The Perfect Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  “We’re giving them gifts?”

  “Candy canes. The children look forward to receiving those.”

  A cheap candy cane was a gift? That seemed to be an exaggeration—but who was Cassie to quibble over truth in advertising?

  They finally got to the ladies’ room and Cassie went inside. She removed her shoes and then her jeans and sweater. She hung what she could on the hook of the stall door, then sat on the toilet in order to slip on the tights. Force them on was more accurate.

  The fit was so tight, they felt like an extra skin. Unfortunately they didn’t reach all the way to her waist. One wrong move, and Cassie feared they’d roll down and reveal features—like her butt—that she’d rather keep private. It helped a little to jump up and down and then prance around, pulling on the waistband as she did. She also did a couple of squats. Still, the tights didn’t stretch quite as far as she would’ve liked.

  “Is everything all right in there, dear?” Daisy asked.

  “Just fine,” Cassie told her. Thankfully, the mini-dress fit. The shoes were good, too. She adjusted the hat in the bathroom mirror and realized she’d need to secure it for the flight. Digging around the bottom of her purse, she located two paper clips, which worked—sort of. How long those paper clips had been there and where they’d come from would forever remain a mystery. Cassie could only be grateful for their presence.

  She opened the restroom door, feeling more than a little foolish.

  Daisy stood back and brought both hands to her face. “Oh, this is just perfect.”

  “I look okay?”

  “You look wonderful. The children are going to be so excited.” Daisy glanced at her watch, then led Cassie to an elevator. Silently they rode to the second floor, where a crew of men seemed to be waiting for her. Eight—or was it nine?—life-size plastic reindeer were lined up against the wall beside an authentic-looking sleigh.

  Before Cassie had a chance to ask any questions, two of the men stepped forward and strapped her into a harness. They moved her arms, each grasping one, lifting them up and down.

  One of the men murmured something in Spanish. She couldn’t understand what he’d said, but got the gist of it when he made the sign of the cross and raised his eyes heavenward.

  “Don’t look down,” the other man advised her tersely.

  “You don’t have a thing to worry about,” Daisy said with a grandmotherly smile.

  Suddenly a voice came over the loudspeaker system. “Boys and girls, moms and dads—is that Santa’s sleigh I hear?”

  The man next to her jingled bells and everyone looked up to where Cassie stood.

  “Okay, boys,” Daisy whispered and stepped back.

  Suddenly Cassie was hoisted from the ground. Her feet made running movements as she scrabbled to find her footing and instead found only air.

  “Play to the crowd,” Daisy instructed in a loud stage whisper.

  “Santa’s on his way!” Cassie called out, doing her best to sound enthusiastic although she was absolutely terrified. “I can see him now! Look, here comes Santa.”

  And then it happened. Cassie gasped as her tights rolled down, catching on her thighs. She didn’t know what to do. The tights slid farther down and everyone in the entire mall seemed to be staring up at her.

  “I can see the elf’s underpants,” a little boy called, pointing at her.

  Suspended above the ground, Cassie watched as several mothers covered their children’s eyes.

  “Get her to the ground fast,” Cassie heard Daisy hiss.

  The men released the rope and Cassie plunged downward. “Yiiiiiii!” she screamed, all the while struggling to pull up her tights. She’d partially succeeded—then saw that she was about to make a crash landing.

  Just when it seemed she was destined to slam into the ground, a tall man emerged from the crowd and deftly caught her in his arms. The impact would have been enough to send them both sprawling to the floor if not for the fact that he’d braced his feet. Together they staggered backward until her hero recovered his balance.

  Cassie opened her eyes to see that the stranger who’d rescued her wasn’t a stranger at all. Her startled eyes met Simon’s, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Cassie’s arms were tightly wrapped around his neck. It took time for her to find her voice and, when she did, it came out in a high-pitched squeal.

