Santa's Last Gift

by Sandine Tomas

  “Yeah. I just….”

  “What?” Seb urged.

  “I love this.” He waved his arms. “Not just the choir, but all the holiday stuff. Moving the elf around, visiting the Santa workshop, making the ornaments every year. I pull them out sometimes in the summer to remember one Row or Chance made and what they looked like as they worked on them. I stay over on Christmas Eve so I can see the girls open their gifts in the morning.” He ducked his head. “I know you think it’s stupid.”

  “I don’t think that. Don’t say that.”

  Matty’s reply was a wan smile that barely reached his eyes.

  As the music resumed, Seb couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander. He had one week to fix this.

  THE following day’s spaghetti dinner was very different from their first one. A solemn unspoken tension had settled over everyone.

  The slurping sound Rowen made was so contrary to her usual concentrated eating style that Steph laughed even as she was correcting her. Rowen pouted before smiling herself. Her paper napkin was covered in red and Seb couldn’t help but feel the fondness as Matty handed her one of several he’d stockpiled for this eventuality.

  At the table’s head, his mom caught Seb taking in the unconscious transaction with a small nod. Matty struck his palm on the table, gaining everyone’s attention. “Doesn’t Uncle Seb make the best meatballs?”

  There was instant agreement and Seb couldn’t help feeling his cheeks warm.

  “Reminds me of Dad’s,” Steph said.

  Mom reached over and squeezed Steph’s hand before asking who wanted seconds.

  Later, when everyone had their fill, Mom announced they’d be having a special dessert. Chance jumped at that. “What, Grandma?”

  “I picked up Gertie’s special Yule log cake.”

  “Yeah? Oh wow. I haven’t had that in—” Seb cut himself off at the dull stares everyone was giving his mom. He quirked an eyebrow at Stephanie.

  His sister addressed the girls. “We didn’t want you to miss it just because you’ll be with your daddy on Christmas Eve.”

  Rowen spun her head first at her mother and then her grandmother, mouth opening in a wide O. “But that’s when Santa comes.”

  Seb felt the meatballs like lead in his stomach.

  Matty replied, “Santa will find you no matter where you are. You know that, Row.” And just like that Seb realized that this was a conversation that Matty must have had multiple times since they’d been informed they’d be spending Christmas with their father. Probably Steph had as well.

  The Yule log had been his family’s Christmas Eve tradition. Beanie’s wasn’t a bakery per se, but there was always an array of muffins and scones, and during the holidays one could special order Gertie’s Yule log. The red and green piped icing looked exactly as he remembered. Swirls of chocolate frosting spun along the vanilla cake inside, like rings on a tree. Compared to the confections his caterers whipped up, multitiered extravaganzas mimicking everything from the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center to, for one peculiar client, Alcatraz, the simple tube-shaped cake wasn’t complex, yet he had to blink back tears when looking at it.

  After dessert, everyone rose to clear their plates. Frowning at the pileup in the sink, Steph said, “I know you cooked, so I should clean, but I need to finish getting the girls packed for tomorrow morning.”

  Seb waved her away. “No worries. I got it.”

  Matty stepped close. “I’ll help. You and Ma take care of the girls.” Something soft and sad passed between his sister and Matty, and Seb felt the helplessness like a current under his skin.

  Working together, they rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Seb hand-washed the stemware they’d used with wine during dinner as Matty dried and put them back in the cupboard. Afterward, Matty paced along the counter for several moments before leaning on it with his back to Seb, drumming his fingers staccato-like over the granite surface. Matty’d stripped down to a T-shirt when they’d started cleanup, and Seb watched the muscles on Matty’s back bunch. It took a moment before he realized Matty’s shoulders were trembling.

  Heart pounding, he questioned, “Matty…?”

  Swinging an arm behind himself, Matty kept Seb at bay. “No… I… dammit.” Seb couldn’t see his face. “I have to keep it together for the family.”

