“My mom will be glad to help with that,” Trish offered. “She’s great with kids. She’s right over here.”
Trish led the way to an empty table that was being held by a woman who looked to be in her midfifties, about the same age as Amy’s mother. She looked as if she’d run out of the house in the midst of baking. She still wore an apron over her slacks and sweater and there were streaks of flour on her clothes. The coat she’d flung on looked as if it might be her husband’s hunting jacket. Her hair was mussed, as if it had curled while she was working around a hot stove. Despite her disheveled appearance, she gave Amy a warm smile.
“You must be Amy,” she said as they approached. “Maylene Kinney described you perfectly.” She beamed at Josh. “And you must be the little boy who got away.”
Josh nodded. “I’m in trouble,” he said, awkwardly balancing the tray of pizza and drinks.
“I imagine you are,” she said. “But you’re safe and that’s what counts.”
Mrs. DiCaprio rescued the tray of food and set it on the table. “Oh, that looks good. I think I’ll run and get a slice for myself. I’ve been baking all day and haven’t had a minute to eat anything. Don’t wait for me.”
Amy stared after her. She felt as if she’d been caught up in a whirlwind, then set back down in the calm that followed. “Is she always like this?”
Trish chuckled. “Pretty much. Look, is it okay if I leave you in her hands? I need to go and check on Santa. He was a bit surly before.”
“Sure,” Amy said, then thought of her earlier conviction that something had happened to Nick on the job recently. That fit with what Trish had mentioned about his involvement in Josh’s search being newsworthy. “Trish, before you go, can I ask you something?”
Trish’s expression turned cautious. “About?”
“Your brother.” She moved away from the table and out of Josh’s hearing so she wouldn’t completely destroy his illusion of Nick as Santa. “Is there some reason reporters would be all over this story, other than it being Christmas Eve and Santa helping to find Josh?”
Trish hesitated a long time before answering. “You’ll have to ask Nicky about that,” she said finally. “I really do have to go now. He’ll be over to get you soon, I’m sure. Or I’ll come back myself. In the meantime, Mom will be around if you need anything.”
She took off, leaving Amy’s question unanswered. But even without Trish’s confirmation, she knew she was right. There was something about Nick she needed to know before things went any further between them. Everything pointed to the fact that he was a great guy and he was certainly surrounded by a wonderful family, if Trish and his mom were anyone to judge by. But he had a secret and she’d had her fill of men with secrets.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT HAD BEEN A DAY of astonishing ups and downs, Amy thought as she and Mrs. DiCaprio slowly ate their slices of pizza and listened to Josh going on and on about everything he’d seen while he was on his own in the mall. Nick’s mom seemed highly amused by his nonstop chatter, which was all Josh needed. He liked nothing more than an appreciative audience. More worrisome to Amy was the fact that he sounded as if he still thought it was all a huge adventure.
“You do remember what you promised Santa, right?” she asked eventually.
“That I won’t ever run away from you again,” he said at once. “But Mom, I wasn’t lost, not really. You were right here.”
“But I didn’t know where you were,” she explained. “That’s what counts.”
“I get it,” he said impatiently as he stuffed the last of his pizza into his mouth. “Can we go back now?”
Amy thought of Trish’s warning and cast a helpless look toward Mrs. DiCaprio, who immediately grasped her dilemma.
“Josh, I think your mom needs to rest a bit longer,” Nick’s mother said. “She wasn’t feeling well this morning and then she had quite a scare when you disappeared.”
His expression turned into a pout that set Amy’s teeth on edge.
“Young man, don’t give me a look like that or we’ll leave this mall and you won’t see Santa at all,” Amy threatened. “You need to sit here and behave yourself while I feed Emma. Thank goodness I thought to stick some baby food and a bottle in my bag when we left home. I must have had some instinct that seeing Santa wouldn’t go as planned.”
