Rosalie clutched her stomach. “He’s got the bug too.”
“Come in,” Kevin repeated from the storage room. “Mr. Claus is decent.”
Mary Margaret had no choice but to help her pretend husband. To hesitate meant to risk a riot in the store. She opened the door and then shut herself in with temptation—a man dressed in red and a bushy amount of fake white hair.
“I’m having trouble with my bowlful of jelly.” Kevin stood in red velvet pants held up by suspenders. His pillow padding hung high on his broad chest, right under his fake white beard. He looked a mess, and, to her, kind of sweet. He made a mopey face. “Help me, Mrs. Claus.”
“Turn around, Santa.” Mary Margaret adjusted his straps in the back, reached around his chest with both hands, and yanked the quilted padding down.
“That was some hug.” Kevin looked at her over his shoulder, a tease in his eyes. “Are you feeling the Christmas spirit?”
“Are you prepared to greet a slew of happy children and their pets?” she shot back.
“Ho-ho-ho. Looking good, Mrs. Claus.” He had a wicked smile despite that white beard.
She wouldn’t let herself fall for it. “We’re friends, remember? We were pathetic together. That’s not sexy.” Oh but it was. She’d looked for him in the audience at the Hanky Panky all week. She took his jacket from the hanger and helped him into it. “We need to hurry, Santa. The natives are getting restless. Fair warning. I saw the requests my students wrote to Santa. Most were longer than my arm.”
Kevin stopped buttoning his velvet jacket and took her forearm with both hands. “That’s long, even for kids who don’t deserve coal.”
“And another thing.” Mary Margaret drew her arm back into the neutral zone, resting her hand on her stomach in the hopes it would squelch the flutter of attraction caused by his touch. “I saw a student from my class out there. Louise tends to need the bathroom when she gets excited. And when she’s startled, she’s a nervous vomiter.”
Kevin’s eyes widened in mock horror. “I’ll try not to scare her or hype her up.” He gave a practice ho-ho-ho. “Anything else I should know?”
That she found him attractive? That despite the challenge she’d thrown at him at the bakery, she feared she’d never find her holiday spirit again? That she was deathly afraid Laurel and Hardy would be disappointed with whatever money she made this week and do more than slit her tires?
“Mary Margaret?” Kevin’s brows lowered in a look of concern.
“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I’m filled with holiday cheer.”
“And I feel great joy at seeing other couples walk arm in arm. Not a doubt in my mind that they aren’t happy and won’t be forever and ever.” Kevin joked as he threaded the black belt through the thin loops at his sides. “Scrooge and the jaded bachelor. We were made for each other.”
If for no other reason than they were poor choices for anyone else. She no longer had to force her smile.
A child shrieked on the other side of the door. A dog barked, which set off several more in the line.
“Let’s go, Santa.” Mary Margaret picked up his bulky green bag and handed it to him. It was loaded with photo frames made and donated by his father, frames that would presumably be filled by the pictures they were about to take.
Kevin slung the bag over his shoulder, clattering wrapped frames in the process. “Mrs. Claus.” He held out an arm, a twinkle in his eye beneath the shaggy wig, bushy white brows, and thick beard. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Unable to resist his charm, Mary Margaret took his arm. They were married, after all, at least for the next two hours.
Rosalie and Everett had set a chair fit for the King of the North Pole. There were two steps up to the stage where the large chair awaited. A backdrop of green velvet curtains had been hung behind it.
They walked to the throne to the enthusiastic cries of children. It didn’t matter that Kevin and Mary Margaret were tall or that they didn’t fill out their costumes. They were like K-pop stars to teenage girls.
Kevin stopped at the sight, spread his arms and said, “Is that my throne?”
The kids let out shrill, enthusiastic affirmations.
Rosalie stepped behind the camera mounted on a tripod. She had some high school kids working the register and standing guard over the litter of puppies in the store window.
Kevin turned, playing to the crowd. “That’s where the magic happens, boys and girls. That’s where you’ll tell me what you want for Christmas.” He let out a deep ho-ho-ho.
Won over, Mary Margaret giggled, along with the forty or so children who’d squeezed into the store.
Maybe there was hope for her yet.
