Ginger (Marrying Miss Kringle)

by Lucy McConnell

  “Santa won’t read my letter?” Layla’s whole body sagged.

  Joseph hurried forward. “Layla. You need to stay with me. You can’t just wander off here—it’s not—it’s dangerous.” He didn’t want to scare her, but she had to understand that running away from him was not an option. He clutched her shoulders to assure himself she was all right.

  Layla’s eyes clouded, and she clutched a folded paper to her chest with a heavy sigh.

  “What’s the matter, sweets?” the woman asked.

  “Am I on the naughty list now? I didn’t mean to run away, but I wanted to mail my letter, and my mom told me Uncle Joseph didn’t believe in Santa, so I wrote my letter by myself, and I was going to mail it, but I don’t have an envelope, and they cost money, and I didn’t have any, and now I’m on the naughty list because I was sneaky, and you said Santa doesn’t read the letters.” Layla burst into tears.

  Joseph stared at her in wonder. How could one little body hold so many emotions?

  Putting her hands on her knees, the woman leaned over, giving Joseph the full treatment of her cookie smell. Had she bathed in the batter? “I have an envelope, and I’ll be happy to give it to you, and I can assure you that you are not on the naughty list.” Her genuine smile was captivating. Joseph’s chest warmed, and he had the sudden desire to join the rest of her admirers.

  “Are you sure?” Lyla squeezed the letter even tighter.

  “Yes.”

  Warm feeling gone. This woman, though her intentions were good, was lying to Layla. Not about being on a naughty list, but that there was such a thing.

  She held out an envelope with a bell stamp on the upper right corner and “Santa Express” scrawled across the front. Layla eagerly stuffed her letter inside.

  Joseph took a deep breath. He needed to read Layla’s letter, and then he’d be able to fulfill her every wish. Shouldn’t be too hard to pull a slip of the wrist and tuck the letter into his pocket instead of the mail slot. “Thanks … er …” Joseph paused, remembering the gentle way her hand had cupped his head. He didn’t think anyone had touched him with such tenderness before.

  “Ginger,” she supplied.

  The name fit. From her rich brown hair tinged with red to the hint of spice that followed her movements and tantalized his senses.

  “Ginger,” he repeated like a moron. Joseph reached for the letter.

  Layla pulled it close to her chest. “I wanted Santa to read it.”

  “Why’s that?” Ginger asked, straightening up. “I assure you, the process runs smoothly as it has been for years. Your letter will not be lost, nor will it be ignored. Frost may seem flighty because she’s really, really into clothes, but she’s the most detail-oriented daughter Santa has.”

  Layla looked around. “Because, because … it’s secret.”

  “In that case …” Ginger dug into her red velvet purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. Joseph watched in fascination as she applied the rose color to her plump lips. His heartbeat sped up, making it hard to breathe normally.

  Taking Layla’s envelope, Ginger pressed a kiss to the front. “Not many people know this, but a kiss on the envelope will get the letter directly to Santa’s desk.” Ginger went to put it in the mail slot, but Layla stopped her.

  “I can do it.” Layla dropped the envelope in the one place Joseph couldn’t retrieve it. Not unless he wanted to be charged with tampering with the federal mail.

  Upset, he clenched his fist. Layla may be eating up Ginger’s version of a rosy North Pole family, but he wasn’t buying any of her Christmas malarkey. “Exactly how many daughters does Santa have?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm and a hearty dash of disbelief.

  Nonplussed by his gruffness, Ginger’s eyes did that sparkle thing. “Five.”

  He grunted. “Name them.”

  Ginger grinned. “Robyn, Lux, G—er—Marie, Stella, and Frost. In that order.”

  He didn’t miss her stutter. He also didn’t miss the wonder on Layla’s cherubic face. He needed to get her out of here before Ginger had her singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” The less they focused on Santa, the better off Layla would be. He was going to have a hard enough time figuring out what was on her list without the letter; he didn’t need to worry about keeping track of some imaginary Christmas family and all their daughters.

  “Look, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell stories to my niece. We’re not big on the whole Christmas thing and—”

  Susan bustled past the window, barking orders into her walkie-talkie. “We need that helicopter—this is a little girl we’re talking about.”

