The Santa Suit (Holiday Homecoming #4)

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “No, we won’t,” Andy was quick to assure her. “We won’t be disappointed, Mom, I promise.”

  “Gabe won’t take us to see a fake Santa ‘cause we gave him all our money to find the real one.” Abby’s smile was beautiful to behold, and Katherine was glad to see that Gabe got the full impact of it. He shifted under the deluge of childish trust, and Katherine began to feel better about the change in her plans. Why not let him take the twins to see good old Santa Claus? Let him find out for himself that it didn’t pay to take money from children on the pretext that he could deliver magic. And she’d go along, just to watch him squirm.

  “All right, then,” she said, dazzling Gabe with a smile of her own. “Macy’s, it is.”

  The response was deafening, as the children bounced around the room like grasshoppers in homemade helmets. “Macy’s! Macy’s!” they chanted. “We get to go to Macy’s!”

  Gabe watched them with a smile that Katherine thought looked the tiniest bit apprehensive. She wanted to lean close to his ear and whisper, “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” But, like the twins, he needed to find out some things for himself.

  Chapter Four

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Again?” Gabe looked suspiciously at the freckled face looking up at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course he’s sure.” Katherine’s voice added a certain snap to the confirmation, and the way she grabbed Andy’s hand left no doubt that she believed her son…or that she was grasping at any opportunity to get out of the line of children and parents who were waiting to see Santa Claus. From where he stood on Macy’s Bridge to Santa’s House, Gabe couldn’t see anything except harried parents, tired children, and an occasional glimpse of a cheerful Macy’s employee dressed in an elf suit. “I’ll take him this time,” Katherine said, her tone brooking no argument. “Do you have to go, Abby?”

  “Nope.” Abby’s feet swung in loose circles while she hung over the wooden railing like limp spaghetti. “I don’t need to go.”

  “You can’t take me, Mom.” Andy informed her importantly. “Because I have to go to the guys’ bathroom, not the girls’ bathroom.”

  “I’ve been taking you to the ladies’ bathroom ever since you were born and you never complained before.”

  “But, Mom, I’m not a lady, and it’s embracing to go in there.”

  Katherine frowned. “Embarrassing?”

  “Yeah.” Andy nodded vigorously. “That. And Gabe can take me to the guys’ bathroom, Mom, ‘cause he’s a guy, and he doesn’t mind, do ya, Gabe?”

  With a sigh, Katherine lifted her gray eyes imploringly to Gabe’s. “I don’t suppose you’d—”

  “Mind?” Gabe supplied, knowing that wasn’t what she’d been about to say at all. She’d been about to ask him if he’d please take them all out of this line, off the Bridge to Santa’s House and away from the cacophony of kids crying, whining, stomping, and making every other kind of noise known to kidkind. If he’d been in her place, that was certainly what he would have asked…and long before now, too. “Of course I don’t mind taking him to the guys’ bathroom,” he said magnanimously. “I think there’s plenty of time to go and get back before it’s our turn to see Santa.”

  Her gaze trailed to the brick chimney that, from where they stood, was all that could be seen of Santa’s House. “Plenty of time,” she repeated dismally.

  Gabe took Andy’s hand. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go.”

  He could feel the heat of Katherine’s resentful gaze on the back of his neck as he excused his and Andy’s way to the end of the line, and momentary freedom. “I did it real good that time, didn’t I, Gabe?” Andy’s gap-toothed grin flashed satisfaction. “I said it just like you told me, didn’t I? Mom never even figured it out I was just p’tending I needed to go to the bathroom.” He gave a little skip. “Can we get another hot chocolate?”

  “Any more hot chocolate and you will need a bathroom.” Gabe held on to Andy’s hand protectively as they escaped the section of the eighth floor that housed Santa’s House. Okay, so it was a cheap trick, but he clearly wasn’t cut out for this Christmas ritual of waiting to see Santa Claus. Even if it had been his idea. Even if he’d insisted on coming.