* * *
While Rosalie took care of some last minute details, Kevin stared into Mary Margaret’s bespectacled eyes.
He appreciated a good sport. Mary Margaret had come in on short notice and embraced the role as the wife to his jolly old elf. He hadn’t seen her since their dual meltdowns at the bakery. They’d finished their coffees and said their good-byes without so much as a hug or a Merry Christmas. Since then, he’d been practicing smooth lines to inform her she was most likely being investigated by his political party.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell her. It wasn’t as if they’d find anything detrimental to his career in her past.
Mary Margaret self-consciously tugged at her red velvet beret.
“How’s that holiday spirit holding up, Mrs. Claus?” Kevin had to raise his voice above the boisterous crush waiting to have their picture taken with Santa.
“Any progress on finding that paragon of virtue?” Mary Margaret’s smile was soft, her voice uncertain.
He waggled his fake white eyebrows, the ones pasted on top of his own. “Are you interested in applying for the role?”
Before she could answer, Rosalie climbed on the dais with Kevin and called for quiet. “The second annual Santa & Friends Photo Experience is about to start. For five dollars, you’ll receive a photo and a photo frame donated by Hadley Furniture. All proceeds benefit the Friends of Sunshine Animal Rescue. Let’s get this photo shoot started by giving Santa a big round of applause.”
Clapping, Mary Margaret moved toward the mother-daughter duo at the front of the line.
Rosalie darted behind the camera.
“Santa!” A cute little girl walked up to him holding Mary Margaret’s hand. She had neat brown pigtails, big brown eyes, and a name tag that said Ella.
At the bottom step, the little munchkin dug in her pink snow boots. Mary Margaret couldn’t encourage her up the stairs to Kevin’s lap.
Rosalie hurried over with a small white puppy with curly hair and a shiny red bow. She set the ball of fluff in Kevin’s arms and turned to the girl holding up the line. “Don’t you want to pet the puppy, sweetie?”
“Oh, she’s evil,” Ella’s mother, Tamara Whitfield, scowled at Rosalie. “We don’t need another dog.”
“It’s not a dog.” Rosalie grinned like she’d won the lottery. “It’s a puppy. And we encouraged kids to bring their pets.”
You shouldn’t be associated with unhappy parents. That was Barb’s hypersensitive voice in Kevin’s head. When she’d been in charge of his schedule, she’d kept him away from events like this.
Always give the public what they want. That was his father’s voice. As was, you won’t be around for me to pass the mantle of Hadley Furniture.
The chair Kevin sat on was a Hadley product. He rolled his cramping right shoulder and shifted in his seat.
“Santa?” Mary Margaret looked concerned.
“I’m fine.” Stupid shoulder injury always acted up when he was stressed. “Just waiting for Ella.” Kevin pitched his voice low and waved the hesitant girl forward. “Rosalie’s puppy wants to hear what you want for Christmas.”
Eventually, Mary Margaret was able to coax the little girl up to the throne. She turned Ella so she faced the camera. “Tell Santa what you want, honey.”
&nbs
p; “I want…I want…” Ella’s eyes glazed with fear. Her hand was on the puppy. “I want a puppy!”
Tamara frowned. Ella’s eyes filled with tears, and her expression crumpled. A puppy was clearly not on her list but she was too frightened by meeting Santa to remember what she wanted.
“Ella,” Kevin said and patted her head. “I know you didn’t have a puppy on your list before today.”
“I didn’t.” The little angel turned her face toward him, wonder in her brown eyes. “I asked for a Barbie Jeep with a real engine for me to ride in and a BB gun because Dad says I’m going to be a hunter. And don’t forget the rolls of colored duct tape to make friendship bracelets. They don’t carry them at Emory’s.”
“That’s a Colorado girl for you.” Kevin grinned and let out a bellyful of ho-ho-ho’s.
Rosalie snapped pictures.
“We love Santa.” Tamara gave Kevin two thumbs-up.
Ella slid off his lap and then buried her face in the puppy’s fur. “But I’d love a puppy. This puppy.”
“And Santa crashes and burns.” Ella’s mother rolled her eyes.
“Do you know what, Ella?” Kevin asked. “There’s a rule that Santa can’t bring puppies or kittens to boys and girls. Only mommies and daddies can give those as gifts.”
