Christmas Wishlist

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  The shimmer of tears was history, the trembling lip naught but a memory, the toy controversy temporarily on hold. “That’s silly. You can’t sneeze off a freckle.”

  “I can,” Andy announced, and demonstrated with several exaggerated snorts. “There. Did I do it, Gabe? Look at my nose.”

  “He’s lookin’ at my nose.” Abby elbowed Andy to keep him from stepping into her spotlight. “Go play with your stupid Jet Jupiter rocket ship.”

  Katherine looked on in awe and annoyance. She never could think fast enough to divert Abby’s pout or Andy’s charge-ahead stubbornness. But Gabe, a virtual stranger, had seemed to do it effortlessly, averting a scene and sidetracking a battle of wills. Not only that, he was getting what he wanted...peace while they finished waiting to see Santa. She didn’t understand it, and although she knew she probably ought to be grateful, she wasn’t.

  The line moved forward, and on the other side of the switchback, Santa’s House was suddenly in view. If there was an inch of plywood not covered in candy canes and other assorted plastic goodies, Katherine couldn’t imagine where it might be. The twins’ mouths fell open in awed delight. “Look, Mom. It’s Santa’s House,” they said, so nearly in unison it was hard to know which child had said what.

  “Ah, finally, our destination...the North Pole and the one-and-only real Macy’s department store Santa Claus.” Gabe’s voice was so close to her ear, she couldn’t tell if he startled her or if the warmth of his breath caused a chain reaction of awareness along her spine. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t,” came her instant, untruthful reply. “I was just a little unnerved by the sight of so much ‘sweetness’ in one place. Who do you suppose designed this Nightmare on Gingerbread Alley?”

  “Someone who is undoubtedly proud to have given such unmitigated delight to the thousands of children—and adults—who believe it’s okay to be a kid at Christmas.” His voice was no longer close...or warm...and Katherine was sorry she’d let his unsettling nearness prompt her into making a cynical and unkind remark. On the other hand, this was not her idea of unmitigated delight.

  “Look, Mom.” Andy tugged on her little finger, urging her toward the rail.

  “Look, Mom.” Abby pointed, excitedly. “It’s just like the gingerbread house in the magazine, the one you can make at home.”

  Then again—on the other hand—delight often found her completely by surprise. She felt Gabe’s frown center on the back of her neck and gave herself permission to ignore him. After all, she’d known going into this that she wasn’t exactly on his agenda of delights, either.

  A door in Santa’s House opened, and a couple of elves came out to work the line, handing out coloring books, crayons and party whistles, the paper kind that unfurled with a low trill when blown. “Got your list ready for Santa?” one of the elves asked. “Have you been naughty or nice?” asked the other.

  As if by magic, the long, impatient wait was forgotten. Children laughed and parents smiled as they pointed out the jingling bells on the elves’ hats and on their curly-topped shoes. Andy and Abby hung over the railing, their attention secured, their eyes wide with curiosity as the elves came closer. Andy stopped watching their progress only long enough to glance over his shoulder. “Hey, Gabe, look! It’s Santa’s elves.” He pointed to the nearest one...the one with pretty, dark eyes. “What’s her name?”

  “Sheila.” Gabe supplied readily, and the elf turned in their direction.

  “Hey, ya, Gabe!” she said, her flashing smile indicating not only that she recognized him, but that she had a good idea of where he stood on the nice-or-naughty scale, as well. “Merry Christmas!”

  Katherine looked at him with interest. “You know an elf?”

  “He knows all the elves, Mom.” Abby used the railing like a balance beam, levering her body weight so that she could lean out for a better view. “He knows their names and everything.”

  “All the elves?” Katherine repeated with droll humor. “Names and everything?”

  He shrugged with undue modesty. “I studied elf culture in college. Aced the class.”

  “I’ll bet she was your instructor, too.”

  “Sheila? Nah.”

  At the repetition of her name, the elf winked and waved. “I’ll be right there,” she called. “Don’t go away.”