  “Oh no.” He met Layla’s questioning gaze. “Stay here,” he said firmly.

  “I’ll stay with her.” Ginger placed her arm around the girl.

  “As if that’s supposed to make me feel better.” Joseph hurried after Susan to call off search and rescue.

  Chapter Seven

  Ginger reached into her purse and pulled out a small puzzle game to keep Layla occupied while they waited. She showed the child how to tip the toy this way and that to get the ball in the center and win. Layla’s tongue poked out one side of her mouth as she concentrated.

  Joseph hadn’t seemed that excited about leaving the two of them together. She chalked up his unkind comment to stress. Stress and the fact that she’d about knocked him out with a door the other night. His first impression of her may not have been a good one, despite her best efforts to tend to the damage.

  Something she’d been remembering often. Too often.

  The way he’d looked at her as she administered to his wounded chin, with the hallowed eyes of one who needed love and care, had been on the forefront of her mind. Still, he wasn’t on her list, and she had to wonder if perchance he had been on the naughty list at some point, which would have disqualified him in Santa’s eyes. Ginger bit her thumbnail.

  She sensed that a man who took in his niece would be the kind of guy who was on the good list growing up. That may have been wishful thinking on her part, because he was truly a handsome man—biggest understatement of her life—and she couldn’t imagine that the future Mrs. Kringle would be attracted to a guy on the naughty list.

  Reaching behind her, Ginger sagged against the counter. Attracted? She couldn’t be attracted to anyone—other than the preapproved five on her list. No. What she was feeling was … intrigue. Probably because the man was the sole provider for this darling child. The whole situation with Layla and her uncle was intriguing, not Joseph himself. Joseph was … her thoughts scattered to the feeling of her hand against his beard.

  Oh, cinnamon sticks!

  The postmaster, Walter, stepped out of the back room. When he smiled, a hole where his left canine should have been became visible. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” Ginger squeaked. Time to put thoughts of forbidden men out of her mind and focus on the task at hand. “Yes,” she said louder. “I wonder if you could tell me when the doctor’s office opens.”

  Walter leaned back as if she were contagious. Ginger pictured Stella pretending to hack away just to frighten the man. She had to bite back her smile. Who needed to be on the naughty list when you had a sister who was willing to entertain you with her antics?

  “He got a call out to the Gringorts—she’s having her baby.”

  “That’s exciting.” Ginger tried to hide her disappointment with a wooden smile.

  “If it’s an emergency, you can see his nurse practitioner,” Walter volunteered.

  “No. I’m not ill, and a new baby is much more important.” She’d hoped to get this meet and greet going today. The sheets of her countdown-to-Christmas calendar were falling away. Perhaps it was time to broaden her search and find the next guy on the list. A flock of nerves attacked her stomach. She’d wrapped her head around meeting the doctor but hadn’t really looked past him on the list in hopes that one awkward meeting would be enough. “Perhaps you could tell me where to find Quik Nelson.”

  “Alls I know i
s that he lives northeast of here. If you don’t need something, then I’ve got to get back to sortin’ the mail.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Ginger leaned against the counter and faced Layla, who had completed the game and had a triumphant gleam in her eye. “Now what am I going to do?”

  “You could help me make gingerbread men. We need them to decorate our tree.” Layla’s sweet face brightened with hope.

  Ginger mulled over her options. Go back to the cabin, where Lux had covered every inch of counter space with charts—apparently Christmas Magic was fluctuating again, this time causing overloads, and she was frantic to figure out why. Or, she could bake cookies and spend some time with Layla and maybe her uncle Joseph—which, despite his rather rude comment earlier, wasn’t an entirely unpleasant idea. Besides, with Joseph there was no pressure to fall into true and endless love. The doctor should be back soon, and she could pick up her search for Mr. Christmas right where she left off.

  “Sure. I excel at decorating trees.”

  Layla grinned. “Good, cause Uncle Joseph doesn’t cook very good. He burned our turkey on Thanksgiving.”

  Ginger laughed as she took Layla’s hand. “Then it’s a lucky thing we ran into each other today.”

