Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas

by Juliet Blackwell

  “Okay.” She picked up Madison’s coat from the floor where Madison had dropped it when she and Piper had come roaring in. “Put on your coat and scarf. Let’s go.”

  “Christy, wait,” Dan started.

  She held up a hand. “Not now.”

  “We need to talk. All of us. And you and me.”

  She ignored him as she zipped Madison’s parka and wrapped her scarf around her neck. “Madison, apologize to Piper.”

  Her voice was muffled by the layers. “I’m sorry I told you Santa isn’t real.”

  Christy donned her own coat and stuffed her binder and papers into her tote. She looked at Dan and Piper, but she didn’t know what to say as she put her hand on Madison’s shoulder and nudged her toward the doors.

  Once again, Christmas had knocked her flat with ridiculous expectations and impossible fantasies. One thing was certain. She’d never get sucked in again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dan spent hours consoling Piper, finally slipping her some melatonin in a doll’s teacup filled with apple juice. She’d eaten a few bites of custard, but refused everything else. Considering that he ran a bakery with an impressive arsenal of goodies at his disposal, that proved how upset she was. Once he got her pajamas on and the melatonin down her, he sat beside her on the sofa, one hand on her back, past being mad.

  He didn’t need anger. He needed to fix things, and he didn’t know how. He couldn’t make Santa real the way Piper wanted him to be—hell, the way he wanted him to be. He didn’t have the first idea how to help Christy get over being furious with the girls. Or to forgive her parents. Or to give him a chance to woo her without the girls helping. The only thing he could fix was the blasted holiday show, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

  When Piper finally yawned, he scooped her up and carried her to her room.

  “Do you want a story?” he asked as he tucked her in.

  “No.” She opened her blue eyes wide and fought off a yawn. “Daddy, why did you lie about Santa?”

  He sat down on the edge of her bed. “That’s hard to answer, elf.”

  “Try.”

  He searched for something that would make sense and be honest. “Maybe because deep down in my heart, I really believe in Santa. In a wonderful, magical spirit who loves all children and devotes everything he’s got to making people happy.”

  “But he’s not real.”

  “The guy in the red suit might not be real, but there’s more to Santa than reindeer and stockings full of toys. There’s something real there. There’s a spirit that’s both in people and bigger than all of us. It’s so strong and powerful it inspires millions of people to dream up all kinds of interesting stories. It inspires people to give not just toys and new clothes, but gifts from their hearts. I mean, hey, I’m Jewish. My family didn’t do Christmas. I started out wishing there really was a Santa, and my mother was horrified.”

  Piper perked up a little. “Nana?”

  “Yep. We had this exact discussion, only the other way around. My parents never pretended there was any such thing as Santa. They had no interest in Christmas. None. Ever. It was all about Hanukah all the time. Then I came home from school in the first grade and told them about this amazing guy in a red suit who visited other kids and left presents. And I knew he was real. The world just seemed to click once I learned about Santa Claus.”

  “But he’s not real,” Piper said.

  “There are different ways of being real.”

  Piper frowned and closed her eyes. “Not really.”

  “Good one.” He poked her in the ribs, through the covers so it didn’t hurt. She grinned with her eyes still shut. “Is the wind real?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I feel it. I see what it does.”

  “True. So there’s real but invisible. How about feelings? Are those real?”

  Her eyes opened again. “Yeah.”

  “Like how you felt when Madison told you Santa was parents. You couldn’t see it, but your whole body felt it, right?”

  She nodded.

  “So there are things that are real that only you can feel. Things no one else might see or feel at all. It’s a surprising fact of life that it can be hard to define what’s real and what’s not.”

  “So you think Santa is real?”