  Coming up from behind, Seb wrapped his arms around Matty’s waist, resting his head on the crook of his shoulder and placing a tender kiss on his neck as Matty brought his hand up to cradle Seb’s cheek. “I know they’ll be back,” he said through a clogged throat. “It’s just a couple of weeks. I know they aren’t mine.”

  Seb spun him around so he could meet his wet, gold eyes. “They are yours. You are their dad just as much as Ryan.” He tugged until he had Matty in his arms. Being held made Matty’s muscles twitch, as if he’d been filled with bees. “I’m sorry,” Seb said. Seeing Matty’s struggle to not break down, Seb almost mentioned his plan…. But he couldn’t be positive he could pull it off, and if he mentioned it now and it didn’t happen, it would only hurt Matty worse for giving him false hope.

  His natural restlessness taking over, Matty pulled back. “They’re your nieces too. It sucks you can’t spend Christmas with them.”

  “It does,” Seb agreed.

  Matty nodded, then looked at a spot over Seb’s shoulder, jaw twitching as if bracing himself. “I’ll still be spending Christmas with Ma and Steph. That… that’s okay, right?”

  Well that was a stupid question. “Of course.” He curled his lip. “And me?”

  He must have taken the right tone because Matty’s eyes slid into that shining honey color he adored. “And you.”

  IT had taken the better part of a week but Seb felt as accomplished as if he’d planned an inaugural ball. He was running out of time now and needed reinforcements. “I thought this vacation was supposed to be relaxing, Chesnut. I’m tired just hearing what you’ve been up to this past week.” Lacey called him by his surname when she was blaming him for something, except she was wrong, because this situation was not of his making.

  “I know, but I had to do something. It’s been awful since my nieces left.” He wiped his free hand over his chin. In the five days since that horrible Sunday, his mom and sister had kept the shop open late each night and Matty had disappeared into his workshop. Having something to do had been a blessing. “Steph explained the custody settlement years ago. But I didn’t realize that this would be the year that Ryan would get the girls for Christmas,” he explained. “You don’t know what’s it’s doing to my mom and Steph.” And Matty.

  “I get it. What can I do?”

  He blanched. Christmas Eve was tomorrow. Lacey was good but…. The truth was he feared he’d run out of time. Nonetheless he told her what he needed.

  She whistled. “Rochester, eh? I may know some folks. Text me the address and let me see what I can do.”

  Mentally fist-pumping, Seb thanked her.

  “No problem… you did the heavy lifting. This trip has done you well. I love everything I’m hearing. Enjoy your family. Leave the rest to me and my elves.” With a silver laugh, she ended the call.

  Sighing, Seb sat back on his bed, nothing to do now but trust Lacey to get things together when the time came. It wasn’t everything, but maybe it would be enough. Watching Matty hug the girls goodbye on Sunday had been like a knife to his heart. He’d offered his company every day since, but each time Matty said he needed to work on his art for the charity auction. And even though it had only been a few days, he missed him terribly. How had he gotten his heart in so deep in just a few weeks? The Stephanie voice spoke up again.

  Three weeks and ten years, bro.

  Yeah. Well, shut up.

  The knock on his bedroom door startled him, and he shoved his cell phone back in his pocket. “Come in.”

  Steph stood red-eyed in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her, holding the edges of an old worn cardigan closed.

  “Wanna come do
wn and watch The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Seb forced a smile. The film was one of their holiday rituals when they were young, a favorite of their father’s. He followed her downstairs.

  Settling into the sofa, she leaned against his side. “I’m worried about Matt. He refused to come over.”

  “I asked if he wanted me to come to his house. He said he’d be working.” Again.

  She nodded as if she’d already known that.

  “Mom in bed?” Another nod. “She took a book with her.” Steph picked up the remote but didn’t hit Play. “Dammit, Sebby. This was your first Christmas back. The girls were warming to you….”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t—”

  “No. I wasn’t blaming you for anything. It’s not about that.” She sighed and pressed the Play button. Lifting up a knee and resting her head on it, she shifted her gaze back to him. “You and Matt… you seem good together.”

