And Henry Davenport.
She wanted him to like her Christmas outfit. That might soften him up a bit when she asked for money.
As she made her way to the floor where the event was being held, Paige mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say about needing additional funding. Fundraising wasn’t something that came naturally to her. To be honest, she hated it, but her dream of a new cancer center had pushed her out of her comfort zone. Now, she had to do that again. Only a few more times, Paige hoped. But she wanted to be careful because this wasn’t a charity gala where people expected to be asked for donations.
As she approached the party, the scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and peppermint lingered in the hallway. She inhaled, relishing the smells. With each step, the strains of a cheery Christmas tune grew louder, but something else rose above the music—laughter.
Young, loud, joyful.
The best sound ever.
Paige’s entire body felt as if it were smiling. She quickened her pace. When she reached the entrance, she stopped, freezing in place as if her shoes had become encased in cement.
She couldn’t move—didn’t want to move. Instead, she stared in awe at the whimsical winter wonderland in front of her.
Breathtaking.
Paige blinked, half expecting the sight to disappear, but the enchanted party room was still there.
Intricate snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Fairy lights twinkled on artificial trees, glowed around the windows, and lit up the walls. Fake snowmen had been accessorized, but an entire snow family waited to be decorated with scarves, hats, and other items.
The best part, though?
The children’s smiling, bright faces.
Some wore masks over their mouths and noses, but their eyes twinkled with excitement. The magic of Christmas was alive and well.
Paige forced herself to move. The room wasn’t crowded, and she assumed that was on purpose so patients and their families could rotate in and out without becoming too overwhelmed or tired. She’d enjoyed her pediatrics rotation, but she’d preferred working with adults. Still, she was called in occasionally to give her opinion on certain patients as she had last night.
Across the room, Henry Davenport kneeled in front of a child who appeared captivated by the billionaire’s nutcracker tie. That wasn’t the only holiday attire Henry wore. His suit was Christmas-themed, too. His jacket was a candy cane-patterned fabric with red lapels. Holly was embroidered down the sides of his pants. Henry looked more like a boss elf from the North Pole than one of the country’s leading philanthropists.
“Ho, ho, ho.” Santa sat on an oversized chair. He made a convincing Kris Kringle with his fancy suit, white beard that looked almost real, wire-rimmed glasses, shiny boots, a hat, and padding around his middle. “Come over here, and tell Santa what you’d like for Christmas.”
Wait. Paige did a double take. He appeared to be looking at her.
She glanced around. No one else was nearby. She pointed at herself. “Me?”
Santa nodded. “More kids will be here soon. Now’s your chance to visit with me before a line forms.”
Heat rushed up her neck. “Thanks, but I’m a little old.”
“More than one parent has told Santa what they wanted for Christmas.”
A healthy child.
People took health for granted until they or a loved one became sick and their lives changed.
“No one is too old to talk to me.” He spoke as if he was trying to deepen his voice, but she supposed Santa would be more baritone or bass than tenor.
She shrugged. When she’d been younger, seeing Santa had been one of her favorite traditions, but that had been years—decades—ago.
“Isn’t there something you want?” he asked.
Feeling surprisingly uncertain, Paige nodded.
“I thought so.” Santa adjusted his glasses. The beard hid most of his lower face, but his cheeks weren’t rosy. Still, hazel eyes twinkled.
His eyes.
She took a closer look. Something about them seemed familiar. The color or shape. Maybe he was a friend of Henry’s or a staff member at the hospital.
“Christmas is a magical time, perfect for making wishes and asking for miracles,” Santa continued. “So let’s hear what you hope to find under the tree this year.”
She pushed aside her misgivings.
“Okay.” Her Christmas wish was a big one and might require a miracle when all was said and done. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’m up for the challenge,” he countered.
At least the guy hadn’t said he’d find out using his magical crystal snow globe. She had to give it to Henry. This Santa wasn’t bad. Though, she wasn’t sitting on his lap.
Santa padded the armrest as if reading her mind. “There’s space right here.”
Mindful of her hips where she carried any extra weight, Paige sat, careful to keep her distance from Santa. Still, her muscles tensed, no doubt stressed over how to raise the money. She blew out a breath, but that didn’t help her relax.
Jingling bells caught her attention.
Across the room, Henry led two children in a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.”
So cute. Paige smiled. A part of her wanted to sing along. The spirit of Christmas must be contagious, and she hoped each person here today caught it.
“You like kids,” Santa said.
“I do.” She watched the trio sing another verse. “Someday I want a husband, kids, dog, cat, and a house with a fenced yard. That’s how I envision my happily ever after.”
Oops. Had she said that aloud? Based on Santa’s grin, she must have.
“Someday or now?”
“Someday, so you don’t need to worry about fitting all that in your sleigh this time.”
Paige, however, wouldn’t say no to meeting her future spouse, but a relationship would be easier after the cancer center was underway. And she doubted Santa played matchmaker.
“What do you want this year?” he asked.