  Palm out, Gabe curled his fingers in a reply that seemed not only reticent, but bashful, as well. “This may surprise you,” he said in an undertone. “But she’s not a real elf.”

  “Noooo...” Katherine drew the syllable out in exaggerated surprise. “You don’t mean she’s an...impostor?”

  “Ssshhhh, you don’t want to blow her cover.”

  “So...she’s working as an undercover elf?” Katherine leaned closer to whisper, “Isn’t she a little, uh, tall for that?”

  He slanted a glance at Sheila, who was passing out crayons and coloring books with unelflike haste. “She’s five-eight and twenty-one-years-old. She plans to become a photojournalist and wants to help bring about world peace in her lifetime.” Catching Katherine’s astonished gaze, he lifted his shoulders in a guileless shrug. “She plays a mean hand of five-card Stud, too.”

  Katherine couldn’t have been more astounded if he suddenly poked her in the eye. “If you get that kind of information from those monthly poker games, someone needs to notify the authorities.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. “I learned all I know about Sheila from the dossier she filled out for the Miss Staten Island pageant. She was a contestant. I was a judge. There, you see, I came by the information quite innocently.”

  “I suppose there’s a perfectly innocent reason why you remember her statistics, too.”

  “I have an excellent memory,” he stated flatly. Katherine suddenly wanted to poke him in the eye. And if he said he never forgot a pretty face, she would.

  “So do you remember all the contestants’ facts and figures, or just the ones who went on to become Santa’s elves?”

  “You’re taking this a bit personally, aren’t you, Kate?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I’m not. And don’t call me Kate.”

  “Katherine.”

  She didn’t like that any better. “Just don’t talk to me.”

  She could feel his questioning gaze as she stooped beside the twins and watched them watch the approaching elves. “I wonder why those women are wearing elf costumes,” she said, as if it was a question that truly puzzled her. “Do you suppose they’re getting paid to do it?”

  “You’re doin’ it again, Mom,” Abby warned. “And you promised you wouldn’t.”

  “Yeah,” Andy agreed. “You promised.”

  Katherine sighed and rose to her feet, again. She was going to have to decide which was worse...the twins acting like normal kids—even if it wasn’t the way they normally acted—or her own embarrassing overreaction every time Gabe said two words she could conceivably interpret as a reference to the kiss he did not remember. She risked a glance at him and found him watching her cautiously...sort of like a backpacker who suddenly finds himself face-to-face with a bear.

  “Look, Gabe,” she said over a tight knot of resistance in her throat. “I’m sorry if I seem a little tense. It’s been a long afternoon, and...”

  “Hello there!” Sheila arrived at their section of the bridge, shoved goody bags over the railing without paying much attention to which outstretched hands claimed them, and smiled at Gabe as if he had single-handedly crowned her queen of the elves. “I never expected to see you here,” she said eagerly. “I didn’t think you had any kids.”

  “I borrowed these so I’d have an excuse to spend the afternoon at Macy’s.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Sheila’s laugh was high-pitched, and much too enthusiastic for minimum wage. “I’ve c
alled your office dozens of times, but you were always in a meeting. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, but now here you are.”

  “We’re here to see Santa.” The words rushed out, making Gabe’s voice sound vaguely uncomfortable to Katherine’s untrained ear, but then, she wasn’t exactly skilled in the nuances of flirtation. “The twins—” he continued, placing a hand affectionately on each of the children

  “—wanted to give Santa their Christmas list, so here we are. That’s why we’re here. To see Santa.”

  “They’re here to see Santa,” Katherine corrected. “I’m here as the token parent.”

  Sheila’s gaze switched to Katherine, assessed and dismissed her in the blink of an eye, and returned full strength to Gabe. “I get off in another hour. Why don’t you pick me up after you are, uh, through with the kiddies, and we’ll catch up on where you’ve been and what I’ve been doing since the pageant. I’ve been hoping I’d get the chance to spend some time with you, so this must be fate, huh?”

