by Judy Kentrus
It was when he got to the toy department that the bottom fell out. The sales personnel wore colorful red and green smocks over their street clothes and the shelves were well-stocked with the latest toys, games, and electronics. The ‘Visit the North Pole’ area was ready for the children to visit the jolly old elf. He looked around a little more and was troubled when he didn’t see any of the large promotion signs advertising the new “Santa Traditions” event starting the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Every store had been instructed to set up a room off the toy area to hold the craft classes and storytelling.
He debated inquiring about the promotion, but paused when he heard a small voice ask, “Momma, what does that sign say?”
The little girl was pointing at a door at the end of a short hallway that had been painted with red and green stripes. The top sign read “Santa’s Workshop.” Someone had pasted a “Closed” banner over the words. A second sign read “Santa Traditions” and bore a banner that read “Cancelled.”
His temper shot through the ceiling and his hands tightened into fists.
“It says, ‘Santa’s Workshop, closed’,” the mother read.
“Does that mean Santa won’t be making toys for us anymore?”
The disappointment in the little girl’s voice fed the anger churning in his body. Before the mother could answer, he bent down to one knee in front of the sweet little girl with curly blond pigtails and pasted on a big smile.
“Absolutely not. Santa and his elves are working on something very special for boys and girls.”
“Are you one of Santa’s helpers?” she asked.
He’d never envisioned himself a worker elf, but if the shoe fit… “Absolutely.”
He stood up and gave the woman a smile. “There’s been a mistake. The Saturday after Thanksgiving, Hughes will be starting a new program: ‘Santa Traditions.’ While parents do their holiday shopping, there will be craft classes and storytelling from ten to four. It will be well-supervised, with full security and, of course, it’s free.”
“Thanks for letting me know. Do you work here?”
Caleb hesitated a second. “I was just hired.”
“Hi, I’m Elaine Madison. I’m a new employee in the toy department, and will be starting next week. This is my daughter, Amelia. My children are so excited that I will be working close to Santa,” she added with a wink. “See you around.”
“Bye, Mr. Elf.”
The heart-melting smile that brightened the little girl’s face, accompanied by the fluttery wave of her small hand, fired up his determination not to disappoint a single child.
He’d barely made it through the revolving door out onto the street, when he had Tracey on the phone.
“I just left the Fort Mavis location and I need to know, now, why they’ve cancelled the Santa Traditions program. Speak to the general manager, but don’t say I was here. Just tell them corporate is spot-checking to make sure everything is a go in all the stores.”
A few minutes later Tracey called him with the answers he needed.
“I spoke to Bernice Lyons and she was full of apologies. She’s only been on the job four months. The person they hired to coordinate the promotion never reported for work and they are actively seeking someone else.”
“Call her back and let her know that corporate will be sending a PR person to handle the promotion.”
“Who are we going to send at the last minute?”
His big toe cramped and inspiration struck. “Tell them a man by the name of Daniel Thompson will handle things.”
“But that’s your brother’s name.”
“Exactly. I don’t want them to know the President and CEO is one of Santa’s helpers. I’ve never been to this location so no one will recognize me.”
“Wait, I’m missing something. Are you sure everything is okay?”
“If it isn’t, I’ll get a boot in the ass from a lightning bolt.”
Caleb hung up before his assistant could ask any more questions. He silently patted himself on the back until he realized he would have to come up with planned craft classes for boys and girls between the ages of five and ten. Calling the other locations to get their plan of action might raise too many red flags. He wanted something unique to each store. He glanced up and spoke to his guardian angel. “You better send me a message attached to a lightning bolt.”
It was just after twelve noon when he drove down a tree-lined street in a neighborhood of well-kept homes. He purposely went this way to check out the location of the primary school and almost missed the school zone sign posting the required speed to fifteen miles per hour. At this time of day, the kids were on their lunch break and were running around the grassy field on the side of the one-story building. Two adults he assumed were teachers supervised a game of kickball.
One of the kids gave an overly enthusiastic punt. The ball shot into the air and bounced off the hood of Caleb’s car. Pain shot up his calf when he jammed on his brakes to let the attractive teacher retrieve the ball that had rolled against the curb on the other side of the street. Noon-day sun kissed her reddish gold hair that swept the middle of her back when she passed hurriedly in front of his fender. She mouthed “thank you” and her eyes sparkled when she offered a smile in gratitude. He lowered the window, grinned, and gave her a friendly wave.
When she bent over to pick up the ball, the slight breeze caught the edge of her tunic and revealed a pair of long slender legs encased in thin black leggings.
He patted his chest with his fingertips. “Be still my heart. Teachers didn’t look like that when I went to school. If that beauty worked in a high school, the teenage boys would have wet dreams.”
Teachers! School! “It’s not a lightning bolt, Daniel, but I got the message.” What better person to design the promotion than a teacher who knew what kids liked to do? He’d pay for their time. Who wasn’t eager to make extra money during the holidays?
He continued down the street and picked up his cell. “Tracey, contact the principal of the Davy Crockett Primary School in Fort Mavis and schedule an appointment for Daniel Thompson as soon as possible. Hopefully a teacher will help me set up the Santa Traditions program.”
