by Jenny Hale
“I need shoes in a size ten for kids. Do you have anything?” she asked Cheryl.
Cheryl hurried over to the wall of shoes and pulled down an armful. “Which ones do you want?”
“All of them,” Charlie said. “Do we know Ms. Farmer’s shoe size?” he asked.
“Janie?” Scarlett looked at her phone. “Yes, she said. My dad was able to peek at them by the door. He says Janie wears a size six.”
“Perfect. Get her whatever you think she needs.”
They got everything wrapped and paid for at the counter, then carried the armloads of gifts to the truck, squeezing them behind the front seats and in the floor of the vehicle—anywhere they’d fit. Then she and Charlie thanked Cheryl and headed off to Toy Land, the small shop owned by Ato’s brother Waya. His name meant “wolf” in Cherokee, which was a fitting name for a man with a thick, long crop of gray hair and a beard to match, his almond eyes consuming his other features. He’d have been intimidating were it not for the warmest smile that spread across his face the minute he saw a friend, and the guffaws of laughter that escaped from the very bottom of his broad belly whenever he told a joke, which was all the time.
During Scarlett’s phone conversation with Waya earlier, he’d offered to donate a few extra gifts for little Trevor. When they arrived at the shop, he was waiting for them outside, towering above them in his fur-lined boots and thick down coat.
“I’d heard the child is looking for Santa Claus,” he said, his umber eyes creased at the edges. “I’ll do my best to make sure he finds him.” He opened the door wide to allow them to enter the shop.
Scarlett led Charlie over to the train sets, Waya following along behind them. She checked the price tag on a large one with sixteen individual train cars and a village to go with it. Entirely too expensive for only the first gift, she dropped the tag and turned toward a smaller set.
“What’s wrong with this one?” Charlie asked, pointing to the larger set.
“It’s a lot of money. It might be better to spread out the cost over lots of gifts since we don’t know exactly what he likes.”
“I can drop the price a little,” Waya offered.
“You don’t have to do that,” Charlie cut in. “If you think he’d like the big one, then get it. Cost is no problem.”
“That’s very kind,” Scarlett told him. “But it might not be practical anyway. How would we get it to White Oaks?”
Charlie fell silent as he considered this. Then, he regarded Waya. “Wait,” he said, the word coming out slowly as he solidified the thought. “Trevor is looking for Santa Claus…” He and Waya shared a look of understanding that was lost on Scarlett for a moment, and then she realized what they were both thinking. “Do you know where we can get a Santa suit in about four hours, Waya?” Charlie asked.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said, before bobbing up and down with a belly laugh. “Leave it to me.”
They continued choosing toys, Waya dismantling the displays and piling boxes onto the counter. Charlie handed him a credit card and refused to let Waya pay for any of it, despite his offer to contribute.
With the shopping finished, they left the toys in Waya’s care and headed back to the truck to return to the inn, so they could get the rest of the presents under the tree.
“We have a minute to grab a coffee,” Charlie said to Scarlett as they noticed that Love and Coffee was still open. “Maybe this time I can drink it all.” He grinned at her, giving her the fluttery feeling that was becoming the norm whenever she was with him.
“I’d love to,” she said.
Once they’d gotten settled at a table inside the coffee shop, their cold hands wrapped around warm mugs, Scarlett relaxed. The atmosphere and his kind eyes calmed her. She leaned back in the chair, letting her shoulders unwind, the twinkling of the Christmas tree in the corner and her view of all the gifts through the window, outside in the truck, making her feel festive. Then something occurred to her. She asked Charlie, “If you didn’t go home when you were in school, what did you do for Christmas?” She was genuinely curious. Her Christmases were so full of family, so many memories made, that she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Charlie on his own. “Did you get a tree?”
He shook his head. “I just didn’t celebrate it. I have magical memories of it when I was little, and sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to continue to have those moments, but they were lost along with the rest of my childhood.”