  “You’re paying for this,” she told him, her pulse hammering in her ears. Why she’d ever agreed to this ridiculous scenario she’d never know. One thing was for sure; there wouldn’t be a repeat performance.

  Simon lowered her to the ground. “A simple thank-you will suffice,” he said calmly.

  Fortunately the audience was distracted by the flying reindeer, and no one could hear her X-rated response. Santa made his appearance, slipping out from behind a curtain. Santa Floyd carried a large bag over his shoulder, presumably filled with candy canes.

  Santa ascended to his special chair, a huge cushioned monstrosity set up on the curtained dais, and Cassie took her place beside him. She looked around for Simon but he was nowhere in sight. The boys and girls lined up with their parents, and the photographer was ready with his camera.

  The first boy clung to his mother. “He’s a little scared,” the woman explained, prying her son loose from her leg.

  The poor kid was panic-stricken. Cassie couldn’t understand why the mother felt it was so important to make him sit on Santa’s lap.

  “There’s no need to be frightened.” Cassie crouched down and tried to reassure the boy, who couldn’t have been more than four years old.

  “Go away!” he shouted.

  Cassie straightened and stepped back. Her timing was perfect. The boy, without even a hint of warning, vomited on one of her shoes.

  “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry,” the mother said a dozen times. “I had no idea Jason was going to do that.”

  Cassie hopped around on one foot until the photographer produced a small towel. If Jason was any indication of what she should expect, Cassie could only imagine the rest of her day.

  “Why don’t you sit on Santa’s lap with your son,” the photographer suggested. The mother appeared eager to do anything that would remove attention from Cassie and the results of her son’s queasy stomach. She clambered onto Floyd’s lap, her son dangling from her arms.

  After cleaning off her shoe, Cassie returned to her duties. The next few children had obviously had prior experience. They all told Santa their Christmas wishes, rattling off everything on their lists.

  The line moved relatively well for the next half hour or so. There was the occasional crying baby and one pair of twins who took up more time than allotted, but all in all, it was a smooth-running operation.

  Cassie had worked about two hours of her three-hour shift and was just beginning to think this job was tolerable. A lot of the children, while frightened, were eager to meet Santa. “Who are you?” a little girl asked as she waited patiently for her turn some time later. Cassie’s shift was almost over by then, and there were only a few more kids in line. Other than a harrowing entrance and one small boy with a queasy stomach, it hadn’t worked out so badly.

  “Who am I?” Cassie repeated the question. “I’m one of Santa’s helpers,” she said as she handed the child a candy cane.

  “Are you really an elf?”

  Cassie nodded.

  “You don’t look like an elf.”

  “I don’t?” Cassie said, surprised.

  “You look more like a—”

  “You pushed in front of me,” the child’s mother protested, elbowing the woman ahead of her in line.

  “I most certainly did not!” The second woman elbowed the other one back as her son watched, eyes wide.

  “Mommy, I have to pee.” This plaintive declaration came from the first combatant’s daughter, aged four or five.

  “We are not getting out of this line now. I’ll find you a restroom as soon as we’re done,” s
he said and shoved her way to the front, dragging the little girl.

  “Would you kindly tell this person that I was ahead of her?” The comment was directed at Cassie by the other woman. The shoving match continued.

  “Sorry,” Cassie said, coming to stand between the two mothers. “I really wasn’t paying attention, but if this goes on, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you both to leave.” She said this with great authority and was rather proud of herself.

  “Mommy,” the little girl cried, her voice urgent now. “I can’t wait anymore.”

  That was when Cassie felt the warm liquid soak into the top of her foot. She glanced down and saw a small waterfall raining down, ruining her shoe—the one unstained by vomit.

  Letting out a yell, she leaped back and automatically shook her foot.

  “Orange!” the woman shouted.

  “It’s okay. I don’t have to pee anymore.”

  “Oh, dear…”

  “Your daughter’s name is Orange?” the other woman asked.