“That’s a brilliant idea.”
“Yes, it is. Thank my brother.”
“Have you heard?”
When her classroom door opened, Erin stopped straightening the desks that were lined up ruler-straight. It didn’t take much to get Meredith, her very good friend and fellow third-grade teacher, excited. Erin was trying to decide if she liked the deep wine highlights her friend had added to her long black hair.
“I’ve heard a lot of things, like there isn’t enough money in the budget for the tablets we need for our kids. And the town council has removed the funds that would have upgraded the library lending system.” She slid pencils, decorated with a little flag, into the permanently mounted plastic tube at the top of each desk. Her kids never gave her the excuse they couldn’t find their pencils.
Meredith put an impatient hand on Erin’s arm. “Stop fussing with those damn pencils and pay attention!”
“Okay, what’s so important? There’s a pre-holiday, fifty-percent-off sale at Hughes.” Erin adjusted her long red tunic that she’d paired with black leggings. She’d long ago tuned out the bitchy comment that ‘redheads shouldn’t wear red’. She liked the color and didn’t care if it brought out the freckles on her nose that no amount of makeup could camouflage.
“Close, but no cigar. Mr. Walters just called an emergency staff meeting. A PR man from Hughes wants to talk to us about helping with their new holiday program.”
“When?”
“In the library, right now!”
“Nothing like telling us last minute,” Erin complained. “As long as it doesn’t go beyond four. I have to pick up Danielle from aftercare and then I’m taking her for a haircut.”
“You and your unbending schedule! She isn’t going anywhere since aftercare is in our building.”
; At three-thirty, the absence of children made the hallowed halls much too quiet and the janitors had started cleaning the vacant classrooms. Fall and Thanksgiving themes dominated the bulletin boards on either side of the halls. Their colleagues were already seated at the long tables in the library and media center.
Meredith leaned into Erin’s ear as soon as they took their seats up front. “Oh, my! He can park his horse in my stable anytime. He is hot!”
Erin focused her attention on straightening her yellow pad and pencil on the table in front of her. “Mr. Walters? He’s sixty years old.”
“Girl, pay attention and look!”
Erin took her friend’s advice. Their principal and another man were standing in the front of the room that doubled as their staff meeting area. Her eyes widened in recognition. It was the same guy she saw earlier. He’d replaced his mirrored sunglasses with thin dark frames. His navy and white checked shirt was neatly tucked into newer-looking jeans and his boots appeared new. Without the boot heels, she determined him to be about six-two. His age, early forties. She’d never been a good judge of character, but he appeared more suited to sit behind a desk than atop a horse.
The PR man’s stance insinuated confidence and overshadowed their staid and proper principal. His russet-brown hair had a subtle peak that arrowed the center of his forehead. She thought men who wore glasses were sexy. He tickled the anxious yearnings she’d kept under lock and key. One careless act taught her to be cautious with the opposite sex, but this GQ city slicker could park his horse in her stable anytime.
A heated blush ran all the way to her toes, and she quickly lowered her gaze when he caught her staring and offered a friendly grin in recognition.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Mr. Walters adjusted his polka dot bowtie before clearing his throat. “I’d like to introduce Mr. Thompson, a public relations representative from Hughes Department Stores. He has an interesting proposition that I’m sure you will find financially rewarding, especially with the holidays only six weeks away.”
“Thank you all for meeting with me on such short notice,” Caleb began. “This year Hughes wanted to do something special and different for children: rekindle holiday traditions. We are a department store, but we don’t want money and reality to erase the things we, as children, our parents, and even our grandparents, enjoyed. The person hired to run the program in the Fort Mavis store wasn’t able to fulfill their obligation so I was put in charge of getting the promotion up and running. We plan to have four sessions, the first one starting the Saturday after Thanksgiving.”
He looked directly at a middle-aged man in the front row. “What was your favorite holiday tradition growing up?”
“My dad whittled wooden ornaments. One year they would be soldiers, cars another year, and farm animals. My brother, sister, and I would paint them. They weren’t fancy or elaborate, but were made with loving hands. He learned from his father.”
“We don’t have the time to teach children how to whittle and there would be a liability issue, but we can have simple woodcraft kits the kids can put together and then paint.”
He looked at another teacher, this time a woman. “What is your favorite holiday tradition?
“When our daughter was small, one of our favorite things was picture ornaments. We would take a clear glass ball and put a picture printed on a transparency film inside. She would select a special photo for whoever she was giving the keepsake, especially a family member. It’s fun to look back at all the ornaments she made. It’s like a timeline of her life and special memories.”
“This is exactly what I hoped for our program.”
Caleb had been fighting the battle not to approach the stunning teacher with the sunset red hair he caught studying him a few minutes ago. He relented and turned up the wattage on his smile. “And what did you like to do?”
“We put together Helping Hand boxes for those in need. You take a shoe box and fill it with toiletries and small gifts. We always believed in the spirit of giving.”
