Do You Believe in Santa? (21 page)

Jake, who was running on four hours of sleep, stood to let her out of the breakfast nook. He should walk her upstairs to her room, but if they were alone he was afraid he'd say too much, the way he almost had earlier tonight in the kitchen.

He caught her hand as she started to turn away. “Tomorrow will be quieter. I promise.”

“I loved it,” Mandy said with a smile that managed to include everyone at the table.

Silent approval followed her out of the room, leaving the air open for nosy questions. Jake was pretty sure his mom would know better, and probably Susan—

“Is it serious?” That would be Liz, who'd never had children and therefore had no reason to read the Tact and Discretion section of the parenting manual.

“No, she's just some chick I met at the airport.” Jake held a deadpan look, biting the insides of his mouth. He was rewarded with an uncertain blink from Liz before the other two women snickered.

“She's wonderful, Jake.” And
that
was his mother, giving what sounded dangerously close to an endorsement, which he thought was also forbidden in the rule book.

“She put up with the hoard really well,” Susan said.

“She enjoyed it.” He didn't elaborate on Mandy's own lack of family. He knew by now how much Mandy hated the idea of being looked at as some kind of poor orphan. “She loves your girl.”

“It's a good thing, because Mandy couldn't have gotten away from her if she tried. Usually you're the one she won't leave alone.” Susan rested her head on the high wooden back of the breakfast nook's bench seat. Jake saw faint smudges of fatigue under her eyes that even skillful makeup couldn't cover. She'd always been pretty, and she still was, but she didn't have Mandy's magic. Then again, who did?

“I'm surprised you're not asleep yet,” Jake said.

“I'm headed there pretty quick,” she said.

“When's the last time Tony got through to you on the phone?”

“It's been about a week. Everything's fine there, but his hours are so strange, and communication is so spotty. He says they promised him this is his last time going overseas. It's been hard on Emily this year, especially having him gone for Christmas. And then there's the Santa thing.”

Jake snapped to attention.

His mother said, “Are the kids at school being skeptics?”

“Yep. Second grade, and a lot of them are saying there's no Santa Claus. She hasn't come right out and asked me, so I haven't said anything.”

Jake took a swig from Mandy's abandoned, half-empty coffee cup and winced at all the cream and sugar.

“That's another reason to wish Tony were here,” Susan was saying. “I'd rather have him here to deal with it.” She ran a hand through the fringe of bangs on her forehead. “He's the one who's made it so convincing. Leaving footprints in front of the fireplace, shaking sleigh bells outside . . .”

And Tony was the one who'd killed Santa for Jake. “I can shake some bells tomorrow night,” he offered. But was it the right thing to do?

She smiled wearily. “Can you drag them on the top of the roof to make it sound like reindeer hooves?”

His brother did
that?
He smiled wryly. “Not in a two-story house, I can't.”

“I just don't know what I'm going to tell her if she asks me point-blank, and I'm afraid it's coming.”

The truth,
Jake would have said a few months ago. Now he wasn't so sure.

Chapter 21

Mandy woke once again to bright sunlight and sat upright in bed. How much of the day had she slept through this time?

The display on her cell phone said it was nearly nine o'clock. Six a.m. at home. She dressed as quickly as she could. This time she wore her favorite holiday sweater: a no-holds-barred Christmas tree made of beads and sequins on a black background. After all, it was the day before Christmas.

The house seemed unusually quiet after yesterday's frenzy. She peeked in the open door of Jake's bedroom. No one there, although the open lid of his laptop hinted at recent activity.

Downstairs, she found him in the kitchen, toasting an English muffin. “Where is everybody?”

Jake ticked on his fingers. “My mom and dad, last-minute shopping. Emily, probably shaking presents under the tree. And Susan, unfortunately, getting ready for work. They called her in this morning.”

“On Christmas Eve?”

“I know. But it
is
a hospital.”

Jake had vanished again by the time Susan came down the stairs wearing a warm, furry coat over her uniform. Emily, sitting under the tree, viewed her unhappily. “I wish you didn't have to go.”

“I know, honey.” Susan bent to kiss Emily's forehead. “But I'll be home before Santa comes.”

Mandy saw a frown wrinkle Emily's brow as her mother kissed it. And when Susan left, the house was quieter still.

Too calm, Mandy decided. And with Jake upstairs, working on his laptop, it was likely to stay that way. For a seven-year-old, it was always a long wait until Christmas morning.

“A little boring after yesterday, isn't it?” Mandy asked.

Emily nodded, looking downright mournful as she contemplated the tree.

“I have an idea,” Mandy said. “Do you usually put out cookies and milk for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve?”

The little girl nodded again, but her solemn expression didn't lift.

