A Gift For Santa. Beth Carpenter
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ONE
Twenty-four days till Christmas
NO SNOW. No Uncle Oliver. Even the reindeer weren’t cooperating. Instead of following the others out, Peppermint pawed at the floor of the trailer and shook her head, jingling the bells on her harness.
Marissa scratched the hairy diva’s forehead and spoke in a low voice. “Come on, girl. You’ll have fun. Think of all those kids so excited to ride behind a real live reindeer.” She patted Peppermint’s neck until she seemed calm. “Let’s go. Your public awaits.” She gave a little tug on the lead, and with a toss of her antlers, the reindeer trip-trapped down the ramp. Her snort formed a cloud of white vapor in the icy air.
The last few rays of sun cast a pink glow on the oval track of trucked-in snow, breaking up the expanse of brown grass. Ordinarily, at least ten inches of packed snow would blanket the area beside the golf-course clubhouse Grizzlyco always rented for their Christmas party, making it the perfect venue for reindeer sleigh rides. But there was nothing ordinary about this year, especially without Oliver playing Santa Claus.
It felt wrong, setting up for a party without Oliver’s hearty “Ho, ho, ho,” booming in the background as he warmed up for his favorite role. Her uncle barely had the energy to get out of bed these days, much less spend a strenuous evening handling reindeer and wrestling children on and off his lap.
Aunt Becky pulled one of the pop-up Christmas trees from the back of the truck and stopped to look across the clearing, where a man was attaching grooming equipment to the back of a snow machine. “The snow track looks good.”
“It does. I’m amazed Grizzlyco took on the expense of trucking in snow.”
“Lucky for us, this is their premier event of the year, and the sleigh rides for the kids are a big draw.” Becky frowned. “And speaking of draws, have you seen the guy who’s supposed to play Santa?”
“Not that I know of.” A few people had been milling around the kitchen and decorating the party room when she went inside earlier, but she hadn’t seen anyone who looked like a would-be Santa. Of course, it was hard to picture anyone else in the role except Oliver.
Becky clucked her tongue. “He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I’ll take this tree inside and see if he’s arrived.”
Marissa unloaded the other tree and Santa’s throne. On her final trip indoors, she found Becky pressing the cell phone to her ear, a look of panic spreading across her face. Was Oliver okay? Marissa stepped closer to listen to the conversation.
“Yes, it’s today. What’s all that noise? Are you in a bar?” Becky paced back and forth as she waited for the reply. “No, thank you. And don’t bother showing up for the next one, either. Yes, well, I’m sorry, too. Goodbye.” Becky tapped the phone and met Marissa’s eyes. “No Santa.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“That’s what I get for hiring someone’s nephew as a favor. He sounded half-sloshed.” Becky gazed upward. “Now what do we do?”
“I don’t know.” Marissa thought for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to draft Dillon.” Although how they were going to turn their sixteen-year-old assistant, with a voice that tended to unexpectedly switch octaves, into the jolly old elf himself was hard to imagine.
“Dillon?”
“Who else? Maddy or Jasmine? All they do is giggle.”
“True.” Becky shook her head. “I’ve got one or two possibilities. Let me make some calls while I set up Santa’s throne.”
“All right.” Marissa unpacked the tree she’d brought in. “I’ll make sure the reindeer rides are ready to go.”
Becky nodded, already flicking through the contacts on her phone. Marissa picked up the empty tree bags and carried them to the truck.
Hiring a Santa was never a consideration before, with Oliver so perfect for the role. He kept his white beard all year round in preparation for the Christmas season. How long had he been going downhill? It had been too many years since Marissa had made it back to Alaska to visit. Oliver had seemed fine last February when he and Aunt Becky had come to see her in Louisiana—maybe a little thinner, less energetic, but then he was getting older. Still, she should have realized something was wrong.
If she hadn’t been so busy assisting Jason with that fund-raiser while they were visiting, she would have. Or maybe not. If she were any good at picking up subtle clues, Jason couldn’t have conned her and left her jobless and under suspicion of fraud. Once the River Foundation closed, ending her work there, she’d come slinking back to the reindeer farm outside Anchorage where she’d grown up. She’d never expected to find Oliver so pale and weak. Why had they kept it from her? At least the train wreck in her own life brought her home, where she could help Becky get through the Christmas season.
Marissa stopped to check on the reindeer and the three elves who would lead them around the tracks. The teenagers clustered together under the light pole where children would be lining up for rides. “You guys all have your boots and costumes, right?”
“Do I really have to wear the thing with the bells?” Dillon scratched the back of his neck.
“Of course. It’s all part of being an elf. You’re lucky. When I was your age and doing this job, I had to wear elf ears, too. The only reason you don’t is that people kept asking if I was a Vulcan.”
Predictably, the girls giggled. Dillon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We just have to lead the reindeer and pull the kids, right? We don’t have to talk to the kids or anything?”
Hmm. Not the best candidate to embrace the whole Santa Claus persona. Surely Becky could come up with someone better. Marissa gave Dillon an encouraging smile. “Just look friendly and lead the reindeer around the track. Becky will handle getting the kids in and out of the sleds. Okay?”
Dillon nodded and adjusted Peppermint’s harness. At the other end of the clearing, the snow machine made a second pass along the track, leaving a packed trail with twin grooves in the snow. At least something was going right. Marissa had figured the trucks would just dump the snow, but whoever had hauled it in had taken the trouble to find a cross-country ski groomer and condition the trail. That would make the reindeers’ job, as well as that of the reindeer handlers’, much smoother.
Marissa walked over to the edge of the oval and waved down the driver. He stopped the snow machine in the shadow of a tall spruce, cut the engine and lifted the helmet from his head.
She stepped forward. “Thanks for grooming. It looks great. We appreciate the extra effort.”
“Bo?”
She froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Great, just great. What were the odds of running into him here? If they had to meet, she would have liked it to be on her own terms, not when she was already frazzled. But it had to be Chris. Nobody else ever called her Bo, short for Rainbow, because he said her smile was like a burst of sunshine after a rainstorm. At least he used to say that, a long time ago.
She swallowed. “Hello, Chris.”
“Why are you here?” He stepped out of the shadow. The light from the pole bounced off auburn hair, disheveled from the helmet. His beard was neatly trimmed, not wild and curly the way it tended to be at the end of fishing season, but he still had the same broad shoulders, the same crooked smile. Maybe a few more lines around his eyes. Darned if he didn’t look even better than he had ten years ago.
“I’m helping with the party.” And that’s all he needed to know.
“I mean in Alaska. I thought you’d gone for good.”
She nodded. “This is just temporary. I’m between jobs and Becky needed help for the busy season.”
Chris studied her face. “I see.”
He looked as though he did see.