“You should have Christmas with us,” she offered. Gran probably wouldn’t like the idea of it too much, but Scarlett couldn’t stand the thought that he’d be alone yet another year during the most wonderful time for family and friends.
“No, I really shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one, Ms. Farmer and her son Trevor will be there, and I’d rather not ruin their Christmas. They deserve it more than I do. And I wouldn’t want to impose on your family.”
“You’re not just sitting in your room at White Oaks, and you definitely shouldn’t be all the way out at Amos’s. I couldn’t enjoy my Christmas knowing that.”
“The roof should be patched by the end of the evening. Don’t worry about me. I’ll start a fire, make myself a whiskey on ice, and read a book I’ve been wanting to start.” He drummed his fingers on the table casually.
She wanted to make a gesture to let him know that she cared for him, so Scarlett reached over and put her hand on his, stilling his fingers. Without saying a word, he seemed to understand her intent, consideration flooding his face. She wound her fingers over his knuckles, yearning for him to reciprocate. Every time they’d had the possibility to move into that different realm, he’d pulled back. She begged him with her eyes not to this time. Slowly, he turned his hand over under hers, locking their fingers. He caressed the palm of her hand with his thumb, making her swallow, suddenly feeling like a schoolgirl across from her first crush.
His jaw clenched, as he seemed to be looking for the right words. He took a quiet breath, and Scarlett waited eagerly to hear what was on his mind. Their hands still linked, he said, “I’m not prepared to begin anything like this.”
The chance she felt they had slid away, but she understood his hesitation. When she’d first started to feel something for Charlie, she’d experienced a similar sense of caution, having experienced heartbreak in her past relationships. She didn’t feel that way now, but at the time, no one could’ve convinced her otherwise. This was something Charlie had to work through, and Scarlett had no idea how long that might take him, if he came around at all.
He let go of her grasp and pulled his hand back.
“Why not?” she pressed, trying to keep the disappointment from showing. “I wouldn’t ask anything of you that you aren’t ready to give.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve spent most of my adult life making a mess of things. I need to learn how to be the person I want to be in life before I can be trusted with someone’s heart.” He tipped his head to the side, regret flooding his face, clearly aware of the fact that he was causing her sadness. She wasn’t able to hide it anymore. “I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you,” he admitted.
“How do you know you will?”
“I don’t know that I won’t, and until I can figure everything out, I can’t risk it.”
“You sure you can’t at least come for Christmas?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He gave her a sad smile. “But you’ll have to tell me all about the looks on Ms. Farmer’s and Trevor’s faces when they see the gifts, okay?”
She nodded, her heart aching for him.
“I’m so relieved Janie had a clean bill of health,” Gran said, as she held on to Scarlett’s arm on their way into the living room. “I can’t believe what you’ve done for them. They’re going to be overjoyed, I’m certain.”
“It wasn’t me, Gran. It was Charlie. But he refuses to take credit for it.”
Gran’s eyebrows rose in thought, but she
didn’t say anything.
Scarlett had sent a quick text to Waya to let him know they were all there. Then she’d told everyone what they’d planned. Riley and Mason were already asleep, still tired from the party the night before, so tonight was just for little Trevor and his mother. They’d all gathered in the grand living room and told Janie they had a Christmas surprise for her. When Scarlett and Gran walked into the room, Trevor was sitting eagerly on the sofa, to his mother’s side.
Once they were all comfortable, Aunt Beth passed out hot chocolate with peppermint sticks and marshmallows, the tree glistening, the presents now spilling out from under it.
A loud knock came from the front entryway. “I’ll get it,” Scarlett said, taking her hot chocolate with her. When she opened the door, her eyes grew along with the laughter that threatened to escape from her lips, but she held it back. Waya was wearing a Santa hat, his gray hair curled into ringlets around it, his beard styled the same way. He had on his black boots, red velvet trousers with enormous white fur cuffs, and a matching red fur coat that hung loosely without the traditional belt, a Hawaiian shirt peeking out from underneath it.