  The first woman nodded. “We’re from Florida.”

  The second mother backed away from the puddle on the floor, clutching her son’s hand—and leaving Orange at the head of the line.

  “I have a tissue.” Orange’s mother—Grapefruit? Cassie thought hysterically—offered her a crumpled wad.

  “I’m fine,” Cassie muttered. She intended to burn these tights once her shift was over. The shoes were probably goners, too. She wondered if Simon could possibly have known what this stint would entail.

  After the two squabbling mothers had finished with Santa, a young girl, the very last one in line, approached Cassie all by herself.

  “She hasn’t paid,” the photographer said as he returned his camera to its case.

  Pleading eyes were raised to Cassie’s. “I need to talk to Santa for just a minute,” the girl whispered. “You don’t have to give me a candy cane.”

  “How old are you?” Cassie asked, bending down so they were eye-to-eye.

  “Eight.”

  Just a bit too old to believe in Santa Claus. And yet the child was so intent, Cassie didn’t feel she could turn her away.

  “Forget about the picture,” she said when the photographer cast her a dirty look.

  “Ho. Ho. Ho. And who do we have here?” Santa asked, ignoring the other man. He held out his arms to the child.

  “Catherine,” the child said softly. She walked up to Santa but didn’t sit on his lap.

  “And what would you like for Christmas?” he asked, playing his role to the hilt.

  Staring down at the carpet, the child said, “I want my daddy to come home.” Huge tears welled in her eyes. “He left and now my mommy says they’re getting a divorce. All I want for Christmas is my daddy back.”

  Cassie felt tears burning in her own eyes. She looked at Floyd and wondered how he’d handle this.

  “That’s a mighty big order, Catherine,” he said.

  “I don’t want anything else. I don’t need toys but I need my daddy.”

  “Catherine?” A woman’s voice echoed through the mall.

  “I’m here, Mommy!”

  The child’s mother rushed up the steps to Santa’s throne and fell to her knees in front of her daughter. She seemed about to burst into tears. “I looked everywhere for you,” she cried. She threw her arms around her daughter’s waist.

  “I told you I was going to talk to Santa,” Catherine reminded her. “I had to wait in line.”

  “I’m sorry if Catherine caused a problem,” her mother said and, standing, took the little girl by the hand—but not before Santa whispered a few words in the child’s ear.

  “We’re finished,” Santa said as Catherine’s mother led her daughter away.

  Cassie must have looked as upset as she felt because Floyd gently patted her back. “Those are the tough ones. You did a great job.”

  Cassie doubted that.

  “What did you say to her?” she asked him.

  “I said her daddy still loves her and that he’ll always love her. That it’s not her fault he left.” He stretched his arms high above his head. “Now this Santa has an appointment with Mr. Budweiser. Want to join me?”

  “Thanks…but no thanks.”

  “Then you’re free to go. Another elf will take over for you this afternoon.”

  Cassie nodded, eager to make her escape. As she started for the changing room, Simon appeared beside her.

  Cassie realized she wasn’t going to be able to control her emotions. Tears streamed down her face.

  “What is it?” he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned.

  “I was that little girl once,” she said with difficulty. “All I wanted for Christmas was for my daddy to come home.” She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to stifle her sobs.

  They reached the doorway that led to the mall interior. Simon held open the door and Cassie slipped into the darkened hallway. Once inside, she leaned against the wall and let the tears flow unrestrained.

  Simon stood next to her for several minutes, then tentatively placed his arms around her.

  Cassie didn’t care who he was; she needed his comfort. She rested her face against him, sobbing into his expensive wool jacket.

  His hold relaxed and, after an awkward moment, he spoke soothingly into her ear. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. It didn’t matter.

  As if by instinct, she lifted her head and gazed up at him. He whispered something else, something that sounded like “It wasn’t your fault.” Then his lips, warm and tender, descended on hers.