  She all but purred the invitation, and Katherine wondered if it was hard to learn how to do that. “Sheila?” she said politely. “Could you tell me how to make that sound? That throaty thing you just did? I’ve never had an occasion that called for purring, but I’d like to be prepared, just in case.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Icicles could have formed on Sheila’s words, but Katherine prevented frostbite with a warm smile. “I’m sorry. I interrupted, didn’t I? Excuse me. I’ll just watch the kiddies while you talk to Gabe. Maybe I can pick up your technique by listening.”

  Sheila stared hard at Katherine before giving Gabe a what-are-you-doing-with-her-anyway? arch of the eyebrows. “So, can you make it?” She glanced at her watch. “I get to shed this costume in fifty-two minutes. Just tell me where to meet you.”

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “The North Pole?”

  “You’re such a tease.” Sheila patted his cheek. “How about the Thirty-fourth Street entrance in an hour?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “Hey,” Abby said, interrupting her. “You’re not a real elf. Real elves don’t paint their fingernails.”

  Sheila spared a glance—no more—for Abby before she shoved a second goody bag into the child’s hands and returned to her main objective. “Don’t say no,” she told Gabe. “You can change your plans for me, can’t you? Just this once?”

  There could have been a voice lesson in there somewhere, but Katherine was distracted by the sight of Andy kneeling on the bridge and trying his seven-year-old best to look up Sheila’s little green skirt. “Andy!” She whispered his name out of the side of her mouth as she reached down—trying desperately to seem casual—and tapped him on the shoulder. He pushed her hand away and renewed his efforts. “Andy!” This time she made the whisper a little louder and the tap more definite.

  “Wait a minute, Mom,” he said loudly. “I got to see what color underwear she’s got on!”

  As moments go, Katherine had had better. Even in the noisy room, Andy’s voice carried and in the hush that followed, Katherine half expected to hear someone shout, “Grenade!” and to see everyone dive for cover. But Sheila was the only one to shout, and “Grenade!” wasn’t exactly what she said.

  “Ommm!” Abby clapped her hand over her mouth...but only for an instant. “You said a bad word. That proves you’re not a real elf.”

  “She’s not wearin’ green underwear, neither.” Andy confirmed, dusting his hands as he got off his knees. “Gabe said elves always wear green.”

  “You little—!” Sheila reached for Andy. Katherine reached for Sheila. Gabe was quicker, pulling Andy out of the way and stopping any further unelflike comments with a gruff “Don’t even think about touching him, unless you want to tangle with me first.”

  Sheila backed off, blinking her pretty eyes in angry surprise. “I thought he wasn’t your kid.”

  “He is today.” Gabe sounded stern, protective, and ready to take on an entire army of pushy women. “Now, why don’t you go back to work before I decide to report you to the big guy himself.”

  Sheila lifted one shoulder in an unrepentant shrug. “Mr. Macy died years ago.”

  “Well, Santa Claus didn’t,” Gabe answered. “And since we’re on the subject, there’s no reason for you to keep calling my office, Sheila. It’s a waste of your time and mine.”

  “Well...” Reshuffling the goody bags on her arm, Sheila tossed her gleaming dark hair and jingled the bell on her hat. “That, of course, is your loss. But don’t think I’ll forget this when I become a celebrity. I won’t be calling Housley Security then. Make no mistake about it. When I’m a star—”

  “Hey! Elf-lady! My kid wants a coloring book!” From down the line, the voice of a tired and exasperated father called for help. “Could you stop talking and bring him one before I go stark raving crazy?”

  Katherine silently thanked the man, his son, and the stern-looking elf who had stepped around the side of Santa’s House to see what was going on. Sheila didn’t wait for marching orders from headquarters. She began handing out goody bags with a vengeance...and a smile, however insincere.

  Katherine turned with a sigh of relief...at the same exact instant Gabe turned...and sighed with relief. Their eyes met, and for just a moment, she felt a bond, a mutual purpose. The same sort of commonality she imagined a woman would share with the father of her children. But then she blinked, and it was gone.