  He’d thought Katherine seemed oddly congenial, if not a little smug, when they all left her apartment nearly…he checked his watch…three hours ago. She wasn’t feeling particularly congenial anymore. She was tired, cranky, and nearly as sick of the whole idea as he was himself. He did feel guilty for leaving her behind to wait with Abby…again. But when a boy had to go, he had to go. And right now, he and Andy had to go somewhere away from that line of people.

  It wasn’t as if Katherine hadn’t gotten to step out of line a couple of times, herself. Once when Abby decided to skip all the turns and switchbacks in the bridge to Santa’s House and go directly to the front of the line. And once more, when the twins slipped under the railing and helped themselves to some toys in the Elves’ Workshop display.

  If he’d had any idea they wouldn’t be able to walk right up, sit on Santa’s lap and ask for a gazillion toys, he never would have suggested the visit. Although he had to admit that watching Katherine had made the wait almost bearable. Balancing the cool responses she made to his attempts at conversation against the not-at-all-cool blushes that randomly invaded her cheeks had provided a world of intrigue in itself. Trying to catch the tail end of a fleeting déjà vu and figuring out why, at moments, she seemed so damned familiar had occupied a good chunk of his attention, as well.

  But after standing next to her for the better part of the afternoon, he found her more of a mystery than before. She had made no secret of her impatience with the whole Santa setup at Macy’s, but she’d demonstrated tremendous patience with the twins during the wait. Gabe admired her for letting her kids discover their own truths, despite her personal distaste for this particular quest. And while she might not be crazy about having him around, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because, whatever their reasons, her children liked him.

  “I got an idea, Gabe.” Andy tugged on his hand. “We can do our Christmas shopping.”

  “What?” Gabe asked in pretended alarm. “Do my shopping before Christmas Eve? You can’t be serious.”

  “I am,” Andy assured him with very serious blue eyes. “Come on. I’ll buy somethin’ for you and you can buy somethin’ for me.”

  “But then you won’t be surprised when you open the present on Christmas,” said Gabe, who until that moment had had no thought of buying presents for anyone other than Gun and Louisa.

  “Yes, I will.” Andy pulled him toward the action-adventure toys, which were conveniently displayed at child’s-eye-level near the center aisle. “I’ll be s’prised ‘cause that present will be a secret. This present won’t. It’ll be ‘cause I’ve been so good at waitin’ to see Santa Claus.”

  There might have been the threat of blackmail in that statement, but Gabe opted to believe it was just innocent excitement. Which had to be the reason he allowed himself to be pulled down the aisle toward Jet Jupiter’s assorted accessories…wondering all the way why he’d never known before how persuasive little boys could be.

  KATHERINE HADN’T BEEN quite eight years old the last time she’d stepped through the Thirty-fourth Street entrance and into the mercantile world of Macy’s department store. It had seemed bigger back then, and so glamorous that she hadn’t been able to contain her excitement. Her mother had practically had to drag her through the aisles and up the escalators, warning her not to dawdle and scolding her for not watching where she was going. Which seemed odd, because she could remember distinctly trying to look everywhere, see everything, and absorb the experience that was Macy’s at Christmastime. Funny. She hadn’t thought about that in years. But then, she hadn’t been in Macy’s in years, either. Small wonder, then, to find the memories returning with her.

  “How much longer till we see Santa Claus?” Abby asked, her voice growing perceptibly
more impatient.

  “Santa Claus?” Katherine lowered her eyebrows in a perplexed frown. “Do you mean, how much longer until we see the man the store hired to put on a costume and ask children what they want for Christmas?”

  “Mommmmm…” Abby drew the single syllable into a long humming whine. “You promised you wouldn’t say stuff like that today, ’member?”

  “If I’d known this excursion was going to take all afternoon, I wouldn’t have promised anything of the sort,” she said. “And, frankly, after standing in this line for this long, I think I deserve to feel just a little out of sorts, don’t you?”

  “You shoulda stayed at home. Then me and Andy and Gabe coulda had fun.” Abby kicked the rail support a couple of times, making a dull thudding noise. “I shoulda gone to the bathroom with them.”

  Me too, Katherine thought, wishing she could be anywhere but here. “They should be back any minute, now. Then you and I can go.”

  Abby offered a skeptical glance. “I don’t want to go until I’ve seen Santa Claus.”

