dorey approached the front door of the house, it opened. Shellhammer stood there, smiling. He held out a set of keys toward her. "You got a bonus."

  "I knew it!" Susan screamed.

  "Wh-what do you mean?" Dorey stammered.

  "It's your house," Shellhammer replied "Cole called me at one o'clock in the morning. He said he wanted to buy you and your husband—" He looked at Bryan. "Did you get married?"

  Bryan nodded. "Last night."

  Dorey stared numbly at the house. "I can't believe it," she said under her breath.

  "Congratulations," Shellhammer said to Bryan. "Was this planned?"

  "No," Bryan answered.

  "I can't believe it," Dorey muttered again.

  "You saved Cole's and we're all grateful," Shellhammer said. "Mr. Cole would be here himself but . . . well, he's the chairman and he has me to do these sorts of things for him." He turned to his car. "Bye-bye."

  "Thank you, Donald," Dorey said "I don't know what to say except Merry Christmas."

  As Shellhammer drove off, Bryan pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and paid the taxi driver.

  "How did you get a free house?" the driver asked.

  "I'm Santa Claus's attorney," Bryan replied.

  The cab driver quickly backed away.

  Bryan put his arms around Susan and Dorey. The three of them headed into their new home.

  They stopped just inside the front door.

  A huge Christmas tree stood in the corner, glowing with lights, tinsel, and ornaments. A fire crackled in a brick fireplace. A puffy armchair, a sofa, a thick Oriental rug—the room was decorated with Cole's finest furnishings.

  "This is the house I asked Kriss for, and he got it for me," Susan said. "And he got me a dad. The third thing, I'll just have to wait for." She looked at Dorey. "But he'll get it for me, won't he?"

  "If Kriss said he'd get you something," Bryan answered, "I'll bet it's already on the way."

  "I guess there's no doubt about it—he's real!" Susan was beaming. "I'm going up and look at my new room. Excuse me."

  As she sped up the stairs, Dorey called out, "Susan?"

  Susan looked over the stairway railing. "What?"

  "What else did you ask Mr. Kringle for?"

  "A baby brother. See ya."

  Dorey turned slowly to Bryan.

  Together they both looked down at her tummy.

  EPILOGUE

  December 26, 7:34 P.M.

  364 Days To Next Christmas

  San Francisco was cool and cloudy. In the Brewster Nursing Home, some of the elderly tenants were taking ornaments off the tree.

  At the front desk, the clerk said to a new applicant, "It's a comfortable place. We have very few complaints."

  Kriss Kringle looked around and nodded. "It'll do just fine."

  "Mrs. Brewster will sign you in," the clerk replied. "Down the hall, first door on your right."

  As Kriss walked away, the clerk called out, "Excuse me, sir. I didn't catch your name."

  "Kringle. Kriss Kringle." The clerk's smile drooped.

  Kriss Kringle winked. Then he turned and walked to his room.

  It had been a long night and he was very, very tired.