by Anthology
She tried to open her locker, but the door stuck. Just my luck. Jiggling the handle again, she couldn’t get it to budge. “Stupid door.”
Drawing back her foot, she let loose and kicked the door. “Ow, ow, ow! That hurt.” Holding her painful foot off the ground, she hopped around on the other foot.
“I don’t imagine the door is very appreciative either,” a voice said behind her.
Samantha groaned. She recognized that voice. Had listened to it every day for a week in the ridiculous elf sessions he’d made her take. As if she couldn’t have figured out she needed to smile and talk sweetly to the children.
Bracing her shoulders, she turned to face—him. “It’s been a long day and I want to go home. I work at an old age home during the day and have to be there early tomorrow. ”
A smile pursed his lips as he moved to her locker, lifted the handle and easily opened the door. He chided, “Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, ‘you can catch more flies with honey?’ Clearly the same applies to temperamental lockers.”
He turned and walked to the far side of the room, spoke with someone else.
Why was he always walking around the store? Why didn’t he just stay upstairs in his office? Samantha had the overwhelming urge to kick him in his oh-so-fine backside just like she had the door.
~*~
Greg parked his car in the garage and opened the door to his kitchen. “I’m home! Where is everyone?”
His housekeeper, Mrs. Watson, came around the corner from the living room. “We’re right here. Missy wanted to play a game of Snakes and Ladders, so we’ve been down on the floor.” She turned to smile at the small girl trailing slowly behind her. “Have to admit she’s a good player. Beat me three games in a row.”
Greg picked his daughter up and twirled her around. “You did? It’s a good thing I wasn’t here. You would have trounced me.” He smiled when her eyes lit with joy.
“It was easy, Daddy. Mrs. Watson isn’t a very good player. She kept moving the wrong way.”
Setting her back on the floor, Greg riffled her long black hair, so like his own. Then again, Missy was the spitting image of him. He was glad. Didn’t know what he would have done if she’d looked like her mother. Or should he say the woman who gave birth to her? She’d certainly been no mother.
He wished there was someone in his life that could spend time with Missy. His housekeeper was wonderful, but Missy needed someone besides himself to do things with. Someone younger than Mrs. Watson. To spend time away from home and the doctors’ offices.
Some day his daughter would be free from the pain she was in now from when she’d broken her leg. He didn’t doubt it—much. No, I can’t think like that. Melissa’s leg will heal. It won’t always hurt when she walks. She’ll grow up and be a beautiful young woman. Help people who are less fortunate than she is. Maybe help elderly people.
Where had that thought come from? Oh, he knew exactly why he’d thought it. Knew the woman he’d thought about all the way home.
He’d read on her application that she worked with the elderly. He thought that a strange vocation for a woman so young, so vibrant. He couldn’t picture someone her age wanting to spend time with old people. Most without families wound up living in public institutions, ineligible for Old Age Assistance. That someone as beautiful as his elf wanted to be with them fascinated him. She fascinated him.
Stop it! She’s just an employee.
As he walked Mrs. Watson to the door to tell her good-night, Greg acknowledged it was a lie. He wanted Samantha Noelle to be a whole lot more.
~*~
Every day for the next week Greg watched the clock waiting for his little elf to arrive at work. His elf? What was he thinking?
And every day she arrived on time, put on that ridiculous elf costume and went out to interact with the children. And with Santa.
The two clearly had bonded with each other. Become fast friends. For the first time in his life, Greg felt jealous. How he’d love to have her feel that way about him.
He’d watched the elderly man—Santa—as he worked with other employees throughout the day. They were pleasant, but his face came alive when Samantha arrived. Although he seemed like a nice man all the time, she brought out the best in him.
Greg imagined she could bring out the best in anyone.
He’d actually checked her references today—something he should have done before she’d started. They’d all been glowing.
Miss Noelle seemed perfect. But everyone had a flaw. He’d learned that quickly enough with Amanda. He’d thought his wife perfect. In a way, she had been—perfectly groomed, perfect manners, perfect face and body.