  “We’ll be back before it’s your turn.”

  “No, we won’t. You won’t bring me back in time to see him.”

  “Of course I will, Abby. Why would you think that I wouldn’t?”

  “’Cause you don’t like Santa Claus and you don’t like Gabe and you don’t want me to like them, neither.”

  “Either. And that isn’t true.” The denial lacked conviction, though, and Katherine tried harder. “Well, okay, I don’t like this Santa stuff, and I’m not as charmed by Gabe as you and Andy are, but I don’t dislike him.”

  “Yes, you do,” Abby said, with a few more wellaimed kicks at the support. “I think he’s funny, but you don’t. You don’t laugh at his jokes.”

  Katherine racked her brain to recall any humor in this long afternoon, but the only joke she could appreciate was the one on her…the one in which she’d agreed to this entire ill-fated trip. Well, she had a few choice words for the man in the Santa suit—if she ever saw him. And a few more for Gabe Housley…when he finally returned with her son.

  The thought had barely skated past when she heard his voice behind her in line, recognizable over all the other voices around her. “Excuse us,” he was saying, his tone one of pleasant confidence that he wasn’t, really, inconveniencing anyone. “Thank you. Sorry. Excuse the kid, please. He’s a little excited. Too much hot chocolate. Excuse me. Sorry.”

  A pause, then Andy’s voice above the rest, “Hey, there’s Mom. We’re back, Mom! Abby! Hey, Abby! Look at the cool present Gabe bought me!”

  Katherine’s head turned nearly as fast as Abby’s did. Present? she thought. Did the man have no sense whatsoever?

  “Present?” Abby echoed aloud. “Andy got a present?”

  Then the guys were back, all smiles and relaxed good humor. Andy, full of importance, showed Abby his toy. “Don’t touch it,” he warned.

  “Did you miss us?” Gabe asked Katherine.

  “You bet. Abby and I were just talking about how dull the last hour has been without you.”

  “As opposed to the lively hour before that?” His lips formed that irritating half smile. “And we weren’t gone an hour. Forty-five minutes, maybe. Forty-six, tops. This is Christmas, you know. The store’s crowded. Besides, it’s your turn, now. You and Abby can stretch your legs and do a little shopping, if you want, while Andy and I hold our place in line.”

  “Believe it or not, I don’t think we have time to go and get back. The line actually seems to be moving.”

  He craned his neck to see over the tops of several dozen heads in front of them. “By golly, I think you’re right. There may actually be a Santa Claus at the end of this line.”

  “For your sake, I hope so. He’d better be the one-and-only real Santa, too, because otherwise you’re going to have a mutiny on your hands.”

  “You’re counting on that, aren’t you, Kate? Don’t bother to deny it. I hear that smug confidence in your voice. But everyone knows the real Santa Claus can be found at Macy’s and, in a few minutes, when you see old Kris Kringle work his magic on the twins, you’re going to be sorry you doubted me.”

  “Really? Well, to be honest, I find your faith in Macy’s rather touching. Naive, but touching. However, I think you have bigger problems.”

  “What? You’re not going to stand there and tell me you think I can’t find the Easter Bunny at Bloomingdale’s, are you?”

  She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “No, this problem is a little more immediate. It’s Abby.”

  “Abby?” he repeated, his gaze dropping to her bent red head. “She seems fine to me. She hasn’t changed her mind about wanting to see Santa, has she?”

  “I don’t think so, but you’re going to find out right about…” Katherine paused, waiting for the telltale signs of impending disaster.

  “Don’t touch it, Abby.” Andy jerked the toy out of his sister’s reach. “Gabe bought it for me.”

  “…now.” Katherine concluded, just as Abby turned angry blue eyes upward, looking to the adults for justice.

  “Andy won’t share.” Each word held its own world of outrage, but the complaint was quickly followed by a cagey and somewhat winsome batting of the eyelashes. “Did you get me a present, Gabe?”

  Katherine knew it was her duty to jump right in—Mother Manners to the rescue—and remind Abby that it was impolite to ask for gifts. But noting how startled, chagrined and helpless Gabe looked, she decided a mother couldn’t be expected to correct every single etiquette violation.

