Do You Believe in Santa? (17 page)

She hoped the message wouldn't seem heavy-handed. After all,
she
hadn't designed it.

The town council meeting the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving was very lightly attended, and Jake's time at the podium was short.

The council voted six to zero in favor of the proposed hotel, based on the holiday theme Jake described. Sitting alongside Jake in the same seat for the third time, Mandy saw his shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. And Mandy felt the butterflies in her stomach subside.

The next day, Mandy cooked Thanksgiving dinner at her house for Jake, Mrs. Swanson, and the three Christmas staffers. It was the first holiday meal she'd ever prepared. She was eternally grateful when Mrs. Swanson rescued her in her struggles to make gravy—and that only Jake saw the bag of gizzards she accidentally left inside the bird while it was cooking.

Before she cleared the table, Mandy took a moment to sit back and look around her. How had this happened?

A year ago she'd rarely had a guest in this house. Now she'd just cooked Thanksgiving dinner for six people, and all of it had been edible. Okay, the temps had brought canned cranberry sauce and store-bought pie. But still.

“The sweet potatoes were amazing,” Jake said. He sat at the end of the table across from Mandy. Like her, he seemed reluctant to move.

“It was my mom's recipe. The ingredients are really simple, but I've always loved it.”

“Maybe next time I'll show you the family recipe for peppered baby carrots,” Jake said.

Mandy slid an accusing stare his way. “You didn't tell me you could cook.”

“You didn't ask.” He winked across the table at her. “Remember, I'm the one who carved the turkey.”

And that sounded a little like blackmail, because that was when he'd discovered the bag of giblets. Mandy glared at him, deeply content.

“Starting tomorrow, this house explodes,” she said.

Jake lifted his eyebrows. “I thought that was what happened in your kitchen today.”

She glanced toward the doorway that separated the dining room from the kitchen, loathe to think about the cleanup job that waited for her in there.

“She means the Christmas decorations,” Mrs. Swanson said. “As I recall, that's a two-day project, isn't it?”

“Two and a half days if you count getting all the boxes put away again,” Mandy admitted. She glanced at Jake, wondering how he'd react.

He said, “Need help with the lights outside?”

It was all so domestic that an errant thought winked into her mind. Starting the holiday season with Jake felt so natural, so right. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to do it every year. But it was way too soon to think about a future with Jake. Wasn't it? Especially when his permanent home was on the other side of the country.

Enjoy what you have,
she told herself. As she'd learned with her mother, you could never be sure how long you were going to have it.

She finished her glass of sparkling cider and stood. “I'll start coffee,” she announced, “and if everybody can give me a hand clearing the table . . . by the time I'm done straightening the kitchen, I think we'll all be ready for pie.”

Chapter 17

How did they do it?
Jake wondered.

The morning after Thanksgiving, the town of Tall Pine had turned into a holiday wonderland. Arches of Christmas lights stretched across Evergreen Lane from one side to the other, and the lamp posts were wrapped in pine garland and red velvet bows. The sidewalks were clustered with shoppers, and Phyllis's hotel was full to the seams.

The only thing missing was snow. Jake hadn't seen any since that night on Mandy's front porch. He'd never talked to anyone else in town who'd seen that snow, either.

It still wasn't dark yet by the time he went to pick up Mandy at the store at the end of the day. The arches of Christmas lights couldn't be seen to their full advantage, but they were turned on anyway. Inside the store, he found Mandy and Mrs. Swanson coaching two of the teen holiday workers as they straightened the chaos of the store shelves.

Mandy was flushed, as if she'd just come in from a snowstorm. Obviously it had been a busy day. But unlike the fatigue she'd shown the day of the sidewalk sale, tonight she seemed exhilarated. He noticed her earrings: round red Christmas ornaments.

She greeted him with a bright smile. “It's going to be a little longer tonight,” she said. “There's a lot of straightening up to do for tomorrow, and the register might take a little longer.”

“Busy day?” he said unnecessarily.

“And how.” The store speakers were still playing as Andy Williams sang about the most wonderful time of the year. “The day after Thanksgiving is always insane. It'll calm down a little tomorrow. What did you do today?”

“Finished up on a proposal to make a Christmas hotel glow.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “When you're done, let's get a bite, and I can help you with those decorations at your house.”

A shadow crossed her face. “You can't see the house yet. To look upon it is to go mad.”

He frowned. “When did you start?”