And shallow.
Miss Samantha Noelle was probably no better. Part of him believed it to be true. The other part wanted him to be wrong. He wanted her to be different. Needed her to be different. He knew from her application that she had no close family. She’d listed only one cousin in Chicago.
Could it be Miss Noelle was as lonely as he?
~*~
The following evening Greg entered the crowded cafeteria. He got his grilled cheese sandwich and started to take his food back to his office, but stopped when he spotted Samantha sitting alone.
Mustering his courage, he approached her table and set his tray down. “Hope you don’t mind if I join you. Room’s pretty crowded today.”
He pulled a chair out and sat before she could tell him no.
She quickly wiped her lips with her napkin. Started to edge her chair back. “I was almost through anyway. You can have the table. I might run down to Grant’s to see if they have any knitting supplies in their yarn department. I promised one of the elderly ladies I’d pick some up for her.”
“Stay where you are, Miss Noelle,” he ordered. “You weren’t finished eating. If you find me that offensive, I’ll leave.” Greg stood, picked up his sandwich and drink and turned to the door.
A hand on his arm stopped him before he reached it.
“Mr. Giovanni, please don’t leave. I’m sorry. I was rude. It’s just that you make me feel...”
“Uncomfortable?” he finished for her. At her nod, he added, “I tend to do that with most people. Guess it goes with my position.”
She continued to watch him, but said nothing. Her hand remained on his arm. The sensation of warmth seeped through his shirtsleeve, permeated his body, shot straight to his groin. Melted some of the ice around his heart.
“Please stay, Mr. Giovanni. Eat your sandwich before it grows cold.”
Greg glanced down at his plate. He’d forgotten all about the grilled cheese. Cared less about it. He wasn’t hungry for food. He wanted something much more elementary—companionship. Someone to spend time with, to talk with. He wanted it to be with Miss Noelle.
Placing his hand at the small of her back, he ushered her toward the table. After seating her, he drew out his own chair again and sat.
They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes until Greg could stand it no more. “Tell me about yourself, Miss Noelle. Why did you take this job?”
She looked surprised. “You already know why. Monique broke her leg.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t explain why you took over for her. We had dozens of applicants for the position. I could have filled it with one of them.”
Those brandy colored eyes met his. “I’ve wondered about that. Why did you hire me when other people had applied before me?”
Damn! He’d walked right into that.
“Just seemed the thing to do since your friend recommended you so highly.” And because I wanted to drag you home and make love to you. See your long hair spread over my pillow, see your naked body writhing under mine.
No, it wouldn’t do to tell her that last part.
“Hmmm.” Her eyes told him she didn’t believe that.
“But you didn’t answer my question. Why did you take this job?”
She smiled. “That’s easy. I need the money.”
�
��Your application said you already have a job. Something about elderly people.”
Samantha chuckled. “I do. But I need a deposit for an apartment. I’ve been staying at a friend’s house for the past year, but she’s being transferred home because of the war. I have less than a month to find a place of my own.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “I thought it would be easy, but I’ve been looking for the past week and haven’t found anything I can afford.”
He quirked a brow. “Haven’t saved any money from your other job? Too busy partying and spending it on clothes?”
She looked insulted.
“I don’t party, Mr. Giovanni, although I do attend USO dances now and again. And although I like to look nice, no, I don’t waste my money on clothes. I can barely afford the material to make them, let alone buy them ready-made. With the war on, stores like this are only for the wealthy.” She threw her napkin onto her plate. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
“You still have twenty minutes before you have to leave, Miss Noelle.” Her look told him he’d surprised her. “I saw you walking down the stairs from the toy department on your way to the cafeteria. Unlike someone else I know, I pay attention to my surroundings.”
“Oh, I—” She looked flustered. He hadn’t meant to upset her, just tease her about walking into him.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Samantha. I apologize. It’s just that I’m used to women that—”
“Let you down?”
He said nothing.