  “He’s great.” In for a pound…. “Always has been. Steph….” He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about the job offer and how he’d first thought he’d take it, but had changed his mind and how now even New York City seemed far away and some thoughts he’d had about changing that. Before he could respond to her questioning look, their mother entered the room.

  “I thought I heard this playing.” The opening narration of Tim Burton’s classic faded into the number about Halloween Town. “Oh, your dad loved this movie.”

  “We know,” Seb and Stephanie said at the same time. They grinned and high-fived each other.

  Matthew

  MOPING wasn’t something Matt did, so he forced his head out of the dark space and into the auction sculpture. It had taken shape with the aluminum underwire and had progressed fast as he overlayed the clay. Completing the last details on it had kept him occupied and not let him wallow in the hole at the center of his chest.

  He’d been avoiding his adopted family and Baz, but truthfully, Matt was too distracted and jittery. He’d used the sculpture as an excuse, working till the wee hours every night. A glance at his calendar oh-so-helpfully reminded him that it was Friday again. He’d already told the Chesnuts he wasn’t going caroling that night. They weren’t either, but both Ma and Steph had separately invited him over. And Baz had been asking about visiting Matt for the past several nights. A part of him craved Baz, but the itching under his skin could only be lessened by his art this time.

  Now he was breaking his self-imposed solitude and let Jackson come over to see the work for the first time since his sculpting sprint began. He preceded the younger man down the basement steps, and they both stood in front of the sculpture.

  Jackson whistled. “Holy moly! Has Steph seen it?”

  Matt smiled. “Nope.” He’d decided to work on a piece featuring a mother and two daughters as a surprise. The woman was seated, one child draped over her right shoulder and the younger sitting in her lap. He’d conceived it last year, so in the artwork Rowen was younger, still a baby. He remembered how Chance always wanted to help Steph with baby Rowen, found her fascinating. They had such a special relationship.

  He’d chosen muted shades of sand, taupe, buff, and brown. It gave it a polymorphous quality of indistinguishable race. They had no faces, blank so the viewer could insert the visage of their loved one. The skin was smooth, with only suggestions for arm definition and hands. He’d layered scale-like strips of clay for clothing and hair, using lighter strips for the mother and eldest child and the deepest brown for the baby.

  “Be taking her to be fired later. You and Cam can still help?”

  “Absolutely.” Jackson looked down, biting his lower lip in a habit Matt recognized meant he had something on his mind.

  “I can’t stay.”

  Matt blinked. “But you just said—”

  “No. I mean I will help today. I meant that I have to leave after that to spend Christmas Eve with my family tomorrow night.”

  That brought back the immediate pain of not having Chance and Rowen with him tomorrow and Sunday, Christmas Day. Matt forced his gaze back to Jackson, redirecting his thoughts. He fiddled with the tools, replacing them where they belonged. When he returned his attention to Jackson, it was obvious something was wrong.

  “Jackson?” he urged.

  “Cam won’t come with me.”

  Oh. He tried to think fast. “Maybe he’s not up to the meeting the family phase yet.”

  “Oh, I know that. I’d invited him as a friend. We… we’re taking things slow.”

  “But he doesn’t want to go?”

  Jackson shuffled between feet, lifting his hand to swipe his blue hair back. “He said he likes spending the holidays on his own.”

  Now that sounded familiar. It dawned on him that there were definite similarities between Cam and Baz, except Cam seemed even more reticent around people. “Some folks like their alone time.” He shook his head because spending the holidays alone was the worst thing he could think of.

  THE next morning, Matt found himself pacing his kitchen as he contemplated taking a second cup of coffee. He’d been unable to sleep as he’d tossed and turned, dreading Christmas Eve without the girls. He would be visiting Ma and Steph later—couldn’t even imagine not spending that night with them. He thought of Baz and the gentleness of his touch. Maybe it had been a mistake to keep away. His heart felt starved, like it was crammed into an airless room. He poured the coffee because at least that way he might be able to catch a quick nap on the couch. Most folks still found his opposite reaction to caffeine odd, but to him it was second nature.

  His cell rang and Baz’s name appeared.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Baz was quiet before asking softly, “How are you? We all miss you.”