“After you left last night, and a little this morning. When you work at a store during Christmas, you've got to grab the time whenever you can.”

“So where do we go?”

If it was possible, her smile got brighter. “I've got just the place.”

 

 

Forty-five minutes later, Jake stood in a crowd of people singing Christmas songs in front of a big pine tree outside the town hall. He'd passed the tree a dozen times in his dealings with the council. He'd never realized it was
the
tall pine of Tall Pine.

Was it the tallest one in town? It was hard to tell. Secretly, he suspected it had been the tallest tree conveniently located when the town was being planned. But he wouldn't have dreamed of saying that out loud, especially not in front of the enthusiastic group curved around the tree now for Tall Pine's sixty-eighth annual Christmas tree lighting.

Funny how many Christmas songs revolved around snow, especially in an area where snow was so sporadic. When he'd talked to his parents yesterday, they said they'd had an inch and a half last week. A mountain town that didn't get enough snow to support a ski resort must struggle to compete for its share of the tourist trade. A reminder to Jake that this hotel could really do some good.

He'd spent too much time in front of his laptop today, he thought, as Mandy's voice reached his ears:

 

Her voice pulled Jake back to the scene unfolding around him, and he pushed his internal accountant to the back of his brain. This was the world Mandy loved, and she never got tired of it. And the tree wasn't even lit yet.

Ten minutes later, the town officials took turns giving speeches, mercifully short, before deeming it was time to turn on the lights of the tree. Winston Frazier himself led the countdown, sporting a wider smile than Jake had ever seen on the man.

When the tree lights came on, the results were so bright Jake had to squint for a moment after so long standing in the dimness. A collective “ahh” rose up from the crowd, and Jake found himself drawing in his breath. The blended glow of red, green, blue, orange and white lights washed over the crowd, and the scene became timeless. The coats, knit caps and scarves the people around him wore could easily have been seen at the town's first tree-lighting sixty-eight years ago. The tree even looked bigger.

Without any apparent prompting, the crowd started to sing “Silent Night
.
”

Mandy's voice stood out to him above the others, not just because she was standing next to him, and not because her voice was better than anyone else's, although it did have a sweet timbre. Just because it was Mandy's.

Jake looked down at her, and the glow on her face was more than the soft, colored light cast by the tree. It was a look of pure joy and contentment.
She does this every year,
he thought.
And every year, she loves it just as much.

Was it because she'd lived her entire life in the same town and didn't have anything to compare it to? If that were the case, you'd think the brightness in her eyes would have gotten dimmer by now. She'd stayed in Tall Pine, taken a ton of ribbing about her vision of Santa Claus, and still she glowed. Maybe that was because this was where she truly belonged. Maybe Mandy's roots in this town ran as deep as the roots of the Tall Pine tree.

Up to now, Jake reflected, he'd been content to move from place to place. It had been convenient, he supposed, to avoid any reminders of past mistakes, to start over again in a new place and make a fresh impression.

Maybe it was time for him to put down some roots, too.

 

 

After “Silent Night,” the crowd dispersed. Most of them split off to choose between two rapidly forming lines: one for hot chocolate from a kiosk outside, the other to see Santa Claus in the gazebo at the heart of the town square. Mandy watched the line of children for Santa, holding their parents' hands or, unable to contain their energy, jumping up and down in excitement. The figure seated in the large chair at the top of the gazebo wore a bright red suit.

She thought of Kris Kringle's line in
Miracle on 34th Street:
“I am not in the habit of substituting for spurious Santa Clauses.”

Mandy looked away. She knew there was no harm in it. After all, she'd been to see Santa—or one of his numerous “helpers”—in the department store several times before she was eight. She wondered if Jake had done it too, but decided not to ask. They'd hit some ticklish territory the night they talked about the Christmas hotel, and neither one of them had brought up Santa Claus since. They'd tacitly agreed to disagree, and for the moment it seemed best to leave it that way.

Maybe Jake had the same thought, because when she turned to him, his attention was on the line for hot chocolate, every bit as long as the Santa line.

“Looks pretty daunting,” he said. “Want to get some dinner?”

“Sure.”

Jake seemed quieter than usual as they walked to the car, fingers intertwined.

“What did you think?” she asked him. “Too corny?”

“I didn't think there was such a thing as ‘too corny' with something like this.” He squeezed her hand. “I thought it was great.”