“I want…need…”
Henry hugged each of the kids who had been singing with him. Everyone was so happy. She couldn’t bring herself to say the amount.
This party was for the children and their families. It wasn’t the right time to approach Henry for a donation. Even if that meant dealing with Amanda’s wrath, Paige would find a more appropriate time to reach out to the philanthropist.
“If you can’t tell Santa, who can you tell?” His tone was lighthearted and teasing.
Except he wasn’t Santa. He was a random guy in a red suit. But him being a stranger was even better. Telling him the amount might make saying it to Henry or someone else easier.
Worth a try.
“Twenty-five million dollars,” she whispered.
Santa didn’t gasp. He didn’t flinch or blink. His expression didn’t change one bit. Maybe he went to Santa school, where he learned how not to react when a kid asked for a live tiger in her stocking or a magic wand that would turn his teachers into toads or a cure for cancer. Twenty-five million dollars was in the realm of unrealistic gifts.
“It’s not something you can do anything about, so I don’t expect to find that under my Christmas tree.” Even if Santa Claus was real, that amount would be way over his gift limit. “But I’ll gladly take a candy cane.”
“That I can do.” Smiling, Santa reached over the other armrest. When he raised his hand, he held a candy cane tied with a red satin ribbon. “May I ask why that amount?”
Paige glanced around to see if anyone was nearby. Everyone had joined in more caroling so no one was paying attention to her and Santa. She wasn’t trying to be secretive, but she didn’t want Henry to hear. Not today.
“A project—something I’m passionate about—is short on funding. Twenty-five-million-dollars short.” Saying the amount again was easier. “But as you said, Christmas is a magical time. With a sprinkle of elf pixie dust, everything will work out.”
Stop talking
. You’re rambling.
Not surprising because she did better as Dr. Regis wearing her white coat than as Paige in a Christmas outfit. But she believed her wish would come true. Somehow. Some way.
“It will.” Santa handed her the candy cane. “Merry Christmas.”
She took it from him. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”
As more people entered the party, she headed toward Amanda. Henry stepped in front of Paige, blocking her path.
“Dr. Regis.” He greeted her with a wide grin. The man was as handsome as he was charming. “So happy you could join our holiday soiree.”
“You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Anything for the kids, but the credit goes to the event planner I hired.” He motioned to Paige’s sweater. “Thanks for dressing up.”
“I heard it was mandatory.”
“Optional, but highly recommended.” He glanced toward Santa, who was speaking with a young girl in a wheelchair. “Did you tell Santa you wanted twenty-five million dollars for Christmas?”
Paige’s shoulders sagged. “Amanda spoke to you about it.”
Henry nodded. “Probably because you didn’t arrive on time.”
“Rounds.”
“Which is what I told her,” he said to Paige’s surprise.
“How did you know that?” she asked.
“I remember how diligent you were the times Wes was in the hospital.”
Whenever Wes Lockhart, a patient of hers, had been hospitalized, Henry and Blaise Mortenson alternated staying overnight. During the day, other men took shifts, too. Not once during any of Wes’s stays had Paige found him alone, which told her how deep his bonds of friendship went.
“Thank you.” That was the easiest thing for her to say even if all she’d been doing was her job. “How is Wes doing these days?”
Henry laughed, a deep bellowing sound.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
His eyes lit with a hint of mischief. “You just spoke to him.”
Huh? And then it hit her. The familiar hazel eyes she couldn’t quite place. Her stomach flip-flopped. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Wes is Santa?”
Henry nodded. “I thought he’d be a good one, and he must be if you didn’t recognize him.”
Wes was so good at playing the role she’d asked him for twenty-five million dollars.
Ugh.
He’d been her patient during the initial fundraising efforts. Yes, he had billions and a charity foundation. But Paige had seen him at his lowest point. He had such a strong personality and drive, but the weight of his diagnosis had crippled him. After he went into remission, he’d had two follow-up visits with her before being referred to his primary care physician, who saw Wes every three to four months.
Paige hated that she hadn’t recognized him. He’d deepened his voice to not sound like his normal self. The hat and beard hid much of his face.
“He never broke character,” she said.
Henry beamed. “That’s part of the Santa creed.”
“There’s a creed?”
“If not, there should be.” He lowered his voice. “This party was my last charitable donation for the year. My investment guru and so-called friend, Brett Matthews, has cut me off from giving more until the new year. If you haven’t raised the funds by then, please call me.”
“Thank you.” Paige straightened, grateful for Henry’s generosity. “I will, but I hope to have the money before then.”
“Good luck.”
She half laughed. “I need it.”
“You’ll do fine.” Henry motioned to Santa—Wes—who spoke to a young boy who couldn’t stop giggling. “Talk to Wes after the party. He hasn’t been back to the hospital for a while.”
“There’s been no reason for him to visit.” She could spout off the five-year survival rate for Hodgkin’s lymphoma patients and other statistics, but numbers didn’t tell a patient’s story. Each case was unique. Wes had experienced unexpected setbacks and complications, but he’d gone into remission. Something she wished would happen with all her patients. “My goal is for him not to return.”
