“It’s a good one,” Krystal added.
And then he saw his daughter hurrying down the mall toward him and the heaviness that was trying to settle over him was blown away. There she came, his brown-eyed girl, all bundled up in boots and black leggings and a winter coat, her hair falling to her shoulders in a stylish light brown sheet. Once upon a time it had been curly and so cute. Then suddenly she’d decided she needed to straighten her hair. He never could understand why the curls had to go. But then, he’d never understood women’s fashion.
He also never understood why she thought her face was too round or why she thought she was fat. Her face was sweet. And she was just curvy. As far as he was concerned, she was the prettiest young woman in Seattle. That wasn’t fatherly prejudice. It was fact, plain and simple.
“Daddy,” she called and waved and began to run toward him.
Krystal had been right. This was a good surprise.
“Hello there, angel,” he greeted her and gave her a big hug. “Did you come to let your old man take you out to dinner?”
“I came to take my old man somewhere special for Christmas,” she said. “Thanks for not letting him get away,” she told his holiday helpers.
“No problem,” said Shauna. “Have a great time.”
“For Christmas?” James repeated as Brooke linked her arm through his and started them walking toward the shopping mall’s main entrance.
They were going somewhere for Christmas on the twenty-third? Did that mean she wasn’t going to spend Christmas with him and Dylan? It was their first Christmas without Faith (well, technically their second since she’d died on December 24 the year before). He’d assumed he and his son and daughter would all be together to help each other through the holidays.
But she was an adult. She could do what she wanted. Maybe she’d made plans with friends. If she had, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to run away from unpleasant memories. Maybe she’d found someone in the past couple of weeks and wanted to be with him. She shouldn’t have to babysit her dad.
“Don’t worry, Daddy,” she said. “I’ve got it all under control.”
He didn’t doubt that. Like her mother, Brooke was a planner and an organizer. She’d organized their Thanksgiving dinner, gathering his sister and his cousin and her husband, assigning everyone dishes to bring.
But what was she talking about? “Got what under control?”
“You’ll see,” she said with a Santa-like twinkle in her eyes.
Oh, boy, another surprise. “What are you up to, angel?”
“I’m not telling, but trust me, you’ll like it.”
He doubted he’d like anything this season, but he decided to play along. “Okay, lead on.”
He hoped she hadn’t spent too much money. Kindergarten teachers didn’t make a lot and he hated to think of her spending a fortune on some fancy meal. He’d be happy enough with a hamburger. Anyway, he’d rather eat in the car than go into a restaurant dressed like he was.
They were out of the mall now and at her trusty SUV. She complained about her gas mileage, but he was secretly glad she had it. The thing had all-wheel drive and handled well in the snow, which meant he didn’t have to worry about her when she was driving in bad weather. Seattle rarely got much of the white stuff, but they’d had a couple of inches earlier in the month and the weatherman was predicting more by New Year’s.
James had always loved it when they had a white Christmas. He remembered snowball fights with the kids and hot chocolate afterward. Faith used to lace his and hers with peppermint schnapps.
“No frowning allowed,” Brooke said as they got in.
“Who’s frowning? Santa doesn’t frown.”
“He never used to,” Brooke said softly.
“Well, Santa’s getting too grumpy for this job. I think it’s about time for the old boy to pack it in.”
His daughter shot a startled look in his direction. “Daddy, are you crazy?”
“No, I’m just...” Sick of this “ho, ho, ho” crap. It would never do to say such a cynical thing to his daughter. “Ready for a break,” he improvised.
“You can’t take a break,” she protested as she drove out of the parking lot. “You’re Santa.”
James looked at the crowd of cars rushing around them, people busy running errands, going places, preparing for holiday gatherings with loved ones. Most of the men in Seattle would be out the following day, frantically finding something for their wives or girlfriends. He wished he was going to be one of them.
He reminded himself that he still had his kids. He had a lot to be thankful for, and if Brooke had other plans for Christmas, well, he and Dylan could make turkey TV dinners and eat the last of the cookies she’d baked for them, then watch a movie like Bad Santa. Heh, heh, heh.
Now they were on the southbound freeway. Where were they going? Knowing his daughter, it would be someplace special.
He couldn’t help smiling as he thought about the contrast between her and his son. Dylan would come up with something at the last minute, most likely a six-pack of beer and a bag of nachos, their favorite football food. Naturally, Dylan would help him consume it all.
James was just wondering which downtown Seattle spot his daughter had picked for dinner and was hoping it was in the Pike Place Market when they exited off I-5 onto I-90, heading east out of Seattle. “Dinner in Bellevue?”
“Maybe,” she said, obviously determined to be mysterious.
They passed Bellevue. And then Issaquah, getting increasingly farther from the city. Where the heck was she taking him?
When they reached North Bend at the foot of the Cascades, he said, “So, we’re eating here?”
“Actually, dinner is in the backseat,” she said, nodding over her shoulder at a little red cooler. “I’ve got roast beef sandwiches and apples and a beer for you if you want it.”
If they weren’t going out to dinner, then where were they going? Now he began to feel uneasy. How long was he going to be stuck in this suit? “Okay,” he said, making his tone of voice serious so she’d know he was done fooling around. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to Icicle Falls,” she said brightly.
“What?”
“This is a kidnapping.”
That was not funny. “Brooke,” he said sternly. “I’m not going to Icicle Falls.”
“Daddy,” she said just as sternly. “We’re all going to Icicle Falls. For Christmas. I booked us rooms at the Icicle Creek Lodge.”
“You can’t just spring this on me, baby girl,” he said. “I don’t even have a change of clothes.”
“Not to worry. Dylan’s bringing clothes when he comes up later.”
He should have known she’d thought of that. She’d probably given her younger brother a detailed list. He tried another argument. “I can’t leave my car at the mall.”
“Dylan’s picking it up after work and driving it up. See? Everything’s under control.”
No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t even remotely under control. James was getting hauled off to some stupid Bavarian village that would be chock-full of Christmas lights and happy tourists when all he’d wanted was to spend Christmas at home with his kids. Being depressed because his wife wasn’t there with them. And making the kids feel bad. Ho, ho, ho.
“We thought we should do something different this year,” Brooke added gently.
Maybe she was right. They could have tried to celebrate the way they’d always done with a big dinner on Christmas Eve followed by a candlelight service at church and then pancakes and presents in the morning and friends over in the afternoon to sing Christmas carols and eat cookies, but it would have all been hollow and empty.
Still, he’d planned on trying. He’d bought a bunch of Christmas movies for them to watch and stocked up on cocoa, h
ad put up the tree and stuck their gift cards in among the branches. “I just thought we’d have Christmas at home,” he said. Now he sounded like an ingrate and he didn’t want to do that. Anyway, it was too late now. They were halfway to Icicle Falls. The Polar Express had left the station.
“I think this will be good,” Brooke said. “It’s our gift to you.”
“Your gift?” Staying in some lodge would be expensive. “Oh, no. I’ll take care of it.”
“Daddy,” she said firmly. “You’ve always taken care of us. And you’ve always been Santa,” she added, smiling at him. “Now it’s our turn to play Santa. So don’t ruin the game.”
He sighed and looked out the window at the stands of evergreens they were rushing past. He guessed he could play along.
As long as nobody asked him to be Santa this year. Because Santa had lost his Christmas spirit and he didn’t care if he ever found it again.
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ISBN-13: 9781460334553
THE TEA SHOP ON LAVENDER LANE
Copyright © 2014 by Sheila Rabe
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The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane (Life in Icicle Falls) Page 28