“I'm glad. I haven't missed it since I was thirteen, and I've been sorry about that year ever since.”

“What happened when you were thirteen?”

She grinned. “What part of ‘thirteen' don't you understand? I was in a bad mood about something. I don't even remember what. So we stayed home and had dinner, and I felt sorry for myself.”

She tried to remember that year. Trying to redefine herself, be one of the cool kids, or at least to blend in. She hadn't even played much Christmas music that year. Almost as if she'd been trying to make herself as miserable as possible.

“Speaking of dinner,” Jake said, “what sounds good to you?” They reached the truck, and he leaned against it, taking both of her hands in his. “Is there any place in town you've never been to?”

What a strange question. “Let me think.” She didn't have to think long. “No.”

“Come to think of it, I'm not sure there's any place
I
haven't been by now.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. In fact, it's kind of nice.”

It had to be the most nerve-wracking purchase of Jake's life.

Not just because he was standing at the counter of Tall Pine Jewelers, where a wide window offered anyone passing by a perfect view of the customer inside the store. Not just because he was buying something that represented a major lifetime decision.

As he stared down at the array of diamond rings in the glass case, it was the multitude of
little
decisions, the number of choices, that overwhelmed him. Which ring was the
right
ring? They sparkled in front of him on their bed of black velvet like so many stars in the night sky.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, he would have been practical and taken the girl with him to pick out the ring. But the girl was Mandy. Taking her shopping for her own engagement ring would be contrary to everything about her.

If he'd gone to an out-of-town jeweler to choose the ring, at least he could have been sure of keeping it a secret. But
that
ran contrary to everything Jake believed about loyalty and business ethics. He wanted to support the town he'd struggled, and eventually reached an understanding, with. He had to buy the ring in Tall Pine.

“See anything you like?” the woman behind the counter prompted him. Fortyish, a little heavyset, with a patient smile, she'd stood back quietly while Jake surveyed the rings for the last ten minutes. Or was it twenty? It felt like he'd been taking up the woman's time for hours.

Jake rested his elbow on the glass and leaned on his right hand, hoping the hand would obscure his face from any curious passersby.

White gold or yellow gold, round or square, marquis-shaped or pear-shaped . . . Jake stared into the case, bewildered and intimidated, trying to focus on one ring at a time. And then he knew.

“That one,” he said, pointing.

It wouldn't beat most of the others for carat weight. But the diamond in the center had a circle of smaller diamonds clustered around it, giving the ring a warmth that shimmered. It reminded him, suitably enough, of a Christmas tree. Or fresh snow.

The clerk drew the ring out of the case with what looked like an approving nod. As Jake held the ring between his fingers, watching the sparkling stones wink their own approval at him, the most nerve-wracking question of all made his heart thump so hard he was sure the clerk could hear it.

He was gambling that Mandy would say yes.

He swallowed hard and did what his gut told him to. “I'll take it.”

This time the approval in the woman's smile was unmistakable. Nerve-wracked or not, Jake mustered a smile of his own.

“Now, I'm going to state the obvious,” he said.

“What is that?”

“This
has
to be a secret. Remember, it's Christmas.”

 

 

“You're sure you want me to open it now?” Mandy asked.

Jake had set the narrow, flat box on her knees. An early Christmas present, he said.

Mandy didn't believe in peeking at presents, and they really shouldn't be opened till Christmas. But once she had a present in her hands, with permission to open it, it was awfully hard to stick to the rules.

“It wouldn't do you much good by Christmas,” he said.

She fingered the red and green foil wrapping, tied together with curling ribbon. He'd gone to some trouble to make the package enticing, and she had a feeling it held something major. Its shape and size suggested nothing so strongly as a necktie.

Mandy fingered the ribbons, letting the mystery drive her crazy a few seconds longer before she carefully slid the ribbon down the corner of the box and started peeling at the tape that held the wrapping paper.

“You're not one of those people who saves gift wrap, are you?” he asked.

“No.
That's
crazy. It's just so pretty—” She peeked up at him. “I like to make it last.”

“Good thing I gave it to you a couple days early, then.”

A piece of paper tore away with the tape, and Mandy gave in, tearing the paper.

Inside the box was a long white envelope. Mandy bit her lip and smiled at Jake again. “Now who's drawing things out?”

Mystified, she opened the envelope and stared at a plane ticket. To New York City. Dated December twenty-second. She looked up at him, confused.