“Well, it looks like we have some time to kill today,” Mandy said. “How about if you and I bake some homemade cookies for Santa?”

This time Emily's nod was vigorous.

“Come on. Let's see if we have what we need in the kitchen. If we don't, we'll go to the grocery store.”

Mandy took inventory in Pam Wyndham's kitchen, hoping she wasn't being too presumptuous. Flour and sugar, check. Butter and eggs, check. Vanilla, baking soda, salt . . .

“Now, where do you suppose your grandma would keep chocolate chips?”

Emily rummaged through the pantry and produced a bag of chips.

“Eureka!” Mandy winced inwardly. Her cheer sounded forced to her own ears. But it got a smile out of Emily, and those were harder to come by today. The seven-year-old was such a sweet combination of silly and serious, it tugged at Mandy's heart.

Jake emerged from down the hall.

“Hi,” Mandy said. This time she didn't bother asking where he'd been. His behavior since they got here had been inconsistent, to say the least, but she wasn't going to worry about mixed signals now. It was the day before Christmas, and there was baking to do. “Do you think your mom's going to mind my raiding her kitchen to make cookies?”

“For cookies? I don't think you'll get any complaints around here.”

“They're for Santa,” Emily chimed in.

Jake's brow furrowed as his eyes went from Emily to Mandy. She had a feeling he was trying to say something with that look, but it was hard to interpret, especially with Emily starting to bounce impatiently on her toes.

“What do we do first?” Emily prodded.

“Well—” Mandy turned to face the girl. “Have you ever made cookies?”

“I've helped before.”

“Okay. Then you know it can get messy. That's a pretty sweater you're wearing. Do you know if your grandma has an apron anywhere?”

Emily frowned, trying to think.

Jake nodded at the china hutch across the room. “Top drawer, I think. Although I'm not sure how I even know that.”

“Maybe you made cookies for Santa before,” Emily said.

“If I did, I did
not
wear an apron.” Jake's eyes followed his niece as she skipped to the cabinet. His frown lingered faintly.

Emily pulled open the drawer. “I only see one.”

“That's okay.” Mandy glanced down at her sequined sweater. “I'll find a sweatshirt upstairs to change into.”

Jake followed her upstairs to the guest room and closed the door behind them.

Mandy looked at him quizzically. “Um, you're not helping me change.”

He leaned back on the door, grasping the knob awkwardly. “I know. I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

Mandy thought of the Rockefeller Center tree. Of last night in the kitchen. But this didn't look like good news. She eyed him cautiously. “Okay.”

“Emily's been asking—questions. About Santa.” He paused. “And if it comes up today—well, I was wondering what you'd say.”

Mandy's mouth went dry. “What do you want me to say?”

“I'm not sure.” Jake avoided her eyes, and that wasn't like him. “Susan's been trying to figure out how to handle it, too. I just thought we should get on the same page. And not say anything too—fanciful.”

The room got very, very quiet. So quiet that Mandy imagined she could hear Emily downstairs, rummaging for bowls and spoons. She knew full well the sound couldn't travel through that door and up the stairs, any more than Jake's niece could hear their voices. But Mandy also knew she didn't want Emily overhearing any of this.

Mandy spoke in a whisper. “Childhood is short enough as it is. It's the only time most people really believe in Santa. Why take that away?”

“I wouldn't want to.” Jake stepped closer to Mandy as he lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “But I think maybe . . . by the time they ask, they're ready to know the truth.”

That last word made her wince. “Your truth is a little different from mine.”

“I know.” Jake studied her, and she knew he was trying to be careful. Trying, diplomatically, not to offend her. “But an eyewitness account, at this point . . . it might do more harm than good.”

Mandy stared at him, her heart sinking. “I don't get it. When you heard me tell the story to kids in Tall Pine, you thought it was adorable.”

“I guess it's because those kids—I don't think they were really questioning yet.”

“Or maybe it's because they weren't related to you.” She fought the feeling of hurt rising into her throat. “That's it, isn't it? You're afraid I'm going to warp your niece?”

“That's not what I said,” Jake stammered. “I was just afraid you might—get caught off guard. This is a rough year for her, and—”

“You think I don't know that?”

“—and I don't want to set her up for disappointment.”

It was all she could do to hold her voice to a whisper. “So you want me to tell a seven-year-old girl there's no Santa Claus.”

“I didn't say that! But let's just say, not every kid has the experience you had.”

Mandy took a deep breath. And another. She still couldn't imagine what Jake expected her to say, but whatever it was, it was impossible.

“Why did you bring me here?” she said. “I can't see this your way. I can't. And I really can't stand the fact that you're never going to believe in me.”

