The Miracle on 34th Street (4 page)

Next, the Santa himself appeared on the screen. "Christmas is the time of year when we should go out of our way to help others," he said with a twinkly smile. "A corporation should do the same for its customers."

The camera cut to the reporter again. "Well, I know where
I'm
going to be doing
my
shopping this Christmas." She turned to a group of kids who'd gathered around her. "How about
you
guys?" she asked.

"
CO-O-O-OLE'S!
" the kids screamed. Lamberg was seeing red.

The next day, Cole's was jammed. Dorey and Shellhammer looked down at Santa's Workshop from a balcony.

"You don't think he's nuts?" Dorey asked. "He absolutely believes he's Santa Claus."

"So what?" Shellhammer said. "Our sales are up seventy percent. In a week, the company has turned around."

"And we could turn the other way just as fast if this guy does something wrong. I mean, you can't rest the fate of the whole company on one very unstable old man."

"I'm not worried," Shellhammer replied.

They both looked at Kringle again.

He was using sign language to speak to a hearing-impaired girl on his knee.

In a nook of the workshop, Susan watched him with amazement. The little girl's fingers were flying gracefully in the air, and so were Kringle's. Both of them laughed at whatever they were saying.

Then Kringle's eyes caught Susan's, and he winked.

Susan ducked into the shadows.

Uptown, Jack Duff and Alberta Leonard were having a conference with the director of the Mount

Carmel Senior Center.

"It's awfully nice of you people at Cole's to hire Kriss," said the director, Dr. Douglas Pierce.

"We're happy to have him," Duff lied. "We only came down because we need a little background on him, and we didn't want to embarrass him."

"Yes, well, he is a bit eccentric," Dr. Pierce said.

"Yeah," Duff replied. "Do you know if he has a record of mental problems? Has he been institutionalized? Are there any situations where he might turn violent?"

"I don't know much of Kriss's history," Dr.Pierce answered. "He arrived just after Christmas last year and said he'd like to move in. And I must tell you, Mr. Duff, people are institutionalized when they pose a threat to themselves or others. Mr. Kringle wants only to be helpful and friendly. As an expert in geriatrics, I believe Kriss does not possess any dangerous tendencies."

"We don't want to deprive Mr. Kringle of something that obviously gives him great pleasure," Duff said. "But you have to understand Cole's position."

"Of course." Dr. Pierce nodded. "As long as he's not unreasonably provoked or ridiculed for his beliefs, he's going to be fine."

Unreasonably provoked.

Duff sneaked a glance at Alberta. That was just what they wanted to hear.

Susan stood in the living room archway. She hadn't expected to see her mom on the couch at this hour. Oh, well, better sneak back into the bedroom.

"Susan? What are you doing out of bed?"

Too late. "Something's driving me crazy and I can't sleep," Susan replied.

She walked into the room and plopped onto the couch next to her mom.

"What's on your mind?" Dorey asked.

"Santa Claus," Susan said "Mr. Kringle. He talked sign language with a kid today. It's weird how he knows so much about toys and kids. He speaks Russian and Japanese."

"He might be a very learned man."

"He looks exactly like every picture of Santa Claus I ever saw. Are you
positive
he's not the real Santa?"

"He fits the type, Susan. That's why I chose him." Dorey let out a deep sigh. "We've talked about Santa Claus. You understand what he is."

"What if we're wrong? That would be extremely rude. And besides, all of my friends believe in Santa Claus."

"A lot of kids your age do."

Susan frowned. "How come
I
don't?"

"Because you know the truth," Dorey replied. "And truth is the most important thing in the world. Believing in myths and fantasies makes people unhappy."

"Did you believe in Santa Claus when you were my age, and were you unhappy?"

"I did believe, and when all of the things I believed in turned out not to be true, I was very unhappy." Dorey smiled. "Look, you can believe what you want to believe. If I'm wrong, I'll admit it. Next time you see Mr. Kringle, ask for something you'd never ask me for. Then, if you don't get it for Christmas, you'll know the honest truth about Santa Claus. Okay?"

"Okay, Mom." Susan stood up. "Good night."