  Layla grinned, and Ginger’s heart warmed. This is what Christmas should be about—making children happy. Not all this chasing after a doctor and plucking her eyebrows—yes, she had succumbed to Stella’s hounding. She should be preparing for Christmas back home.

  Her first sleigh ride was less than a month away. She needed some time in the big red sleigh to get a feel for how it handled. She’d been flying a smaller sled since she was eight, but the big one had a whole new set of aerodynamics. Handling eight reindeer would be an adjustment too. Then there was the deal with the winds. She’d played with them on and off last evening, but she needed to be up in the atmosphere to get a wind strong enough to push the sleigh along.

  “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” blared from Ginger’s pocket. She checked the caller ID and rolled her eyes. Lux must have hacked her phone to install a new ringtone. “You’re not subtle, you know that, right?” Ginger took Layla’s hand and used her hip to open the glass door. Their breath puffed in the grey light, and Layla pulled her arms close to her body. Ginger noted the brown gloves were much too big for the girl’s young hands.

  “What are you doing right now?” asked Lux.

  “Hangin’ out with my girl Layla.” Ginger winked and Layla grinned. “What are you doing?”

  “Monitoring Christmas levels. They just dropped by thirty percent.”

  “Is that worse than the other drops?” Ginger used her free hand to cover the phone and asked Layla, “Do you see Joseph?”

  Layla shrugged.

  Lux groaned. “Yes, it’s worse. What happened to meeting Dr. Husband?”

  “He’s delivering a baby.”

  “Go to him, then.” Ginger could picture Lux clasping her hands together and begging her to get this man nailed down so they could all head home in one happy sleigh ride. If this doctor turned out be a Doctor McMm-Mmm, she wanted some time alone with him before taking him back to meet her rather eccentric relatives.

  Ginger chewed her lip. “I can’t exactly crash a birth.”

  Joseph emerged from the Watering Hole, his hands tucked in his pockets and his head down. He didn’t seem to be in as big of a hurry as he was when he left, and Ginger hoped he’d had a moment to gather his wits. He might need them when he found out she was following him home to make cookies. Reaching into her magic bag, she pulled out a pair of purple gloves and handed them to Layla. “Here, put these on.”

  “What?” asked Lux.

  “Not you,” Ginger replied.

  Layla did as instructed, handing Ginger the gloves that obviously belonged to her uncle. Ginger stuck them in her bag, allowing the magic to warm them up and fix the small tear in the palm.

  “Wait, the levels are going back up. Did you find him?” Lux asked.

  “I told you, I am not going to interrupt labor and delivery.”

  Joseph stopped at the end of the wooden planking that ran the length of the post office. “Come on, Layla. We still have shopping to do, and I have to finish a couple chairs today.”

  Layla looked back and forth between her uncle and Ginger. “But—”

  “Hold on.” Ginger pulled the phone away from her ear and smiled. “I promised Layla I’d bake cookies with her.” Joseph’s jaw hardened, but Ginger plowed ahead. “She informed me that your tree was missing a few gingerbread men, and I assured her it wouldn’t take long to rectify the situation.”

  “Miss Krinkle?” asked a tall man standing at the other end of the decking.

  He’d gotten her name wrong, but Ginger wasn’t about to hold that against him—especially when he was greener than gift-wrap and nervous as a novice reindeer. “Yes?” Ginger asked as Layla took her hand.

  “My name is Quik. I live way up yonder in them hills.” He pointed to the mountain in the distance.

  Ginger smiled. Christmas Magic must be in her corner if Quik Nelson had found her! Turning on a little sauciness, Ginger gave him her full attention. “Well, I have to give you points for bravery. Surviving winter on your wit and strength is something to admire. What can I do for you, Mr. Nelson?”

  Blushing, he replied, “It’s not mister—it’s just Quik.”

  “Right.” Ginger held her smile. Nodding slightly, she encouraged him to continue. Lux huffed in her ear. Ginger pulled the phone down to her side. The last thing she needed was Lux critiquing her flirtations. Layla squeezed her hand, and Ginger glanced behind her at Joseph. He folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow.

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in homesteading with me?”

  Ginger nearly dropped her phone. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, I get the sense that you’re a hearty woman, and I’m looking for someone who can be in the cold, work hard, and live where few people ever go.” His bravery spent, Quik mumbled into his chest, “I don’t have much, but I’d give ya all that I have.”