“She must have hurt you badly for you to be so bitter. You’re too young to have built such a wall around yourself.”
A small gasp escaped her lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. That was rude of me. Please forgive me.”
He waved her remarks aside.
“Young? I’m hardly a child, Samantha. I’m thirty-five.”
“Ah, almost ready for a walker.” She smiled and placed her hand over his on the table. Her touch was light. Her warmth sent heat through his reserves, filling the emptiness within him.
“Yet you’re hurting like a child. It shows in your eyes.”
Greg shifted in his chair. He didn’t want to talk about himself. Didn’t want to think about his ex-wife.
“Again, please forgive me for intruding on your privacy.”
“You must not make much at your day job if you need to take another job.”
Samantha shook her head. “Changing the subject, I see. That’s fine. You don’t have to talk about it with me.” She stopped and pursed her lips, clearly thinking. “Why don’t I have any money? With the war going on, few people have money. However, I use what little I have to help senior citizens. I told you before that I help at old age homes. I do simple things for them to let them feel independent. I often run errands. I promised a few ladies I’d pick up some trinkets and some knitting materials for them. They can’t get out to shop, but they wanted to buy a few simple Christmas presents.” She ran her tongue over her lips before continuing. “They have very little money, less than most of us. The majority of what they have—including their ration coupons—goes to pay for them to stay in the nursing home. And those in public facilities have even less. So I buy them little things. They don’t know it, of course. They’d never let me do it if they did. I just let them think the homes cover their expenses.”
Greg frowned. “You use your own money?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“My grandfather lived with us when I was a child. We did everything together. He was my best friend. But he’d had a rough life. My grandmother died from cancer and he never recovered from that. They’d thought she was pregnant with her second child; instead she had a tumor. He became an alcoholic, and that took a toll on his body. When we could no longer keep him at home, I visited him every week. Watched him decline—physically and mentally. Watched the people who lived in the home do with very little. I vowed then to make a difference. To try and help people forced into that predicament.”
As she’d done for him earlier, he reached out and covered her hand with his.
Who was this woman who wanted to make a difference in the world? Was she real? Or was this all an act? Maybe she’d found out who he really was and hoped to get his money.
Slowly moving her hand from beneath his, Samantha moved her chair back and rose. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get back to work.” She picked up her tray and turned to leave. Glancing over her shoulder, she impishly called back, “Wouldn’t want my boss to think I was taking a longer dinner break than allowed.”
No, she didn’t know who he was. He was sure of it.
~*~
Greg walked slowly to his office the next afternoon, holding his young daughter’s hand within his own. He’d taken Missy to the specialist that morning. How dare the doctor suggest his daughter could walk if she wanted to? Evidently the man was a moron! Didn’t he realize how much it hurt her to take more than a few steps? Didn’t he care?
Well Greg did, and no one would hurt his daughter! It was bad enough her mother had walked out on her. He’d never let anyone hurt her again.
Before heading home for the day, he had some things he needed to address in the office. Missy would be fine in the adjoining room while he worked. She stayed there often when his housekeeper was unavailable. She had strict orders never to leave the room. He’d stocked it with toys and books for her in the past so she could stay there after her numerous appointments.
Finding the room empty thirty minutes later, he panicked. Melissa had never left the room before. She knew not to. Merciful Mary, has someone kidnapped her?
Frantic with worry, Greg dashed out of his office, ran through Nickel’s, then ran down the sidewalk in front of the shopping center looking for her. He looked in every store, every restaurant. No Missy.
Almost ready to head to his office to contact the police, Greg hurried back into Nickel’s to recheck every department. Strains of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas played throughout the store. Greg could have cared less about a white Christmas. All he wanted was to find Missy. Heading upstairs to the Christmas Wonderland display, he barely spared a glance for Santa and the beautiful elf. Except the elf wasn’t there. Parents and children were lined up waiting to see Santa, but there was no elf to direct them.
His eyes scanned the area. What did it matter that she wasn’t there? He was worried about his daughter. Yet an inner sense made him slow down and search the nearby surroundings.