"Good night."

Susan walked to her bedroom, but her mind was spinning with an idea. Something that would settle the truth once and for all.

On the morning of December 12, television cameras swarmed all over the Cole's employee locker room.
Good Morning America
was about to interview Kriss Kringle.

Dorey helped him put on his cape. "Just be yourself," she encouraged him. "Don't think about the camera."

"I must confess," Kringle said. "I don't understand this fuss being made over me. To most people, I'm just an old man with a beard."

"But you're still the symbol of the holiday season.

Kringle looked at her evenly. "You think I'm a fraud, don't you? And so does your daughter."

"Well, I don't think there's any harm in not believing in a figure that many acknowledge to be a fiction."

"Oh, but there is," Kringle said. "I'm not just a jolly, whimsical figure in a charming suit. I'm a symbol of the human ability to suppress the selfish, hateful tendencies that rule so much of our lives. If you can't believe, if you can't accept anything on faith, then you are doomed to a lifetime dominated by doubt."

Dorey could not believe what she was hearing. This looney old guy was lecturing
her
! What nerve!

When Kringle spoke again, his voice was softer, kinder. "I like you very much, Mrs. Walker. If I can make you and your daughter believe, there's hope for me. If not, I'm finished." He smiled and took Dorey's arm. "Shall we go?"

Dorey brought him to the TV camera. Then she watched his interview.

He was good. Professional. Friendly. Sincere.

And somehow, he made her feel totally mixed-up inside.

An hour later, Dorey's office phone was ringing off the hook. It seemed that the whole city had seen the interview.

"No, I'm sorry, he can't do private sessions," she said into the receiver. "That wouldn't be fair to the other kids—"

Myrna peeked into her office. "Mr. Bedford's on line three," she whispered.

"Excuse me for a moment," Dorey said into the phone. She pressed line three. "Bryan? I've got the mayor's office on hold. What's up?"

Bryan's voice replied, "If I can arrange a reputable baby-sitter for Susan tonight, do you want to do some shopping and have dinner? Say, at seven?"

"I'm not sure what—" Dorey thought about the mayor waiting on the other line. "Oh, okay. Fine. Seven."

Dorey was dead tired as she walked into her apartment that night at 7:01.

Sure enough, Bryan was already there, with Susan and Kriss Kringle.

Kriss Kringle?

"Hello, Mrs. Walker," Kringle said

Dorey tried to smile. "Hello, Mr. Kringle."

Susan was grinning from ear to ear. "Nobody at school's going to believe this one, huh?"

"If you
have
to have a baby-sitter," Bryan said with a nervous smile, "who's better qualified?"

Dorey kept her silent smile. She had to. If she let it down for a moment, she might scream.

She didn't say another word until she and Bryan left the building and were heading downtown in a taxi.

"It was Susan's idea," said Bryan. "I just think she wanted to have something good to talk about in school, that's all. Having Santa Claus baby-sit for you is a pretty hot topic. If you're angry, I understand."

Dorey stared out the taxi window. "It's okay," she said. "I'm just a little nervous. Kriss isn't the most normal man in the city."

"You're right." Bryan chuckled. "He doesn't lie, cheat, or steal."

Dorey laughed.

She was feeling more relaxed now. The lights of Times Square, the shop windows, the happy families arm in arm—the sights of the season were lifting Dorey's spirits.

Bryan had picked a cozy restaurant for dinner. Afterward they went skating at the rink in Central Park.

As they glided around the rink, holding hands, Christmas carols played on speakers around them.

One by one, the skaters began singing along. A policeman, looking over the rink, joined in. Then a group of tourists. A chestnut vendor. A street sweeper.

Before long the entire rink area was a sweet chorus.

Bryan was among them, singing his heart out.

And so was Dorey.

It was that kind of night.

In Dorey's apartment, Susan lay under her sheets. For eleven days she'd been dying to tell Kriss Kringle her deepest wish. To test whether he was real.

But now that Kringle was there, she was clamming up. What if he and her mom were in this together? She'd tell Mr. Kringle her wish, and he'd be sure not to get it for her, just to prove he wasn't real.

