“He shouldn’t be here. He’s not one of us.”
Mom smiled sadly. “Neither was I.” She looked around the room. “This takes some getting used to, and I knew what I was getting myself into. Did Quik?”
Lux thought back to their two-hour whirlwind engagement. She rubbed her bare finger where a wedding ring should be. “Probably not.” She deflated. “Even so, he doesn’t—he isn’t—”
“What?”
“I thought he cared for me. Not Christmas or magic or all of that. Me.”
“He does.”
Lux didn’t want to argue with Mom, so she didn’t say anything.
“I’ve seen him look at you when you’re not looking. He does.”
“But he’ll leave. You watch. He’ll leave.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”
“What good does it do me if he doesn’t stay?”
“Give it some time, sweetheart.”
Time was the one thing Lux didn’t have.
Mom kissed her head and then went to the door. “I’m going back to the carnival. Would you like to come?”
Bobbing for apples and throwing beanbags didn’t sound as much fun as it had a while ago. “I don’t think so.” She took off her necklaces. “I’m going back to the workroom. Matthew is right, there’s too much to do and not enough time.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
43 Days until Christmas Eve
“Frost to Lux.”
Lux reached for the walkie-talkie. “Lux here.” Their cell phones were malfunctioning so dug out the old handhelds. Dad was working on it.
“I’ve got an issue in Letters.”
“Can it wait?” Lux spliced two wires together. “We’re in the middle of final checks here.”
“Can’t wait—Christmas is in forty-three days.”
“I’m coming.” Lux hooked the talkie on her belt. “Are you good here if I go?” Lux called to Matthew, who was on the other side of the machine. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the schematic he compared to the panel. An icy chill made the hairs on her arms stand up as the fear of losing him surfaced. She rubbed them briskly as she hurried out the door.
The hallway was warmer. Which was strange. The workroom should have been the warmest in the house. She sprinted, not wanting to waste a minute—not having one to waste even if she wanted to. She didn’t bother to knock on the door to Letters, but pushed it open. “All right, I’m here. Whoa.” She stared at Frost’s empty desk. “You’re on top of it.”
“No.” Frost’s eyes grew so wide she looked like they were under magnifying glasses. “No. I’m not on top of it. And do you want to know why?” She made her way around the desk, leaning on it for support.
Lux grew leery. “Why?”
“Because the letters aren’t coming through. Not like they normally do.” She started stomping. “We get two—maybe three bags a day. Where are the letters, Lux?”
Lux leaned over and looked under the desk.
Frost grabbed her shirt and pulled her up. “They aren’t here.” Her nostrils flared.
Ginger burst through the door. She was in full-on Mrs. Claus clothes with a red velvet skirt trimmed in white and a fitted fur-lined red jacket. “I heard you over the talkies—what’s going on?”
“There’s no mail!” Frost wailed.
“Okay. Let’s not panic.” Lux put her hands on top of Frost’s, which were still clutching her shirt. “Have you called the post offices?”
“All of them? All the post offices in the world are slow with Santa’s letters? That doesn’t happen. Something’s wrong.” Frost let her go, shaking her fingers out and hyperventilating.
“I think Lux meant the North Pole, Alaska, post office.” Ginger pulled off her black gloves. Mittens were great for fashion but made holding reins difficult; the gloves worked better for Ginger and her small hands.
North Pole, Alaska, worked as a hub for the North Pole’s mail, accepting delivery to their location. An elf would take a reindeer and the mail sleigh down and pick them up. The closer they got to Christmas, the more pickups they made per day. At this point, they should be making two trips a day.
“I went there myself. The place looked like the Grinch just cleaned it out.”
Ginger slapped her gloves into her palm. “Then you’ll have to go farther south—pick up the letters before they clog up the delivery channels.”
Frost nodded. “I can do that.” She ran to the whiteboard with a map of the world and began scribbling names. “I’ll send Mom to Europe. Robyn can go to North America. Joseph can do South America, and you and I can split the rest of the world between us.” She gathered her magical bag. “Do you think we can take all the reindeer?”
Lux sucked in air through her teeth. “You’ve got to leave the core eight. They shouldn’t be pushed beyond their regular workouts at this point.”
Ginger smiled confidently. “We’ll get it done with the middle-agers.”
Lux bristled. “Dunder can help. He’s stronger than we give him credit for.”
“He’s a grandpa.” Frost pulled a scarf out of her bag. She didn’t need it to keep warm, but if they were going in public, they had to make sure they dressed like the locals—otherwise people tended to get curious.
“A grandpa with spunk,” Lux defended her loyal friend.
“Speaking of Grandpa—should we call him in too?” Frost asked.
Ginger opened the door and waved them out. “If things don’t improve in a couple days, then yes. I’m hoping that unclogging the delivery channels will take care of the problem.”
“At this point, I’m willing to try anything.” Frost slid her hands into gloves.
“Good luck,” Lux said. They left Letters at the same time and took different directions down the hallway, Frost heading to the stables to arrange sleighs and reindeer, Ginger walking swiftly to gather the family. Lux headed back to the workstation. They were close, ever so close to being done.