“Can’t I go see Santa while you feed her?” he pleaded. “Mrs. DiCaprio could take me.” Apparently he recognized his mother’s exasperated expression, because he sighed heavily. “Okay, okay, I’ll wait.”
“Smart decision,” she commended him.
“Josh, what’s on your list for Santa?” Mrs. DiCaprio asked him.
“I can’t tell,” he said. “It’s like a birthday wish. If you tell, it won’t come true.”
She grinned at him. “But I happen to know Santa very well,” she confided in him. “Maybe I could put in a good word for you.”
Josh’s expression turned thoughtful, but then he shook his head. “That’s okay. I think me and Santa are pals. I’ll just tell him myself.”
Mrs. DiCaprio chuckled. “You know something, Josh. You are a very self-possessed, confident young man. You remind me of another boy.”
“Your son?” he guessed.
“Exactly.” She pointed to the strands of gray in her hair. “You see all this gray hair? He’s the reason I have it. Every time I turned around, he was getting into some kind of mischief. I have four children, all grown now, but only one of them threatened to turn me old before my time.” She winked at Amy. “He still has that effect on me, thanks to that job of his.”
“What kind of job is it?” Josh asked, regarding her with a rapt expression. “Maybe I could do the same thing when I grow up.”
“He’s a police detective, as a matter of fact,” Mrs. DiCaprio said. “And while he’s very good at it, I worry about him.”
“Santa says all moms worry about their kids, no matter how old they get,” Josh told her.
“That’s very true,” Mrs. DiCaprio confirmed.
“Do you worry about Trish, too?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” she told him. “She works too hard and she could use a little more fun in her life, but at least her work isn’t dangerous like my son’s.”
Amy thought of Nick and envisioned him as a mischievous boy a lot like Josh. It gave her a whole other perspective on the man. She considered asking Mrs. DiCaprio about whatever might be troubling him these days, but decided Trish was right. The answers needed to come from Nick himself.
“Amy?”
Startled, she met Mrs. DiCaprio’s gaze. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“I asked if you and your children have plans for tomorrow.”
“It’s Christmas!” Josh said, interrupting. “We’re opening presents.”
The older woman smiled. “I meant after that, of course,” she assured him, then met Amy’s eyes. “Would you like to spend the afternoon at our house and have dinner with us? It’ll be a madhouse, but Rob’s sons are about Josh’s age. I think he’d enjoy meeting them, don’t you? And he has a little girl—Annie—who’s only a little older than your Emma.”
Amy appreciated the woman’s kindness, but surely their presence would be an intrusion. “I’m sure Josh would love meeting them sometime, but we wouldn’t want to impose on your family’s holiday.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. DiCaprio said at once. “It’s no imposition at all. I always cook enough for an army. The turkey’s huge, so everyone can take home leftovers. And I’ve been baking for a month now.” She cast a chagrined glance at her flour-covered clothes. “I’m still at it, as you can see. I’m hoping to get one more batch of cookies done before church tonight. There’s a reception after the early service.”
“Then we shouldn’t keep you,” Amy said. “We’ll be fine here till Trish comes back for us.”
“A little while longer won’t make a bit of difference,” Mrs. DiCaprio responded. “The dough’s in the refrigerato
r chilling. All I need to do is slice the cookies and put them in the oven, while I get dressed for church.”
“We used to go to church on Christmas Eve,” Josh said.
“Aren’t you going to a service tonight?” Mrs. DiCaprio asked.
“Actually we haven’t had a chance to find a church since we moved here,” Amy admitted. “Nick mentioned something about us coming with you.”
“Really?” she said, a speculative glint in her eyes.
“What a wonderful idea! Then you’ll get to meet everyone before tomorrow, so you’ll have no excuse not to join us for Christmas dinner.”
“Can we, Mom? Please!” Josh begged.
Amy recognized that Mrs. DiCaprio had an agenda, but Josh looked so excited that she couldn’t bring herself to say no. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble, we’d love to. The prospect of just the three of us for Christmas dinner didn’t hold a lot of appeal.”