“You never should have doubted him,” Mary Margaret said to Tamara, handing her a photo frame. She turned to Ella, taking the puppy. “Come on, girlie. I bet you’ve got some shopping to do before the Christmas tree lighting ceremony later.”
An event Kevin had promised to emcee.
The next few kids and pets were pros and didn’t make a scene. And then it was Tad’s turn.
“Rosalie should’ve given you a mask.” Mary Margaret put her glasses on Kevin and slid his hat lower on his forehead.
A mask? That reminded him of Foxy Roxy. “Santa doesn’t need a sexy mask,” he whispered to her, causing Mary Margaret to give him a double-take. But he had no time to dissect the meaning of that look. Tad approached with Chester, Kevin’s father’s Labrador, in tow.
Tad’s hand covered his name tag, a test to see if Santa knew his name.
“Ho-ho-ho. Come on up, Thaddeus.”
His son turned to Kevin’s mother. “He knows my name, Grandma.” Tad ran up the steps and into Kevin’s lap, beating Chester, who settled for resting his broad, brown head on Kevin’s knee. “Santa, I bet you know what I want for Christmas too. I sent you a letter.”
“Ho-ho-ho.” Not wanting to disappoint his son, Kevin lifted his gaze to Mary Margaret’s in a plea for help. “Sometimes Mrs. Claus opens the mail.”
Mary Margaret hurried to Kevin’s side and whispered in his ear. “A fire truck, a drone, and a gift card to the Saddle Horn.”
“So, little Thaddeus, you like the Saddle Horn, do you?” Kevin’s low pitch was building a scratch in his throat. “Don’t your mom and dad take you there often enough?” He was teasing. Barb took Tad there every Sunday.
Tad shook his head and said in a furtive voice, “Mommy says mile-high whips make me fat. When we go, I get an egg with yucky cheese and a water.”
Kevin’s heart contracted, leaving him breathless. Depriving Tad of a hot chocolate when other kids had one? His ex-wife had gone too far.
“I’m not supposed to tell Daddy.” Tad faced the camera, fingering the snaps on his jacket. “If I had a gift card, I could go on my own.”
“You should never go alone.” Kevin held Tad like the precious, fragile person he was, silently vowing to take his son to breakfast every Sunday from now on. “I’ll tell you a secret, Thaddeus. Mile-high whips don’t make you fat. Your mommy doesn’t know that yet.” But she will, he vowed, putting his bearded cheek next to Tad’s face. “Smile for the camera and say Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas!” Tad cried with his usual exuberance.
Rosalie snapped several pictures.
Kevin helped Tad get down but he was ready for his reign as Santa to end. He needed to find Barb and put an end to this body shaming. Tad was a healthy eater. And like many kids, he bulked up a bit before he grew. Just last year, he’d put on some weight and then had grown two inches in two weeks, slimming down in the process. How could Barb forget that?
“Here comes Louise,” Mary Margaret announced as she led a little blond girl up to Kevin.
Louise. The nervous wetter and fearful vomiter.
Louise stumbled to a stop at the base of the stairs and stared at Kevin as if he were the boogeyman and had just crawled out from under her bed. A small white mouse poked its nose out of her shirt pocket, sniffed, and then retreated.
“Ho-ho-ho, Louise.”
“Santa, Louise wants to make sure you received her letter,” Mary Margaret said cheerfully. “And her mother would like a picture of the three of us.”
“No.” Louise shook her head, leaning backward against Mary Margaret’s hands.
Mary Margaret glanced back at Kathy Franklin.
“Louise, baby, I was hoping to send your picture to Grampy in Denver.” Kathy gave her daughter a watery smile.
“Louise, you like to have fun, don’t you?” What had she been doing the other day when he’d visited Mary Margaret’s classroom? Ah yes. “You like to color. I like to color too. But I don’t always color in the lines.” He leaned forward, resting his arm on his knee. “But you and I both know that doesn’t matter, does it? Colors on the paper are pretty no matter what lines they cross.”
Louise mounted the first stair. Mouth open, she nodded.
“That’s why I’m going to give you lots of blank paper to color on this year.”
“Ohhh.” She climbed up another step. “Thank you,” she breathed, twirling her thin blond hair.