"There has to be
something
you want for Christmas," Kringle said. "You know, I'm
very
good at keeping secrets."

Susan looked deeply into his eyes.

Oh, well. What did she have to lose?

She got out of bed and took a locked box from her desk drawer. Opening it, she carefully removed a folded photo she'd ripped from a Cole's catalog.

In the photo was a happy family, sitting on the porch of a house. A father, a mother, and a girl about Susan's age were smiling at each other as if someone had told a great joke. On the father's lap sat a chubby-cheeked baby boy.

She handed the photo to Kringle. "That's what I want for Christmas," she said softly. "A house. A baby brother. A dad. That's all I ever want. If you're really Santa Claus, you can get it for me. If you can't, you're only a nice man with a white beard, like my mother says."

Kriss Kringle was staring at the photo. Susan couldn't be sure, but she thought she could see his eyes moisten.

"Susan, just because every child doesn't get his or her wish, doesn't mean there isn't a Santa Claus."

"I thought you might say that." Susan looked at the floor. "Well, I don't think I'll ever get those things, so it's no big deal."

"May I keep this picture?" Kringle asked.

"Sure."

Kriss Kringle folded the photo up again and said good night. As he backed out of the room and dimmed the light, Susan felt herself drifting into sleep.

"A family for Christmas," she mumbled to herself. "I don't think so."

Bryan and Dorey strolled home, loaded with gift bags. Beneath the clear, star-flecked sky, Christmas lights twinkled on the lampposts.

"Was that so bad?" Bryan asked.

"I had a great time," Dorey said dreamily. "I should have listened to you earlier. You're a very patient man, Bryan. Most guys are gone after a few moments of me. I guess I'm very . . .
careful
in my life. I don't need to be disappointed."

Disappointed
. The sound of that word hit Bryan hard. He knew what Dorey meant. She didn't want to get married to someone who would leave her.

Like her first husband did.

Bryan knew one thing for sure—
he
would never let Dorey down.

"I got you a Christmas present," Bryan said as they stopped in front of their apartment building. "I want to give it to you."

"What is it?" Dorey asked.

Bryan pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Open it."

Warily Dorey ripped off the wrapping and opened the box.

It was a ring. With a perfect diamond that glinted in the light from the street lamp.

Bryan waited for her reaction. His eyes were bright with hope.

Dorey stared blankly. Then she snapped the box shut.

When she looked at Bryan, her eyes were on fire. "I don't want a
ring
," she said through clenched teeth. "You have a lot of nerve doing this to me. You trick me. You trick my daughter. This is cheap."

Dorey spun around toward the front door, but Bryan grabbed her arm. "I didn't trick you. I mean it. I want to marry you!"

"You think you can shove a ring in my face and expect to change me?" Dorey snapped.

Bryan had to swallow hard. His patience was running out. "Dorey, I've been dating you for two years. You have never given me any idea how you feel about me! I've done everything I could to try to make you happy. I love your daughter like she's my own. I've loved you, getting nothing in return—never
asking
anything in return. I put my faith in you."

"You're a fool!"

"At least I'm not living a life of doubt!" Bryan shot back.

Dorey pulled her arm away and ran toward the building. Her face was red with fury. She took a present out of her shopping bag and hurled it at him.

Then, fighting tears, she stormed through the door.

Bryan slumped on the park bench across the street from his building. He opened the jewelry box and gazed at the beautiful ring he'd bought.

In a few moments, Kriss Kringle walked out of the building. "Mr. Kringle!" Bryan called out.

Smiling, Kringle crossed the street toward him. "How was your night?" Bryan asked.

"Very pleasant," Kringle said. Raising an expectant eyebrow, he continued, "You didn't call me over here to ask me that. What about our plan—me baby-sitting so you could have a date with Mrs. Walker?"

Bryan sighed. "Your idea was good, Kriss. It just didn't work. We had a good time, but the problem was, I . . . improved on your idea a little bit. I bought her an engagement ring."

Kringle grimaced.

"She didn't like it," Bryan went on. "Actually, she said she doesn't like what the ring
stands
for."