“I’m sure it didn’t,” Mrs. DiCaprio sympathized. “The holidays are meant for families to celebrate together.” She glanced up. “Ah, here comes Trish now.” She stood up. “I’ll leave you in her hands and see you this evening. If my husband’s still circling around in the parking lot after all this time, he may never bring me here again.”
To Amy’s surprise, she leaned down and gave her a warm hug. “It was wonderful to meet you, Amy. I think fate had a hand in everything that happened today.”
With that, she gathered up their trash, tossed it away, then rushed off with a merry wave in their direction.
Trish gave Amy a speculative look. “I imagine we’ll be seeing you at her house tomorrow.”
Amy nodded. “She doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Not when it’s for the greater good,” Trish agreed.
“Which is?”
“Giving my brother exactly what he needs for Christmas.”
Amy blushed when she realized that Trish was referring to her. To change the subject, she asked, “How did it go with the reporter?”
“She understands,” Trish said. “Everything should be fine.”
Amy smiled. “Is it okay for Josh to visit with Santa?”
Trish nodded. “That’s why I came back for you now. With a half hour to go till the mall closes, there’s still a short line. I figure you guys will blend right in. There’s no reason for anyone to link you to the big story of the day.”
“What about Nick? Was he interviewed?”
“Nope,” Trish said grimly. “I told her he’d refused. He had a lot going on as it was—the kid on his lap was screaming bloody murder.” She grinned at the memory.
Amy smiled. “How did Nick take that?”
“Stayed right on script,” Trish said proudly. “He never missed a beat with the ho-ho-ho’s and asking what the kid wanted for Christmas.”
“Mom!” Josh interrupted, clearly tired of waiting. “Can we go now!”
“Okay, okay,” she said, regarding Trish ruefully. “Let’s go.”
As she put an exhausted and unprotesting Emma back into her stroller, Amy was filled with an unexpected sense of anticipation. It had been a lot of years since she’d been this eager to pay a visit to Santa.
The line was shorter now and they were at the end of it. No one came along to wait behind them. Exhausted shoppers were leaving the mall now in droves.
When Josh’s turn came, he was still the last in line. The instant he climbed onto Santa’s knee and Amy had placed Emma beside him, the photographer snapped their picture, then handed the instant photo to Amy. “No charge,” he said as he packed up his things and left in a rush for whatever holiday festivities awaited him.
Emma leaned contentedly against Nick’s chest and closed her eyes. The sight of her daughter in Nick’s arms brought an odd tightness to Amy’s heart. She had a feeling this image would linger inside her long after the photo had faded.
“So, young man,” Nick said to Josh in his booming Santa voice, “What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”
She tuned out the sound of her son’s words as he recited not only his own list, one with which she was thoroughly familiar, but Emma’s. It was a modest enough list by most standards and she knew that everything on it would be under the tree. The only wish she couldn’t grant was his longing to see his dad on Christmas morning.
When Josh’s consultation with Santa was over, Nick left the village with Emma in his arms and joined her. “Are we still on for church tonight?” he asked. “I can give you directions and meet you there, and then introduce you to the rest of my family.” He gave her a hard look. “Or was meeting my mother more than enough?”
“Your mother is incredible,” she told him. “She’s invited us for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
He didn’t look all that surprised. “I had a hunch that would come up.”
“You didn’t put her up to it?”
“My existence as a bachelor is enough to put her up to it,” he said dryly. “Keep in mind she’s scheming.”
“I gathered as much,” Amy admitted.
“And?”
“And what?” she asked.
“How do you feel about her scheme?”
“I told her we’d be there tomorrow.” Her gaze locked with his. “How do you feel about her agenda?”
A grin spread across his face. “Better than I did a few minutes ago,” he revealed. “How about giving me a moment to get out of this costume and I’ll walk out with you?”
Amy glanced pointedly at Josh. “Not a good idea,” she said succinctly.