She couldn't see Jake. Her eyes were blurred over. But she couldn't think of anything else to say, either. So she brushed past him, out of the room, and started down the hall for the stairs. She'd only gotten a few steps when she felt Jake grasp her by the arms and turn her around.

“You know how much I don't believe in you?” He kept his voice low. “I've spent the last twenty-four hours on the phone trying to work out a small business loan so I can open your Christmas hotel in Tall Pine.”

“But Regal—”

“—scrapped it. They want to send me to Florida. And I didn't want to leave Tall Pine. Or you. If that doesn't tell you anything . . .” He dropped his hands. “Then maybe you want too much.”

He strode down the hallway, away from her.

Mandy tried to find her voice. “Jake?”

Emily called from downstairs. “Mandy?”

The door to Jake's bedroom closed quietly, and somehow that was worse than a slam.

Mandy dabbed at her eyes and hurried back down to the kitchen.

Emily stood waiting, a too-big green apron awkwardly tied around her. The cookie ingredients, bowls and measuring spoons were laid out on the kitchen island in an orderly fashion.

“You didn't change your sweater,” Emily said.

“I forgot to pack my baking sweatshirt. Wasn't that dumb?”

 

 

All right,
that
went well.

Jake leaned back in the swivel chair in front of his laptop and closed his eyes. His muscles felt tight. He tried counting to ten. Then to twenty. Eventually he made it to a hundred and seventy.

This had to happen sooner or later, he thought. If things worked out the way he'd planned, they would have to go through this argument eventually, about their own child. Maybe it was best to have it happen now.

But what was the answer? He didn't see a lot of room for compromise.

When he opened his eyes, the laptop screen stared back at him like a vacant gray-black eyeball. He closed the lid. He wasn't going to hear back from anyone the day before Christmas, anyway.

What a great way to blurt out his half-baked plans for a future with Mandy. He had no idea where the two of them stood right now. There had to be a way to work this out. But at the moment, it felt as if he and Mandy were poles apart.

North Pole and South Pole.

Who was right and who was wrong was beside the point. Except that Emily was downstairs right now, and she could be asking for an answer any minute.

 

 

It was a good thing Mandy knew her cookie recipe by heart, because her mind was elsewhere.

It was an even better thing that she remembered to double-check the recipe on the bag of chocolate chips, because in Tall Pine, she always used the high-altitude instructions.

“Less flour, more sugar,” she murmured, while Emily looked on with concern.

Her hands shook as she fished the excess flour from the bowl they'd just poured it into, taking care not to disturb the baking soda and salt. Adding extra sugar to the other mixing bowl was easier. It was just a good thing she'd caught her mistake before they combined the two bowls.

“Disaster averted,” she told Emily with a smile.

If only other things were as easy to fix. The argument with Jake kept echoing in her mind, and she hadn't had a chance to fully digest his news about the hotel. Suddenly his behavior made a whole lot more sense. Who else in the world would try to finance a hotel project two days before Christmas?

You know how much I don't believe in you?
he'd asked.

Mandy bit her lip as she stared into the bowl of flour. Maybe she was the one who hadn't believed enough in
him.

But that didn't solve the situation with Emily.

She turned her attention to her small baking partner, who'd worked so meticulously alongside her to get the measurements right. “Now we stir it all together,” Mandy said.

“Shouldn't we put in the chocolate chips first?”

“No, first we mix everything else. The chips come last. Don't worry. I don't think there's a chance either of us will forget those.”

Mandy combined the two mixtures into the larger bowl, blending them just enough so that the flour wouldn't fly everywhere. Then she pushed the bowl in front of Emily. “Now it's your turn to stir,” she said. “I warn you, it takes muscle.”

It would take time, too, but that was something they definitely had. It wasn't even noon yet.

Emily set fiercely to work, golden brown bangs falling over her forehead, her tongue between her lips in concentration.

Mandy asked, “Do you usually put cookies out for Santa at home?”

Emily nodded, her head still bent to her work. “And my dad goes outside to check for Santa with binoculars. When he sees the lights from the sleigh, that's how he knows it's time for me to go to bed.”

Mandy grinned. This, from the brother who'd told Jake there was no Santa Claus. “That's a good idea. I never thought of that.”

Then Emily looked up, brown eyes shining like glass. “I miss my dad.”

Mandy's heart wrenched. “And he misses you, too. You can be awfully proud of him. He's working hard for his country, but I know he's thinking about you and your mom.”

Emily returned to her stirring with even fiercer concentration. Mandy tried to think of something to say that would help.

Then she thought of something better to say.

“Know what? We'll have to check with your mom, but I'm pretty sure we could send your dad a package with some of these cookies in it.”

Emily raised her head again, and this time she smiled.