  The words zapped his stagnant heart with a charge, awakening it to what he’d been missing. And it wasn’t just the girls.

  “Come over. I’ll make us lunch. Please,” Baz asked.

  Matty suddenly wanted that more than anything. As he neared the Chesnut house, he was stunned to see both Cheryl’s Volvo and Stephanie’s Highlander in the driveway. On Christmas Eve day it was unheard of that the shop would be closed. Alarmed, he parked in front of the house and jogged up the porch steps, letting himself in with his key.

  He spotted Cheryl and Stephanie in the kitchen, both looking as gobsmacked as if the holiday elf had come to life and started dancing in front of them.

  Baz was speaking. “Jackson agreed to keep it open till 4:00 p.m. Cam will help him. After that Jackson has to head home. He knows the artwork almost as well as Matty. And Gertrude, Winifred, and Franklin said they’d also stop by to help.”

  Cheryl’s brows furrowed but Stephanie’s face brightened as if she’d swallowed a light source. “Oh my God.”

  “Are you sure? I mean they have their own shops. And this is the busiest….”

  “Yes. They all wanted to help. Let’s do this.”

  Curiosity was burning through Matt. “Let’s do what?”

  “Matt!” Steph raced over and put a hand on each of his shoulders. “You won’t believe it. Sebby set it all up. He’s a magician.”

  At Matt’s questioning glance she laughed, hearty and deep, before taking his hands in hers and squeezing tight. “We’re going to Rochester. All of us!”

  “What?” He looked sharply at Baz, who stood still, eyes pleased and mouth curved in a small, satisfied smile.

  Baz mouthed, “Merry Christmas” at him.

  “Ma? What are they talking about?”

  Cheryl looked between her children, eyes wide with wonder. “It seems Seb has rented us a house near Ryan and Brittany and worked it out that the girls can stay with us tonight, as long as we drop them back off in the morning to spend Christmas Day with Ryan and Brittany.”

  “Wait. We’re going to them in Rochester? We get to spend Christmas Eve with them?”

  Steph beamed at him. “Yes.” She squeezed his hand again. “Road trip!”

  Baz chuckled. “It’s a ninety-minute dri
ve.”

  Matt was still trying to catch up. “A house.”

  “Like an Airbnb,” Steph explained.

  “For all of us? You mean I can—”

  He wasn’t sure when Baz stepped closer but he was in front of him, eyes so blue he felt like he needed to hold his breath. “Of course you’re coming with us. It wouldn’t be Christmas without you.”

  The group hug they shared after that would warm him on the coldest days to come for a long time.

  THE drive was indeed short, even with holiday traffic. After turning onto the narrow residential street, Matt parked his Jeep behind Stephanie. Next to him, Baz’s lips curved as if the proverbial canary was indeed stuck between his teeth. Eyes raking over the house, Matt could only smile like an idiot.

  “Oh my God,” he exclaimed. “It’s… how did you—?” He jumped out of the Jeep and stood next to Stephanie and Cheryl, both of whom were staring up in awe. The old Victorian house was large and commanding, in the style of family mansions of the 1920s. The outside was red brick with white trim, and it had forest-green shutters on the windows. The décor at Santa’s workshop was pallid in comparison to this gingerbread masterpiece. The front of the home was flanked by a wide white porch with portico beams. The gabled third floor was gray-blue slate and featured dormer windows with half-moon stained glass windows.

  Baz broke the reverie. “Let’s grab our bags and look inside.” Matt glanced at him before pulling out his oversized duffel and handing Baz his roller bag. As they walked up the front steps, Baz narrated. “It was built in 1922. The original woodwork is intact but some of the interior has been renovated and the kitchen has all the latest bells and whistles.” At the massive red door Seb pressed in a code in the decidedly not original keypad lock.

  With a flourish he twisted the brass doorknob and let them all proceed in front of him. Matt almost tripped over Stephanie, who had stopped short. He heard Cheryl gasp. Moving around them he stepped out of the foyer into a massive two-story great room trimmed for the holidays as if it had been waiting for a family to return since 1922.