“Of course not,” he said at once. “What was I thinking?”
He looked around till he spotted Trish. “Sis, any problem if I wear this home?”
Laughing, she merely waved him away. “Go.”
Josh looked from Nick to Trish and back again. “Is she your sister?” he asked, his expression puzzled.
Nick winced. “She is.”
“Then that lady, Mrs. DiCaprio, is your mom, too?” Josh pressed.
Nick nodded.
Amy held her breath as Josh absorbed that information.
Finally Josh looked Nick in the eye. “Awesome! I know Santa’s real mom! The kids back in Michigan will freak when I tell ’em. Can I call tonight, Mom? Can I? They’re not going to believe this.”
“Sure, you can call as soon as we get home,” Amy told him, relieved that the whole Santa illusion hadn’t been ruined. If anything, it had been reinforced and improved on.
“Then let’s go,” Josh said, trying to hurry her along. “I’ll push Emma’s stroller.”
“Just don’t get too far head of us, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder to make sure she and Santa were close on his heels.
“I guess your lecture got through to him,” she told Nick. “I think it made more of an impact coming from you.”
“He’ll forget it soon enough,” Nick said. “I’ll have to stick around to keep reminding him.”
“I imagine I could remind him,” Amy said, though the thought of Nick being around to do it held a whole lot of appeal.
“You don’t have the Santa factor on your side,” he told her.
“And you’ll look pretty strange wearing that costume in July,” she countered.
“Think I’ll be around you guys in July?” he asked.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
“You know, there’s something I forgot to ask you earlier,” he said.
“Oh?”
“What do you want for Christmas, Amy?”
She met his gaze and her heart gave a little lurch. “I have everything I need,” she told him. “My kids are safe and happy.”
“And that’s enough?”
“It is for now,” she told him, unable to tear her gaze away from the intensity and heat in his eyes.
He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips, then came back and lingered a second longer.
“Then maybe that will give you a few ot
her ideas for your list,” he said when he finally pulled away.
Oh, yeah, she thought. It most certainly did. But having X-rated ideas on Christmas Eve would shove her out of nice and straight into naughty. She wondered what Santa would have to say about that.
One glance into Nick’s mischievous eyes told her the answer to that. They were working from the very same list.
Before she could examine how she felt about that, a woman tapped Nick on the shoulder. When he turned around, his expression froze. It was exactly the look he’d had on his face earlier, when he’d dragged Amy inside that shoe store.
“Nick,” the woman said softly. “Could I please speak to you for a second?”
“Sure,” he said, but there was no mistaking his reluctance.
The woman cast an apologetic look in Amy’s direction. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is the first chance I’ve had to speak to Nick since…” Her voice caught. She shook her head. “Sorry. I still can’t talk about it.”
“It’s okay,” Nick soothed. “Really, you don’t have to say anything.”
To Amy, he sounded almost desperate, as if he were willing the woman to remain silent.
The woman drew in a deep breath. “No, it’s important. I tried to call you at the station, but they said you were on leave.”
Nick nodded.
“Because of what happened,” she guessed.
“Yes,” he said tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him. “It’s all my fault.”
Nick regarded her incredulously. “Your fault? How can you say that?”
“If I’d told you right away about my ex-husband, if I’d warned you…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe things would have gone differently.”
Nick put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “No, Mitzi, nothing that happened was your fault. If anything, it was mine. I just stood by…”
“No,” she said harshly. “That’s just it, that’s why I had to talk to you. I knew you were blaming yourself.”
“Who else should I blame?” he asked heatedly.
The woman sighed heavily. “Maybe it was no one’s fault, not even my ex-husband’s. He had to be sick, right? To think that taking our boy and hurting him would somehow make me love him again.” She shuddered. “Or even that it was a way to pay me back for leaving him. That’s not right. He needs help.”
Dashing Through the Mall: Santa, BabyAssignment HumbugDeck the Halls Page 8