Children were seated on the floor, watching cartoons in the children’s play area he’d set up to keep them occupied while their parents shopped. His breath caught when he saw the green elf costume surrounded by children. Her head was bent low, talking to a beautiful little girl. A girl with black hair. His daughter.
Greg thought his knees would buckle. She was safe. His daughter was safe. Forcing himself to walk slowly to the play area, he stood behind them.
“Miss Noelle, Melissa, is everything all right?”
Samantha’s head jerked up, her eyes seeking his. “You know her?”
“Yes, she’s my—”
“Daddy!” Melissa scrambled up off the floor. She dragged her right leg as she moved toward him.
Greg lifted her into his arms. His eyes searched her to assure himself she was fine, then turned to Samantha.
“How did—”
Eyes bright with excitement, again Melissa interrupted. “Daddy, did you see? Santa’s over there.” She pointed back to the Christmas Wonderland area. “I heard your sec-tary talking about him, so I had to come see. I haven’t been able to see him yet, ‘cause my leg hurt too bad when I stood in line. And his elf helped me over here to sit when I started crying.”
A wide smile crossed Missy’s face as she looked at Samantha. “She’s so nice, Daddy. Her name’s Sam, and she’s been talking to me for such a long time. Can you marry her, Daddy? Santa won’t mind if she stays with us instead of with him.”
Greg was
sure his eyes were as wide as Samantha’s at his daughter’s exclamation. Where had she come up with an idea like that?
“M-Missy, I’m afraid Miss Noelle has to stay here with Santa. He...he...” Greg couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Samantha came to his rescue. “I have to stay here, Missy. What if another little girl needs help and I’m not here to take care of her?”
Pouting, Missy’s lower lip pouched out. “I don’t care. I saw you first.”
Samantha laughed. “Sweetheart, Santa needs me. I have to stay here until he leaves.”
“Do you have to go home with him?”
“No, I go to my own house at night and he goes home to Mrs. Claus.”
Missy brightened. “Good, then you can have supper with me and Daddy. He’s making pasghetti tonight. Usually Mrs. Watson gets the noodles at the general store, but my grandma made these for us. Sometimes when I’m over at her house she lets me help.”
Greg groaned and interrupted her monologue. “Melissa, I’m sure Miss Noelle has far more important things to do tonight than have dinner with us.”
Missy shook her head, her black hair swinging from side to side. “No she doesn’t, Daddy. She told me earlier she doesn’t have nuffin’ to do tonight. Didn’t you, Sam?”
Looking guilty, Samantha nodded. “Well, yes, but—”
“Puh-leeeeeeze!”
Greg wished a hole would open up and he could drop into it. How could he politely get out of this? This young woman wouldn’t want to spend dinner with him and his daughter. She’d barely wanted to share a table with him yesterday. Besides, she probably had a boyfriend waiting to take her out when she left work.
“Miss Noelle, I’m sure you have other plans, but if you don’t...”
The smile that lit her face warmed his heart. “Actually, I was going to make myself a sandwich and read a good book.” She blushed when she added, “Romances are my favorite.”
“See, Daddy. I told you.” His daughter looked triumphant.
Why did the thought she didn’t have a date so please him?
~*~
Missy held Samantha’s hand as she proudly showed her the Christmas tree. “Isn’t it beeeeeautiful, Sam? Daddy and I put it up last week. And I helped decorate. Didn’t I do a good job?” She looked up to wait for Sam’s answer. At the nod, she added, “But I couldn’t reach up high. Daddy had to put the angel on top. And he gave me a job ‘cause I’m a big girl. He says I have to help him water it every day.” She pulled Sam closer. “Look at the ornaments we got this year, Sam. One for me and one for Daddy. Mine’s red and his is blue. Look really, really close. You can see right through them. And look at the top. Daddy said they had to use paper ‘cause of the war. They can’t get silver something or other. Daddy said they’re red, white and blue because we’re pate-tic.”