  Gabe turned to Katherine, clearly hoping for assistance. “I thought I’d take her to the toy department after we’ve seen Santa Claus.”

  Katherine couldn’t keep amusement from lending a curve to her lips. “Well,” she said, “think again.”

  Abby put one hand on her hip. “You did bring me a present, didn’t you, Gabe?”

  He stooped to her level to facilitate an explanation, a move Katherine deemed thoughtful, but not childproof. “No, Abby,” he said. “I figured you’d want to pick it out yourself.”

  “I do,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “We can’t go now,” Gabe explained. “We wouldn’t get back in time to see Santa Claus.”

  With a glance at the long line, which extended as far as she could see, Abby assessed the possibility and made her choice in the blink of an eye. “I don’t want to see Santa: I want to go get a toy.”

  Gabe reasoned with her. “But we’ve waited all this time just to see Santa.”

  “I want to go get my toy.”

  The quirk on his lips became a little less smile and a little more frown. “If we get out of line now, Abby, we won’t get to see Santa. We’ll miss our turn.”

  “I don’t care.” She crossed her arms, obstinacy anchored in every move she made. “He’s not the real Santa Claus, anyway.”

  That’s my girl, Katherine thought, her own gaze shifting to Gabe to gauge his reaction.

  “He might be,” Gabe countered a bit tersely. “And if we get out of line now, we’ll never know.”

  “I’m not gettin’ out of line.” Andy upped the pressure with his unsolicited opinion. “I’m gonna see Santa Claus.”

  “We’re all going to see Santa.” Gabe straightened, lending authority to his statement. “First we’ll see Santa and tell him what we want for Christmas, then we’ll do some more shopping.”

  Abby’s pout was a work of art. The tears welling in her eyes were shining stars of accusation. The trembling of her lower lip was poetry in motion. Her half sniffle, half sigh was a masterpiece of manipulation. Katherine had a low tolerance for pouting, but she was never unmoved by Abby’s mastery of it. And she knew without looking at him that Gabe would crumble before it like the walls of Jericho in the wake of Joshua’s trumpet. He would buckle and take Abby to the toy department, leaving Katherine to shepherd Andy through Santa’s House—something she wanted to do almost as badly as she wanted to get a nose ring. Then, afterward, Andy
would tell Abby how cool Santa had been and how she should have been there to tell him all the toys she wanted for Christmas, which meant Abby would demand they get back in line, so she, too, could have the wondrous experience. Andy would pout if they did. Abby would pout if they didn’t, and Katherine would end up being the mean old mother, no matter how soon she managed to intervene and settle the question. The scenario was as clear as glass in her mind; and she wished Gabe could do something to prevent it…which was only slightly less likely than her being able to do so.

  But, to her surprise, Gabe took one good look at the da Vinci of pouters and stooped to Abby’s level once more. “Excuse me, Miss Harmon,” he said. “But there’s something on your nose.”

  Abby sniffed. “What?”

  “A freckle named Frances.”

  She blinked. “There is not.”

  “I don’t like to contradict a lady, but there most certainly is.” He tapped the side of her nose. “It’s definitely Frances, the fretful freckle. I haven’t seen another freckle like it since my cousin sneezed so hard, he blew Frances right off his nose.”

  The shimmer of tears was history, the trembling lip naught but a memory, the toy controversy temporarily on hold. “That’s silly. You can’t sneeze off a freckle.”

  “I can,” Andy announced, and demonstrated with several exaggerated snorts. “There. Did I do it, Gabe? Look at my nose.”

  “He’s lookin’ at my nose.” Abby elbowed Andy to keep him from stepping into her spotlight. “Go play with your stupid Jet Jupiter rocket ship.”

  Katherine looked on in awe and annoyance. She never could think fast enough to divert Abby’s pout or Andy’s charge-ahead stubbornness. But Gabe, a virtual stranger, had seemed to do it effortlessly, averting a scene and sidetracking a battle of wills. Not only that, he was getting what he wanted…peace while they finished waiting to see Santa. She didn’t understand it, and although she knew she probably ought to be grateful, she wasn’t