A part of her didn’t want the substation done. A part of her wanted to extend the project and keep Matthew here to Christmas and beyond.
Sadly, she understood that not all Christmas wishes could come true.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
31 Days until Christmas E
Quik tugged at the green tie. Somehow, Frost had found his old dress blues and insisted he wear them to Thanksgiving dinner. The gold piping glinted in the light, and the blue braid was tight under his right arm. The shirt was pressed and smelled like starch. The smell brought back many memories of dinners, balls, and a time before Oliver was even a thought.
He’d been idealistic as a youth, believing that people were inherently good. Probably because his parents were good people—the best, really. Gail had made contact with them and assured them that Quik was healthy and alive. They went through with the military burial to maintain the illusion of his death.
“Dad?” Oliver stood in his doorway, his bow tie hanging limp over his open palm. “Do I have to wear this?”
Quik laughed. Hadn’t he asked Lux the same question on Halloween? “Sorry, lieutenant. Thanksgiving dinner is black-tie.” He squatted in front of Oliver and took the tie. Upon inspection, he discovered that it was too tight. With a little adjustment, Olivier hardly knew it was there. “You’re all set.” He got to his feet, snapped his shoes together, and saluted.
Oliver did his best to salute him back, and Quik tickled under his lifted arm, earning him a batch of giggles. Quik’s next thought had his heart pounding and his palms sweating. “Should we, uh, see if Lux is ready?”
Oliver skipped to the open door. “She already left. She said we could meet her in the dining room.”
Quik’s heart screeched to a halt before pounding once hard and painfully against his ribs to get going again. Things between them were strained. He’d apologized for the fairyland statement. She said she forgave him, but her eyes were pools of uncertainty. How he wished to wipe that uncertainty away an
d replace it with a sure knowledge and belief in him. He paused, his hand going to his heart. He wanted her to believe in him. Light and understanding filled his mind. He understood the “believe in me” pleading in her eyes. He got it.
“Wait just a minute,” he told Oliver. Dashing to his room, he grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and wrote a few lines. Then he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.
The substation was complete. They were turning it on tonight, and not a moment too soon. The mail was still slow. Grandma and Grandpa Kringle had come in last week to help with collection. But his letter to Lux would get through—he’d make sure of it.
Today was Thanksgiving, and this day was all about giving thanks. Quik was hoping to have a moment before the big party to tell Lux how grateful he was for what she did for him—for him and Oliver. He’d hoped to be friends once again, at the very least. To walk into the dining room with Lux on his arm. He missed her something terrible.
When they were together, even when they weren’t talking, he had this sense that everything flowed through the right breakers. It was warm and peaceful and comforting. When they were apart, his thoughts were on a constant loop that brought him right back to her. He had visions of flipping the switch, the substation humming to life, and sweeping Lux into his arms to finally give her the kiss he’d been dreaming about.
She’d be dressed up tonight, and he’d been looking forward to seeing her in the navy gown Frost dropped off yesterday.
“Come on, Dad.” Oliver struggled to open the apartment door.
“I’m coming.” He tugged on his black blazer and checked the hems of his blue pants to make sure they hadn’t tucked into the back of his dress shoes. “I’m ready.”
They made their way down the Hall of Santas Past and to the dining room. “I hope we aren’t the last ones,” he whispered to Oliver, who shrugged as he shoved the door open.
He’d expected to find everyone seated around the massive table and food piled from one end to the other. That would have been nice. Instead, Robyn was dabbing her eyes with a gold napkin. Gail had her arm around Robyn’s shoulder and patted her back. Frost circled the room, yelling into her walkie-talkie, “Firewood and coal—as much as you can get in the big sleigh. Hurry!”
Harvey was in and out of the kitchen with dishes. Stella and Layla gathered plates and put them in the China cabinet on the east wall. Grandpa and Grandma blew out candles on the massive centerpiece.
“Did we miss dinner?” Quik asked Ginger, who was holding her stomach and turning green. That would be just great. Nothing says “I’m thankful for your hospitality” like skipping the meal.
“There is no dinner.” Ginger had a cloth napkin spread out and was writing down notes as fast as she could.
“But I’m hungry.” Oliver tugged on Quik’s jacket.
Quik snagged an apple off the centerpiece, verified that it wasn’t made of wax, and handed it to the kid. “Eat this.” He leaned to see over Ginger’s shoulder.
Emergency Procedures
Wood for Candy Ovens
Generators for toy-making machines.
Lights for wrapping room (no candles!)
The one person he wanted to see wasn’t even here, and her family had gone nuts. “Where’s Lux?” he yelled over the din.
Harvey dropped a vat of pudding on the table. “She’s not here?” He looked everywhere, even under the table. “She’s gone to start the substation!” He bolted for the door.
Quik grabbed Oliver’s arm. “Stay with Stella. Okay?”
Oliver nodded, his hair bouncing on his forehead.
Quik was right behind Harvey, running down the hallway. “What is going on?”
“The ovens went out.”
“They broke?”
“No, they went out. All of them. Like the phones.”
“Tannenbaum!” Quik Christmas cursed.