He caught her looking at it. “I’m a bit tan for the part,” he said. “Been delivering to the kids in the islands.” He winked at her.
They both had a good laugh.
Sitting beside his feet in the snow was an enormous burlap bag full of all the toys they’d picked out. “Showtime,” he said, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder. “Ho ho ho!” he called deeply, as he walked past her and into the living room.
“Is that Trevor Farmer over there on the sofa?” he asked, lobbing the bag onto the floor. A small motor from one of the toy cars growled inside and Trevor’s eyes lit up.
“Yes, sir,” he said, breathless. As Waya moved closer, Trevor’s little brows pulled together, showing his confusion. “You don’t look like the pictures, Santa,” he said.
“Nah, they never get it right,” Waya said. “And I’m not very photogenic… Plus, I don’t set them straight as to what I really look like because it helps to keep my identity a secret.” He pulled the bag over to Trevor. “I heard you were looking for me. Want to know another secret?” He leaned in closer. “Your mom actually found where I live when I’m not at the North Pole.” He whispered, “She was right. Always trust her.” He winked at Janie, whose eyes were already glistening with emotion. “You see, I have a toy store in town, and I go by a pretend name so no one will know it’s really me.”
“What is the name you go by?” Trevor asked in awe.
“Waya.”
The little boy gasped.
“So you’ll have to keep the secret, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
Waya opened his bag and pulled out the toy truck, handing it to Trevor. “What do you think of this?”
“It’s the best present ever! Thank you,” he said, alternating between hugging it and inspecting all the buttons. “You have a lot of other toys to deliver to the kids…” Trevor looked at Waya’s bag.
“Well, I do, but their bags are in my sleigh. This is your bag.”
Trevor’s eyes doubled in size, his cheeks flushing. “Mine?”
“Every single toy.”
Gran handed a box of tissues to Janie, her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked around at everyone, clearly trying to figure out who was responsible for all this.
Waya began pulling out the toys, one by one, setting them up for Trevor, taking them out of the boxes, and showing him how they all worked. There were drawing kits and puzzles, science experiments, a microscope, a toy movie projector, the giant train set, an entire town’s worth of cars and trucks with a mat that had a road painted on it, modeling clay, and even an archeology kit with plastic bones hidden in blocks of sand, to name a few.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Janie said to Waya through her fingers.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I’m just the messenger. You’ll have to talk to my elves.” He grinned at her and she looked around the room. Gran pointed to Scarlett.
“I’d like to talk later,” Janie said quietly to Scarlett.
“Of course.”
“We’d love you two to join us for our family’s Christmas morning tomorrow,” Gran said to Janie. “You both have quite a few gifts under the tree.”
“This is like a dream,” Janie said, her voice breaking. “After what we’ve been through, it gives me hope that things can get better.”
“Things can always get better,” Gran said. “As long as we’re here to help each other. That’s all we need.”
“May I take a few photos of you and Trevor tonight?” Scarlett asked.
She wanted to have something to show Charlie. She’d already decided that she wasn’t going to let him spend tomorrow alone. After everyone had opened their presents, she planned to visit him, and she wanted to bring him photos so he could see how Janie reacted to his generosity.
“Of course,” Janie said.
Scarlett started snapping away: Janie’s sniffly laughter, a balled tissue in her hands, Trevor on his knees, pushing his truck across the floor. Waya in that hilarious Santa outfit… This Christmas was turning out to be one of Scarlett’s favorites.
Sixteen
Time had slipped away from Scarlett as she lay in her bed, letting the events over the holiday settle in her mind. The smell of Christmas morning casseroles and the hum of her family whirled around outside her bedroom door, but her thoughts hadn’t caught up to the festivities just yet. This Christmas had turned out to be such a wonderful surprise, and the last thing Scarlett wanted was for the trouble with the inn to ruin everything. Tomorrow, they’d all tell Gran that they were selling White Oaks, and Scarlett had nothing to offer yet in terms of options. She hadn’t been able to even come close to broaching the subject with Charlie.