  Chapter 10

  Simon says: If you’re the woman he’s looking for, I will find you.

  Simon’s gentleness consoled her as he held her close. Cassie didn’t want him to ever stop, and he didn’t seem inclined to let her go. Time lost meaning, and Cassie didn’t know how long he held her against him.

  Then, just when she was least prepared, he seemed to snap to attention, become aware of his surroundings. He dropped his arms and stepped away. His movements were so abrupt that she nearly stumbled. She might have if he hadn’t clasped her shoulders to steady her.

  Speechless, she stared up at him, unable to make sense of what had happened in the past few minutes. Under normal conditions, Cassie didn’t give way to emotion, and certainly not in public. But Christmas, that little girl and the memory of losing her own father had struck her hard and there’d been no stopping the barrage of deeply buried feelings. She told herself she was not going to react to that kiss.

  “I need a cup of coffee,” she murmured. Despite her tears her throat was parched.

  Simon nodded.

  “I’ll change clothes and be right back.” She was sure her voice sounded strained and unnatural. She hurried inside the ladies’ room; once the door was closed she leaned against it and covered her face. Her whole body was trembling. Eventually, when she felt composed again, she straightened and began to dress.

  To the best of her knowledge, this was the first time she’d ever cried over her father. Peter Beaumont had simply walked out of their lives one day as if it meant nothing. As if they meant nothing. The event had forever marked her and Shawn and their mother, as well. And yet he seemed oblivious to the anguish he’d inflicted on his wife and children. His excuse was that he needed to “find himself.” Apparently he couldn’t manage that and be a husband and father at the same time. His was a solitary path, and it didn’t seem to matter how many hearts he crushed along the way. Cassie made every effort to cast all thoughts of him out of her mind. But he was there, as much as she wanted to deny his existence.

  When Cassie had finished dressing, she left her outfit neatly on a ledge near the sink and wrote Daisy a note explaining why the shoes and tights were in the garbage. Then she brushed her hair and repaired her makeup. Simon was pacing in the hallway outside the door. He stopped when he saw her and even in the dimly lit hallway she could see that he wasn’t quite himself, either.

  With his hand at her elbow,
he escorted her back into the mall and toward an exit. “There’s a place close by where we can have coffee.” He reached inside his pocket for his car keys. “I’ll drive.”

  Cassie didn’t know what was wrong with the restaurants that were within walking distance. However, she didn’t have the energy to argue, so she just followed him.

  She wasn’t surprised to see that he drove a black sedan with a black interior, which was meticulously maintained; she wouldn’t have expected anything less. Simon wasn’t the type of man who’d have hamburger wrappings and stale French fries littering his vehicle.

  They didn’t speak; he glanced at her for approval, then flipped on a CD. She recognized the calming strains of a Bach piano concerto. Again, she wasn’t surprised, although she couldn’t have identified the piece. She leaned back, eyes shut, letting the music flow over her. The restaurant wasn’t really all that close, she noted a little later. It was perhaps a fifteen-minute drive along the Tacoma waterfront before he pulled into an exclusive housing development. He turned down several streets, then entered a driveway.

  “This isn’t a restaurant,” Cassie said.

  “No, it’s my home.”

  “Your home?”

  “I felt we’d both appreciate privacy for this discussion.”

  He was probably right.

  Simon ushered her inside. The house was spotless. It looked like one of those model homes with everything carefully arranged and color-coordinated, not a thing out of place. No Christmas decorations. Nor did she see a single photograph, and that seemed almost unnatural. Surely there were people in his life, people he loved and cared about. Family. Friends. Then again, maybe he preferred to keep his distance from others. Maybe he felt his job required it.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said and gestured toward the sofa. Then he disappeared into the kitchen through a swinging door.

  Cassie looked out over Commencement Bay, although her thoughts still churned and she hardly noticed the beauty before her. She had a distinct feeling that their professional agreement was about to come to an end.