  “I know Santa is real. I also know he isn’t exactly like all the ideas and stories we have about him. I’m not always sure exactly what he’s like. But I feel him. He taught me not only what Christmas is about—me, a Jewish kid from Brooklyn—but about life. He taught me about my religion, which while it doesn’t have Christmas, created the ideas that Christmas grew out of. He taught me about giving, and that one of the greatest joys in life is making someone else’s life better. That’s real, Piper.”

  “But you’re Santa in our house.”

  “Yep. And that won’t stop even though you know. I represent Santa in our house. You’ll represent Santa in your house when you grow up.” He thought about what she and Madison had been doing. “I think you have innate Santa potential.”

  “How come?”

  “You and Madison trying to fix me and her mom up.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” She sighed. “That was sort of selfish, though. We wanted to be sisters. And have both a mom and a dad. And her house is huge. And pretty. She has a wooden fort and swings in the back yard.”

  “You might have been sort of selfish. But your instincts are good. I really like Madison’s mom. You picked someone I might have picked myself. But I think we have to leave her alone now. She’s not happy with us.”

  “I know.”

  He might be able to make Piper feel better about that. “I have a little secret Santa project of my own.”

  Piper snapped right out of a huge yawn. “What is it?”

  “You know Britney, the waitress at the diner who’s going to have twins?”

  Piper nodded.

  “She doesn’t have any family, and she’s only nineteen. I don’t know what her dreams are, but I bet she has some. It can be pretty hard to follow dreams when you have two babies to take care of at that age. I’ve been thinking Santa would want someone to help her.”

  “Can we help her?”

  He liked hearing that ‘we.’ “I think so."

  “Could we take one of the babies so she won’t be so busy?”

  Dan grinned. “You really want a sister or brother that much?”

  “I do.”

  “Noted. But offering to take someone’s baby is kind of presumptuous. I was thinking more in terms of setting up a little college fund that she could use when she decides what she wants to do. It’s not a huge amount, but I’ve got a little bit tucked away that could see her through college if she doesn’t go somewhere expensive.”

  “We could tell her it’s from Santa.”

  “That’s perfect.”

  “And give it to her on Christmas.”

  “See? You’re a natural at this.”

  Piper’s mouth curved into a sweet smile with no hint of the disappointment she’d suffered.

  He kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet pea.”

  “G’night, Daddy.”

  Now if only he could bring Christy around, Christmas might not be so fraught this year. Too bad he had no idea how to talk her into giving him a chance without any aid from their daughters.

  ***

  It had been one of the longest weeks in her life, and all Christy wanted to do was curl up by the fire in her bedroom with a glass of wine and a historical novel set far away in time and place from Snow Creek. How lovely to have a staff to hand Madison off to. And perhaps a troubadour to take over the holiday show. And definitely a knight or ninja to make sure Dan Rose never spoke to her again so she wouldn’t have to figure out how to handle what had gone beyond annoying into an uncomfortable, embarrassing mess.

  Instead, as soon as they were home, Christy told Madison to change clothes while she put a po
t of soup on the stove and made a salad. By the time she’d set the kitchen table, Madison had slunk into her chair, looking as grim as Christy felt.

  “I need a drink,” Christy said.

  “Me, too.” Madison sighed.

  Christy opened the refrigerator and got the chocolate syrup off the highest shelf. “Chocolate milk?”

  “A big glass,” Madison said.

  She took two of the biggest tumblers out of the cupboard, poured them full of milk, then upended the chocolate syrup and stirred. “Tell me when.”

  “Seriously?” Madison perked up.

  “This will only happen once in your lifetime, so enjoy it.”

  “Keep going.” The milk turned darker and darker. “Keep going—keep going—keep going—stop!”

  Christy pushed the glass across the island and poured chocolate into her own milk until it looked exactly like Madison’s. Then she clinked her glass to Madison’s. “Merry Christmas, chickadee. It can’t get much worse, so here’s to hoping we get through the holiday show without any more tears.”

  They drank deeply, and Christy decided chocolate milk was not a bad substitute for wine even if it was so sweet it made her tongue curl.