“You succeeded.”
“We did.” She might be an oncologist, but she was only one part of a larger team of caregivers, each who worked in tandem to help patients like Wes. “But if he has to be here, this party is the way to do it.”
Henry grinned proudly. “I agree.”
A little girl trying to wrap a scarf around a snowman’s neck stomped her slipper-covered foot. She pouted. “Mr. Henry, it’s not working right.”
“Duty calls.” Henry gave a mock bow. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Enjoy the party, Dr. Regis.”
With that, he hurried over to help accessorize the snowman.
Someone tugged on her arm.
A child—around six or seven—had a bandage wrapped around his head. He pulled at her sweater. “I like Rudolph’s red nose.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you a mommy?” he asked.
“I work at the hospital.” Paige didn’t see any adults hovering nearby. She kneeled to bring herself to his eye level. “Is there something you need?”
Hope filled the boy’s eyes. “Do you want to color with me?”
Paige didn’t know if he was here alone or what, but that didn’t matter. She grinned. “I’d love to color.”
“I’m Dalton.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Paige.”
Smiling, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll take you to the coloring station.”
“Lead the way.” She couldn’t think of a better activity to do while she waited for Wes.
CHAPTER THREE
After the party, Wes changed into jeans and a sweater in the men’s room. He expected the hours spent being charming and ho-ho-ho-ing to wear him out, but he felt exhilarated, ready for…more. That told him one thing.
Henry was correct.
Wes placed the Santa suit and boots into the garment bag and zipped it up.
No matter how much he wanted to remain detached, he was missing out by keeping his distance from those his foundation helped. As Henry had said, people needed to know others cared, but Wes needed something also, something he hadn’t realized until playing Santa.
He needed the connection.
Not an email or a letter full of gratitude, but the face-to-face connection with another human being. Sure, he had lots of interactions at work. His company had over two thousand employees, and he made himself visible there. But this…
This was different.
Something else he hadn’t understood until tonight.
Washing his hands, Wes stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.
“What do you want for Christmas?” he asked himself.
He’d quadrupled the profits of his family’s company, amassing money and awards and fame. He’d found a second family composed of friends who understood the craziness such success brought. He’d survived lymphoma. At thirty-five, he’d accomplished so much.
But it wasn’t enough.
People wanted to be him, which he didn’t understand.
Most of them saw the outer Weston E. Lockhart IV. Few looked beyond his net worth to the man underneath. One who was unsettled and lonely. Who was more than a little worried and uncertain about what might come next.
He dried his hands.
What did Wes want for Christmas?
He wanted to feel this happy and content every day.
Tonight showed him signing a check was nowhere near as fulfilling as listening to a child’s Christmas wish or seeing a smile brighten their face or hearing their laughter. As each clutched their present from Santa, he’d felt like the most important person in the world—their world. Despite their illnesses, they grinned and said thank you, filling him with unfamiliar contentment.
He wanted more of that.
His plan for the holidays had been to make a difference in people’s lives by donating money. The founda
tion still could do that, but he would get more involved. He could help not only strangers, but also those who had made a difference in his life.
Starting with Dr. Paige Regis.
Thinking about her brought a rush of warmth. Wes hadn’t expected to see her at the party, let alone dressed up like an advertisement for Christmas with her caramel hair worn loose and her eyes full of wonder. Her uncertainty about talking to Santa was so unlike the focused, cancer-fighting warrior he’d depended upon during his treatments.
Different, but appealing on a whole other level.
Dr. Regis was the definition of serious. Wes had appreciated her dedication as she guided him through the toughest fight of his life. He would be eternally grateful for her care, but tonight, he saw there was so much more to her than a talented medical professional.
That intrigued him.
Who was he kidding?
This new side of her captivated Wes—made him want to learn more about her, which surprised him.
Not that he would do anything about that. But he could do something else.
Twenty-five million dollars.
She’d shared with Santa what she wanted this year. It wasn’t a gift for herself because the cancer center would benefit others. People who’d been sick like him and Zeke. Some would get a second chance like Wes. Others might find more comfort in their final days.
Yes, Wes would make her Christmas wish come true.
With a plan in mind, he returned to the party room and handed over the garment bag to Henry. “Thanks for the loan.”
“How was playing Santa?”
“You were right.” Wes didn’t hesitate answering. “I should be more involved with helping others. Giving money is one thing, but this felt…right.”
Henry’s smile spread. “As I said, some people don’t know what they need.”
“You did.” People, including Rachael Reese who planned the event, packed up items. None of the hospital staff were there. That was a bummer. “Have you seen Dr. Regis?”
“She was here a few minutes ago.”
“She isn’t now.” Wes hadn’t thought she might leave right away. “I’ll call her office on Monday.”
The Wish Maker (The Billionaires 0f Silicon Forest Book 2) Page 3