Harvey let out one quick Ho. “That’s what I like to hear.” He huffed. “Is the station even ready?”
“Yeah,” Quik replied as he pulled ahead of the old man. “We were going to announce it over dinner. At least, that’s what Lux said she wanted to do.” He pushed harder, putting more distance between him and Harvey. “If anything goes wrong …” I’ll never forgive myself.
He sprang through the door in time to see Lux, in a stunning navy gown that fit every part of her just right, throw the switch. The switch clicked. Quik froze in place, his arms out to the side. His breaths were loud, echoing off the ice.
Nothing happened.
Lux stepped back and back and back to take in the whole machine.
Quik slowly straightened.
Harvey barreled into the back of him, and Quik stumbled forward. “We made it.” Harvey blew out a peppermint breath.
Quik put his hands on his knees. “She already turned it on.”
“Why isn’t it working?”
“I don’t know.”
Lux hurried over. Her glasses had been shoved into her hair like a headband. Tendrils of red framed her face. The dark blue dress was a beautiful contrast to her creamy skin. Quik fisted his hands to keep from trailing his finger up her arm. “We’ll need to shut it down and run a full diagnostic.”
Quik shook his head. “That could take three weeks.”
“It’s Thanksgiving!” bellowed Harvey.
Lux chewed her thumbnail. “Thirty-one days until Christmas Eve.”
“That’s cutting it awfully close, Lux.” Harvey pulled on his fluffy white beard. That thing was seriously impressive. Quik had shaved his face bare. Wearing the uniform didn’t feel right with a beard. His hair was too long for military standards, but there hadn’t been much time to get a haircut.
Quik threw his shoulders back. “We can do it, sir.”
Lux’s hand fell away from her lips, and her eyes traveled over his uniform. He’d endured some intense inspections during his enlistment, but nothing that made him feel as hot under the collar as the look of appreciation in her eyes.
Harvey’s bushy eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “Why do I like you right now?” he asked.
Quik quickly checked his grin. “It must be the uniform, sir.”
“Perhaps.” He twitched his nose.
“We’ll get started on this right away.”
“See that you do.” Harvey spun on his heel. “I’ll have Gail bring in some turkey sandwiches, and Oliver can spend the night with us.”
Quik saluted. As soon as the door closed behind him, the air in the room crackled. Lux sucked in and hurried over to turn off the machine. Her delicate but oh-so-shapely shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, Quik.”
“Sorry?”
“It should have worked. Tonight was supposed to be your last night here. You were going to be free.”
“Free? Lux, I’m here by choice.”
“I heard. Thanks for volunteering to stick around and figure this out.” She gave him a tentative smile.
“Of course.”
Robyn bounded in with a picnic basket over one arm. “Here. This is the best I could do.” She set the basket by the door, brushed her hands, and left.
“So you want to eat something before we get started?”
She nodded. They took the basket to the middle of the room, setting up the picnic between the substation parts. Quik spread the blanket and Lux settled, her dress billowing out around her.
“You look like a cupcake.”
She paused with her hand in the basket. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”
He laughed and unbuttoned his jacket. “You’re all fluffy—like frosting.” He patted the fabric and it slipped and slid against his palm, triggering a memory of his hands buried in her hair while they kissed in front of a Christmas tree. He’d convinced himself that was a dream, but it came back as forceful as the memory of what he had for breakfast. Only this memory was much sweeter than Lucky Charms and way more satisfying.
Lux rubbed her forehead. “Quik, I’m so confused. What do you
want?”
He tipped his head back, taking in the massive machine. “I want this substation to work. I’m thrilled with the adjustments we’ve made to the original design. Christmas Magic is unlike any power source on earth. Everything we do here is groundbreaking. The science is so cool.”
Lux smiled wide, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Choosing to put off her question, he said, “This is nice.”
“Do you picnic in substations often?”
“Never. This is a first.” He smiled softly. “I wasn’t talking about the picnic, Lux. It’s nice to talk to you. Without the stress. I’ve missed this.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap, her cheeks lifted in a tentative smile.
“I think you’re rubbing off on me—I said my first Christmas swear today.”
Her chin came up. “What was it?”
“Tannenbaum.”
“Nice.” She nodded her head appreciatively. Lux continued to nibble at her sandwich. “We should be running around like elves on Christmas Eve to get this done, but I don’t want to.” She folded the top over her sandwich bag and tossed it into the basket. “I don’t want you and Oliver to leave.”
Quik’s heart pounded like a pogo stick. “We don’t want to go.”
“Ever?” she whispered.
“Never. Please, Lux. Please don’t mistake my discipline for distance. You love me.” One side of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re cute when you’re confused.” He used his hand to trace her cheek.
Lux’s whole body flushed, he could see the pink on her shoulders.
“You must love me if we spark like this.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t you?”
Lux bit her lip. “You have to believe, Quik.”
He pulled just far enough away that she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Lux, if you love me, I believe in us. I believe we can be a family. I believe we can make the world better with our love.” He reached into his pocket for the letter he’d dashed off and handed it over.
Marrying Miss Kringle: Lux Page 18