  Gabe ruffled Andy’s curly hair. “I thought you were going to get us kicked out of line, buddy.”

  Andy’s grin flashed no hint of remorse. “I had to find out if she was a real elf or not.”

  “Couldn’t you have checked her ears?” Gabe asked. “Looking under skirts is just not something gentlemen do.”

  Andy frowned. “What about guys? Do they look?”

  Gabe hesitated, and Katherine jumped in to provide the definitive “No,” and a distracting “What’s in the bag?”

  Abby was first to thrust her hand into the plastic sack, but Andy came up first with the main prize, and half a second later, they were zestfully blowing the whistles at, and into, each other’s faces.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Gabe said. “I knew she was pushy, but I didn’t think she’d be rude.” He looked over Katherine’s head, presumably at the retreating Sheila, and then his brown eyes came back to apologize again. “I’m not sure, but I think that she thinks I’m going to get her a job as Ryan Gosling’s bodyguard. It’s the only reason I can think of for her to have singled me out from all the other judges.”

  Katherine looked at him, at the appealing line of his mouth, at the feathery laugh lines around his eyes, at the strong angle of his jaw, at the firm character of his chin, at the hair that drooped onto his forehead, and wondered if he was really that unaware of his own appeal. “If I thought you could get me close to Ryan Gosling, I’d single you out myself.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Katherine. I’m surprised at you. And just as I was getting the message that you’re not much interested in men.”

  “Just because I don’t know how to purr when I talk doesn’t mean I’m not interested in men. I’m particular, that’s all. Very particular.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What kind of man...in particular...interests you?”

  “The kind who remembers—” She snapped her lips shut before the rest of that sentence could see daylight. The line moved forward, and Katherine gratefully moved with it.

  Gabe moved, too, and when they stopped, he was even closer to her than before. “The kind of man who remembers...what?”

  “Nothing.” She pretended a preoccupation with counting the dwindling number of people in front of them. “We’re almost at Santa’s House,” she announced, although the twins weren’t listening and Gabe wasn’t going to be distracted.

 
“There is something going on here,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I know this sounds like a line, but I can’t shake this feeling that you and I have some sort of history together, that there’s something I ought to remember. Is it possible that...? Is there any chance that you and I...?”

  His voice trailed off, and Katherine closed her eyes, willing him not to recall, yet hoping, for some unfathomable and stupid reason, that he would. Then, to her utter horror, she heard her own voice supplying the answer before he had half a chance to complete the question. “Okay. It was a kiss. We kissed under the mistletoe in your office last Christmas Eve. I hardly remember the incident, myself, and it was obvious you’d forgotten all about it, so I wasn’t going to say anything. I mean, it wasn’t as if it meant anything to either one of us. It was simply a case of mistaken identity on your part...a little too much Christmas spirit on mine. So there, now you know, and we can both forget all about it again.”

  “We kissed?” He sounded unflatteringly astonished. “You and me?”

  “I,” she corrected with a sigh. “You and I, and yes, we did.”

  “Kissed?” he repeated, as if he had to be sure that was what she’d said. “I thought maybe we’d gone to school together and I used to pull your pigtails or something, but...” His voice faded away. “I kissed you? How could I have forgotten that?”

  All too easily, Katherine wanted to say. “There’s no reason you should have remembered” was what she said, instead. “I’m sure I would have forgotten it myself if...” She couldn’t think of a single reason she hadn’t forgotten, other than that, for her, it hadn’t been any ordinary kiss...it had been a kick-off-the shoes, curl-the-toes, knock-the-socks-off kiss. A Christmas Eve kiss, full of mystery and magic and exciting anticipation. Even factoring in the sad reality that it had been the only kiss of the entire year for her and the only memorable one for several years before that, she couldn’t rate it as anything less than unforgettable. She sighed again. “It was just a kiss. Forget it.”