  “Wait.” Ginger held up a hand. “You want me to move in with you?”

  Quik’s cheeks bloomed redder than ribbon. “No ma’am. I’ve two cabins—one would be yours and one would be mine, but we’d work together.”

  “Oh.” Ginger pondered his offer. “Could we go on a date or something first?”

  Quik shuffled his feet. “I’ve already spent too much time away. I’m headin’ out now, but I couldn’t leave without asking you first. You’re …” He scratched under his hat. “Well, you’re something amazing, Miss Krinkle.”

  Ginger pressed her hand with her phone over her heart. “Quik, that’s sweet of you to say.”

  Quik’s chin came up. “Then you’ll come?”

  Ginger closed the distance between them, Layla tagging along. Handing the girl her phone, she reached into her bag. Pulling out a bright red scarf—thick and warm, it smelled like molasses cookies—she kissed Quik’s cheek. “I can’t.” She wrapped the scarf around his neck, the color standing out against his black coat. As she got it in place, she noticed the scarf had the Kringle family crest on the end. Brushing her fingers over the cursive letter K surrounded by holly, she paused. Was this the magic’s way of saying this was her husband-to-be?

  Quik brushed the yarn with his gloved hand. His eyes filled with understanding and confidence. “You’re not meant to live the life I live.”

  Ginger stepped back. “No, I’m not. But I’m touched by your invitation.”

  The phrase an old soul hummed through Ginger’s mind. Quik was a good guy—a great guy—a thinker if ever there was one, who had the gift of discernment. Not unlike Ginger’s list radar, Quik could see things in people. His intelligence would have been a solid asset to the North Pole, but for some reason, Ginger couldn’t see herself with this man. Not that he wasn’t attractive in a rustic way, and those teddy-bear brown eyes were seriously engaging. There just wasn’t a
romantic connection. Ginger gulped.

  Quik stepped back. “I’ll wear it every day.” He pointed to his neck. “When you see this scarf, you know you’ll be seeing a friend.” He spun around, as if he’d used up all his words for the week and had to go.

  Ginger lifted her hand to wave. “Merry Christmas.”

  Quik didn’t respond, and she dropped her arms to her side, feeling as though she’d failed him in some way.

  “Hello!” Lux’s disembodied greeting came from someplace small. Ginger looked around for her sister before realizing they were still on a call. Layla held it out to her.

  “Oh, shoot. Lux?” she said into the phone.

  Joseph waved for his niece. Ginger held up one finger and pleaded with her eyes for him to wait. He stomped over the wood planks. Apparently waiting wasn’t one of his strong points.

  “Ginger, what are you doing?” Lux demanded.

  “I’m, I’m …” Ginger threw out her hand. “Standing here.”

  Joseph leaned against the porch rail and folded his arms. His bare hands were red and probably sore. Ginger pulled his warm and repaired gloves out of her purse and held them out. Joseph motioned for her to give them to Layla.

  Layla held up her new gloves, a grin splitting her face. “I like these ones.”

  Joseph lowered his eyebrows. “Where did you get those?”

  Layla smiled shyly at Ginger.

  “Here.” Ginger pushed the gloves closer to Joseph. Their fingers touched, and a zap of icy goodness flared through Ginger. She shivered—a new experience for her, since she was immune to changes in temperature. Their eyes met, and Ginger suddenly felt like she was taking a nosedive in the sleigh.

  Lux squeaked. “The numbers are all over the place. They have to be going nuts at the Pole. I need you here, Ginger, I can’t keep up with the—”

  Joseph raised his eyebrows and glanced at her phone. Panicked that he’d heard too much already, Ginger cut Lux off before she could give more away. “Hang on!” Tucking the phone behind her back, she smiled sweetly at Joseph, pointedly ignoring Lux’s continued pleas for her to come home. Joseph was taller than her, but only by about four inches. Perfect kissing height. Feeling her cheeks grow warm at the thought—another new experience—Ginger hoped Doctor Patrick Greggory Scott was tall. She focused on Layla. Layla was safe. Layla didn’t make things go zap. “Are you ready?” she asked.