“This is what I mean. You just related making holiday crafts, simple gifts for relatives, or something for those in need. It should be passed on. Santa Traditions is being offered in our stores all over the country so the traditions will be varied. Since we encourage Hanukkah and Kwanza, a number of stories can be read.
Caleb sensed he’d captured his audience with his enthusiasm when everyone granted him small smiles and nodded their heads in agreement.
All but one. His red-haired temptress had been frantically writing on her yellow pad, frowned a number of times, and then made a few more notes. From the questionable doubt he read on her face when she gave him a direct stare, he figured his plan was going to be a harder sell than anticipated.
“I’ve given a brief overview of our program, so now I’ll take any questions.”
Erin’s hand shot up. “Who will be overseeing the program?”
“I will. Whoever takes on the project will need to provide crafts and stories for the four sessions. They can be repeated every other week or during the day. Hughes will provide all of the craft supplies. Each room will have a baking corner if one of your crafts is making cookies. We are also conscious of food allergies, so signed clearance will be needed from their parents.”
“And what is your favorite cookie?” Melissa asked with a flirty smile.
The come-on in her voice was obvious, but he gave the attractive teacher with the wine-red highlights in her hair a gracious smile. “Gingerbread men.”
“What’s to prevent some parents from just dropping off their children for the day?” Mr. Walters asked.
“The program goes from ten in the morning until four. Each child will be allowed a two-hour time slot. The room will accommodate twenty children at a time and the crafts will have to be age-appropriate as much as possible. Children will be logged in and will wear a wristband, and only a parent or guardian will be allowed to pick up their child. Associates from Adams Security will be dressed like elves and will monitor security.”
Caleb braced himself when Ms. Drop-dead-gorgeous stood up. He purposely took note of the absence of a ring on her left hand.
“Mr. Thompson, this is a big undertaking since we would only have a short time to put together a program. I understand your strategy to draw shoppers to Hughes and that you will make a tidy profit, but we have family and school obligations and schedules to keep.”
The bold challenge in her schoolmarm voice silenced the low murmurs among the other teachers, and it appeared they were quite content to let her do their talking. He understood where she was coming from and was fully prepared to give her the truth.
“That was the idea, initially.”
Erin braced a hand on her hip. “So what changed your mind?”
Caleb moved to her table, nudged her yellow pad to the side, and sat on the edge to give her his undivided attention. It wasn’t his imagination that she sucked in a breath and took a small step back. Her cute nose was kissed by tiny freckles and he detected an inner fire that matched her beautiful hair. He liked this bold-spirited woman, but her deep green eyes told a different story—a cold mistrust of his motives.
“Hughes sponsors shelters in various parts of the country. The program is well-received and a number of our employees help serve Thanksgiving dinner every year, including myself. Many of the people are homeless. Once their bellies are full and they are content, they relax and talk. They reminisce about what they did as children. I go to the same one every year and just listen. I realized that kids today are being robbed of traditions that would be lost and forgotten. If only one or two children learn something, they can pass it on to their children. If this program is successful, I want to put together a book of unique “Santa Traditions” that can be used over and over again. Each year it can be updated. The profits from the books will be turned over to hospitals that specialize in the care of children.”
As he spoke, he relaxed when her eyes went from a cold challeng
e to a warm softening of understanding and agreement. “That is why this program is so important to me… I mean our company,” he quickly added.
“Okay, maybe I was wrong to accuse you of doing this just for profit. I agree with your reasoning and would be glad to help with your project.”
Erin looked at the other teachers. “How many will be able to help write up a proposal? We will also need help with the children when they work on the projects. At least three adults must be there the entire day.”
“I’ll be glad to organize volunteers. My Senior Girl Scouts can use the service hours for their Gold Award and I’m sure the local 4H club will help out,” Mrs. Murphy said.
Erin looked at Meredith. “How about you and I write up the actual plan with all the teachers’ input? We can get the proposal done in a couple of days and the teachers can give us the dates they are available to work. With everyone’s assistance, I’m sure we can come up with fun projects.”
Caleb moved away from the table and smiled at all of the teachers. “Sounds like a plan. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”
“Wait!” Erin held up the palm of her hand. “We were told there would be some sort of compensation.”
He’d been so eager to convince her to help, he forgot about amends. Each store had been given a budget, but the circumstances at the Fort Mavis location had changed. He needed their help, no matter what, and directed his reply to the lovely red-haired woman.
“Since I’ve brought my problem to you at the last minute, I am totally at your mercy.” He nodded at the rest of the teachers. “Why don’t you discuss it with everyone?”
Like a determined quarterback, she took his suggestion to heart and gathered everyone together. They actually huddled like a football team deciding on the next play. He didn’t have long to wait and she led her team back to their seats. It was the “we’ve-got-you-by-the-balls” look on her face and her rigid stance that made him apprehensive.
“This is what we would like. You provide a brand new tablet for every second, third, fourth, and fifth grade student in our school, and we’ll help you out with your Santa Traditions.” Oh, his red-haired maverick was good, but I’ve got you now. He didn’t hesitate, but added an addendum of his own. “Done, but I want you to be my contact and spokesperson for the project. Every teacher who contributes to the project will receive a generous monetary compensation.”