  Madison put down her glass and wiped her milk moustache with the back of her hand. For once, Christy didn’t remind her to use a napkin.

  “It could get worse,” Madison said thoughtfully. “Everybody could forget the words to all their songs. And Dr. Joe’s sheep could poop on the stage. Then throw up, too.”

  “That would be worse.” Christy took another sip. “And the Babies Jesus could cry the whole time in the manger.”

  “And poop, too, so the kids pass out from the smell.”

  She fought a grin. “Enough about poop.”

  “Vampires could come. And werewolves. And turn the Babies Jesus into twin vampire werewolves.”

  “Also worse, with points for horror and blasphemy,” Christy conceded. She appreciated Madison trying to cheer her up. “Never repeat that outside this house, okay?”

  “I know. It’s a sack of ridges.”

  She finally smiled. “That’s ‘sacrilegious.’”

  Madison frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. Madison, why did you and Piper try to set me and her dad up? Honestly.”

  Madison ran her finger around the base of her glass and didn’t say a word. Christy waited, wondering what was going through her six-year-old mind.

  “We wanted to be sisters,” Madison finally said.

  “You like her that much?”

  She pushed her chocolate milk away. “Yeah. We thought it would be more fun to have a bigger family, and you’re so nice, and her dad’s so nice, we thought you guys might like it, too. But I think I ruined everything.”

  At the wistful regret in Madison’s delivery, Christy let some of her anger subside. She and Piper were little girls. There was a lot they didn’t understand. Nevertheless, their fantasy of two families becoming one, attended by Santa Claus and Christmas magic, was gone forever. It hurt. Christy knew all about that.

  What would she have wanted her mother to do all those years ago? Not lie. Even if the truth was hard.

  Christy put down her glass and went to Madison. She gathered her up in her arms and lifted her from her stool. “Oh, honey. Life is full of disappointments. We all make mistake after mistake, and that’s the way things are designed. We make mistakes, and we learn how to do things better. How to be kinder. More respectful of other people. We learn what matters most to us, and to honor that. We learn that other people make mistakes and we feel better about ourselves when we learn to forgive them.”

  “Will Piper forgive me?”

  “Yes, I’m sure she will. You have to give her a little time.”

  “Will you forgive me?”

  An image of Christy’s mother rose in her mind and a tangled knot of awkward feelings choked off an immediate answer.

  “Mom?” Madison sounded panicky.

  Christy nodded against her daughter’s head as her eyes filled with tears. “Of course,” she whispered, and as soon as she said it, it was true. “I forgive you, chickadee. I love you forever, and I will always forgive you. Promise me something, though.”

  “What?”

  Christy set her a little away so she could look into her pretty eyes. She remembered when she had been six and her mother had held her. It hadn’t lasted. “When you’re older, and I do things that make you want to never forgive me, promise you’ll give me a chance.”

  Madison threw herself into Christy’s embrace. “Always, Mama.”

  Christy held on tight and knew what she had to do as far as her mother was concerned. Dan, however, was another matter. She had no clue what to do there. She could only handle one Christmas debacle at a time.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Cripes, it had only been a week since Madison had painted Piper’s hair, launching them all on the whirlwind ride that had left him smitten with a woman who didn’t ever want to see him again, and Piper’s vision of Christmas shattered. Piper would recover, though he wished she’d had a couple of more years of believing in Santa—red suit, North Pole, reindeer, elves and the ho-ho-whole shebang. He was annoyed with Christy for not even trying to keep Madison believing, but that was her call. As for Madison over-sharing, well, Piper had done her share of that, too. Kids screwed up. Hell, everybody screwed up. There seemed to be a lot of that going around this Christmas.

  He couldn’t stop wondering if there was any way he could talk Christy out of shutting him out completely, the way she had her mother. She’d gone so cold when the girls admitted they’d been trying to throw the two of them together. He might have, too, except that in this instance, he thought the kids were onto something good. Great, even. And he was man enough to admit he’d never have talked to Christy if the girls hadn’t forced her into the bakery.