“Can you coax your mouse out, turn around, and smile for Grampy?” He gently encouraged Louise to face the camera while Mary Margaret took her place on the other side of him. The mouse was nowhere to be seen.
Once turned around, Louise realized everyone in line was looking at her. She backed up into Kevin, and then glanced at him over her shoulder with a frightened expression, gagging.
“It’s okay, Louise.” He patted her back, urging her forward slightly. “Don’t be afraid. Ho-ho-ho.”
Louise convulsed.
Kathy and Mary Margaret rushed for the little girl. Mary Margaret got there first, just in time for Louise to projectile vomit on Mrs. Claus’s dress.
Both females froze. The people in line for photos quieted. Kevin’s planned ho-ho-ho stuck in his throat.
“I am so sorry.” Kathy produced wipes from her purse. She concentrated on cleaning up her daughter. “We stopped for a quick bite to eat before we got in line.”
“It’s all right,” Mary Margaret said in a small voice. “Excuse me, honey. Merry Christmas.” She disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
“No worries.” Unperturbed, Rosalie appeared with paper towels and disinfectant spray. “Good thing we’re used to pet accidents.”
“You see? It’s okay.” Kathy reached into Louise’s pocket. “Snowflake’s okay too.” She shepherded her daughter toward the exit. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you home.”
“Ho-ho-ho.” Kevin stood and waved to kids in the back of the line, the ones who hadn’t witnessed the disaster.
A few minutes later, Mary Margaret returned in her street clothes, Ms. Sneed once more. “I’ve been down-graded to volunteer elf.”
“Are you okay?” Kevin felt traumatized.
“I’m fine.” Her smile proved it. “Kindergarten teacher, remember? I’m used to accidents and upset stomachs…at least from kids, not bulls. Besides, the show must go on.”
And go on it did.
Nearly two hours later, Kevin had been rejected by crying babies, growled at by nervous dogs, glared at by suspicious toddlers, and told he wasn’t the real Santa by at least a dozen older kids. But he’d also been hugged, squeezed, slobbered on, and grinned at. Playing Santa was a lot like being a politician. You didn’t know what yo
u were going to get from one minute to the next. You just had to roll with the punches. Kind of like kindergarten teachers too, he supposed.
“What a turnout,” Kevin said when Rosalie finally called a halt to the event. “Where did they all come from?”
“I advertised in Greeley.” Rosalie was unapologetic about the crush. “It was a success, don’t you think? We sent home two puppies, three kittens, and four bunnies. Plus, the cash register was ringing the entire time. And best of all, we raised over five hundred dollars in donations for the local animal shelter.”
Mary Margaret accompanied Kevin to the back room where she helped him out of his padding. Now was the perfect time to tell her he’d slipped up during his screening interview and implied they were almost a thing. But before he could say anything, Mary Margaret stepped out.
When Kevin was beardless and back in his street clothes, he joined Mary Margaret and Rosalie out in the shop.
“You guys were great.” Rosalie handed them each an envelope.
Mary Margaret stared at it, then she handed it back. “Add it to the donation.”
Kevin did the same.
“Really?” Rosalie gushed and hugged them. “You two are the greatest. Merry Christmas!”
Mary Margaret and Kevin walked out the pet shop door. The sidewalk was bustling with holiday shoppers. “All I Want for Christmas” was playing through the speakers in the town square.
“That was nice of you to donate your pay.” Especially when he knew she needed the money.
“I’ll tell you a secret I learned growing up.” Her smile was tentative, as if her secret was sad. “Preacher’s kid wisdom. There’s always someone in a worse situation than you are. In this case, there are homeless animals worse off than me.”
“I know that was a test of your holiday spirit, Mrs. Claus.” He brushed a lock of red hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think your Christmas batteries are as low as you originally thought.”
“And you can’t be as jaded about relationships as you claim.” Her smile strengthened. “Anyone who saw Lola and Drew with little Becky today couldn’t deny they’d found their happily ever after.”
“Point taken.” The couple had beaten the odds. Kevin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, reaching for her gloved hand. “Some couples you just know will make it.” Like them. He had a good feeling about Mary Margaret and him.
A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella Page 13