This morning, the joy that surrounded her once she was with her family would be bittersweet. She’d try not to linger on the fact that this was the last time they’d all be together for the holiday, the final moments in a history at the inn that spanned her entire lifetime. They’d have no say regarding what happened to the inn. Would it sit in disrepair until someone bought it? Would it be leveled for something more modern—centuries of stories evaporating into the air as the boards crashed down into a pile of rubble? Scarlett shuddered.
She got up, drew her brush through her hair, and padded into the en suite bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Then she put on her red and green Christmas sweater and a pair of jeans, and headed out to see her family.
Riley and Mason ran over to her, both talking at the same time, showing her what they’d gotten from Santa last night.
“Neither of them believe that Trevor actually met Santa Claus,” Aunt Alice said, as she stood in her Christmas tree leggings and poinsettia sweater, her hands wrapped around a cup of Christmas spice tea. “But I hear he was, in fact, in town.”
“That’s true,” Uncle Joe joined in from behind his reading glasses. He held the instructions for some sort of toy in his hand and had been diligently scanning the steps for setting it up. “I’ve heard of others who have seen him in this area. They say he’s always around.”
“He was on vacation but now he’s here,” Trevor said, as if it were totally regular information, not even looking up from his toy truck.
Later that night, Waya had told Trevor that he’d been resting up for the big night in the Bahamas, and that was how he’d gotten his tan, as well as his souvenir shirt that stood out loudly from under his fur coat. He’d said he’d nearly gotten his gray hair braided in cornrows, but he was worried the reindeer wouldn’t recognize him. That was when Scarlett had cut him off—before the story got so outlandish that if Trevor ever told his friends, they would think he’d dreamed it all.
“While the whole family is in one place,” Gran said, using her hands to steady herself as she stood up from her chair, Stitches hopping down from her lap, disturbing Archie who’d curle
d up by her feet, “I have something for each of you.” She pointed under the tree at a pile of silver packages. “Scarlett, dear, would you pass those out? Hand one to everyone—they’re all the same.”
Janie crawled out of the room beside Trevor as he pushed his new car across the floor, and Scarlett grabbed a couple of the silver gifts, each one tied with white and silver ribbons. She handed one to her dad before kissing him good morning on the cheek. Then she gave one to Aunt Beth and another to Aunt Alice. As she continued, Gran went to the middle of the room to address them.
“Remember in the storm last summer when we lost the old oak tree in the back garden?”
“Oh, I was devastated,” Aunt Beth said, putting her hand to her chest, the gift balancing on her knees. “It had to have been at least three hundred years old.”
“At least.” Gran nodded in agreement. “It held the baby swing that Scarlett used as a toddler, and later the rope swing all my grandkids adored climbing, and then finally the porch swing that overlooked the valley. I used to sit out there for hours as the sun went down behind the mountain.”
“I loved to prop my feet up on the pillows you had out there,” Scarlett reminisced. “I’d tip my head back and read all the messages that couples had carved into it. The trunk was full of whittled hearts and initials.” She could still see the pattern of it if she closed her eyes.
“Yes, dear. I remember. All messages of love.” Gran took stock of the family. “Does everyone have their gift?” Once she determined that they’d all gotten one, she said, “Open them now and I’ll explain.”
Scarlett untied the ribbons and tore the paper from her gift, revealing a beautifully crafted wooden picture frame. She ran her hand along the grains of wood that were encased in the high gloss of the frame.
When the others had opened theirs, Gran said, “Each of these frames was made from the oak tree. When you all get home, I’d like you to fill the frame with a photograph of your best family memory at White Oaks, and I’d like to hang them as a gallery in the main hallway.”