  At one o’clock, he got up, turned on the old baby monitor he used to keep an ear open for Piper, and went downstairs. He needed to bake. He’d make something gluten-free and take it as a peace offering when he showed up for his appointment later. He hoped Christy wouldn’t conveniently cancel it. If she did, he’d go anyway. In the meantime, he had hours to figure out what to say.

  He got out the gluten-free bread starter he’d created last Sunday and fiddled around with a stöllen recipe until he thought it would rise decently. He left the dough to proof, then mixed up a gluten-free chocolate sponge cake for a Bûche de Noël. He’d fill it with salted caramel mousse and cover it with dark chocolate ganache, milk chocolate ‘bark,’ and meringue mushrooms. Maybe a marzipan elf or two. Okay, one. He didn’t want to overdo it, but Madison would like the elf. Oh, what the hell, he’d better make it two so there was one for Piper, too, because if this worked, he hoped they’d all be sharing the bûche.

  Making the bûche gave him plenty of time to think. As he whipped the eggs and sugar for the genoise, he considered how certain he was that he and Christy would be good together. While folding the gluten-free flour mix and cocoa into the eggs, he acknowledged that he might be jumping the gun.

  He watched the cake carefully for the ten minutes it was in the oven. The one short kiss he’d shared with Christy played over and over in his mind. He could feel it all over again. The only thing he’d ever felt as strongly was the protective, parental love he felt for Piper, and that was completely different.

  The cake rose gently and evenly in the jelly roll pan. Was he in love with Christy? More importantly, did he love her in a way that could withstand trouble and triumphs alike? Already? Was that even possible?

  He hadn’t believed in love at first sight. Lust at first sight, sure. But from the moment he’d set eyes on Christy when she was herding Madison to the counter at the bakery on Saturday morning, she hadn’t been out of his thoughts for five minutes. When she left, he wanted her to come right back. When she wasn’t there, he tucked away things to tell her. When s
he looked at him, even if she was annoyed, he had to think about rusty bolts and curdled frosting to keep himself in check. He wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t been craving doughnuts, his chief downfall. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to make her gluten-free baked goods, and he wanted to make sure she and Madison were as safe and happy as he could make them. Most of all, he wanted to give her Christmas back, even though she didn’t think she wanted it. He wanted her to know she was worth fuss and bother and love. And honesty.

  The cake came out perfectly, and didn’t crack when he rolled it up in a linen towel to cool. He frowned at it. A gluten-free bûche was a nice gesture, but it didn’t really capture what he wanted to convey. Words would be required. And actions. Consistently respectful, honest words and actions to match. He figured he had until the holiday show. After that, if he hadn’t convinced her…it wouldn’t be such a merry Christmas.

  Trouble was, he didn’t know what to do. As he made the fillings for the bûche he thought as hard as the Grinch when he paused at the top of Mount Crumpet, complete with scowls and grimaces. Gradually, as he made caramel for the buttercream filling, ganache for the topping, and glued meringue mushroom caps and bases together with melted chocolate, he came up with a plan. He wasn’t sure it was a good plan. It was risky, but thawing a snow queen’s heart required just the right amount of shock and heat. It could blow up in his face, but that would leave him in no worse shape than he was already. Yeah, Christy might hate him, but hate was closer to love than indifference. He could work with hate, he thought as he positioned the last mushroom and the two marzipan elves, which he’d decided to make look like him and Christy, complete with mistletoe—subtlety wasn’t his style—on the completed bûche.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Friday morning, Christy considered not going to the office, or at least disappearing at noon when Dan was scheduled for his appointment. But she couldn’t be such a chicken. She would be professional. And quick. Besides, she needed to lay out the rules for how they could get through the holiday show without inflicting anymore wounds.