Montana Secret Santa

by Debra Salonen

  Ten tops? She hoped.

  Chapter Seven

  Head down. Hat pulled low. Krista hurried the short distance from her parking spot to the office. In her haste to get to the podcast, she’d accidentally left the most recent stack of snail mail Santa letters on her desk and she’d need them for the meeting. She hadn’t heard from Jonah yet, so she’d probably have to run the meeting alone.

  The thought made her a little nervous. Had any of the Marietta Secret Santa volunteers heard her podcast? What were the chances? Slim to zero?

  When she slid her key into the lock, she found the door was already open. Did I forget…?

  She pulled out her phone, thumb ready to hit 911. When she slowly eased open the door to look around, she spotted Amanda watering their plants.

  Her panic receded and she put her phone back in her purse. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “I had a call from Emily McCullough. She couldn’t reach you. Is your phone off?”

  Krista grabbed it again to check. “Damn. I put it on airplane mode during my interview and forgot to turn it on again.” She readjusted her setting and watched as four missed calls flashed across her screen.

  “You forgot something as elemental as your phone? That’s so not like you, Krista. Hmm… what does that mean? You’re not pregnant are you?”

  Krista nearly choked on her laugh. “I know Immaculate Conception is big this time of year, but, trust me, that is so not my problem.”

  “Well, you’re too young for dementia. That can only mean one thing—you’re in love.”

  “Really? Well, if those are my only choices, I’ll take dementia.”

  Amanda laughed. “Too late, my friend. I knew it had to be love when Em texted me a link to the podcast, which was supposed to feature an interview with Jonah Andrews.”

  Krista didn’t see the connection. “His beagle is sick. He asked me to fill in. How does that equate to me being in love?”

  “Two words—Thanta thucks. You don’t do on-air interviews. Never. Ever.”

  Krista had forgotten she’d shared her personal phobia with Amanda one night after a few too many cocktails. “I didn’t do it for him. I did it for the Secret Santa Society.”

  Amanda’s obvious skepticism made Krista hold up her phone as a distraction. “Why the calls? Was I that bad? Did I say something stupid? Honestly, the whole interview is a blur.”

  Amanda returned to her chores. “No. You were brilliant. I could hear your tone change when the interviewer pissed you off with personal questions, but you handled him like the consummate professional you are.”

  Krista sat on the corner of her partner’s desk, waiting for the other shoe to fall, so to speak. Something was coming.

  “Em wasn’t crazy about the two plugs for the chocolate shop. The first one she was willing to let slide since Sage lets the group use her space, but the second seemed too self-serving, in her opinion. Or serving Blue Sky’s interest. I’m not sure which.”

  Krista winced. She’d known in her gut that criticism was coming. “He kept pressing. I said the first, nonpersonal thing that came into my head.”

  Amanda nodded. “That’s what I told Em, but you know what a stickler she can be. She said, ‘Christmas is personal. That’s why we do this. To make one aspect less commercial and more personal.’ Em thought you should have opened up a bit. Her exact words were, ‘Isn’t that what social media is all about? Spilling your guts to a vast audience of strangers?’”

  “For some people, I guess, but that’s not my style. I told Jonah it was a bad idea to send me. Damn.”

  Amanda set the watering pot on the floor and walked to Krista to give her a supportive, one-arm hug. “You know the old saying about no such thing as bad publicity. I promised Em we’d spin the heck out of this. I printed out a transcript and pulled half a dozen great quotes. We’ll make a bunch of flashy memes and start sharing like mad across social media.” She leaned around Krista and picked up her tablet. “Here’s my first try. What do you think?”

  She fiddled with it a moment then held up the screen for Krista to see. The app was one they both liked. She’d used a format similar to the popular Stay Calm meme. “You don’t give ’till it hurts; you give because it hurts not to give.”

  Krista’s eyes went wide. “I said that?”

  Amanda handed her a transcript with certain phrases marked in yellow highlighter.

  “‘Giving is good for the heart,’” she said, looking up. “I stole that from Em. Let’s run with that one and give her credit. Bridge-building.”

  They talked strategy a few minutes before a knock on the door made Krista look up. Jonah? She realized she missed him and hadn’t really stopped thinking about him since his call.

  The door opened and a woman’s head popped in.

  Krista’s first impression? Young, pretty in an America Ferrera sort of way, a big cheerful smile filled with optimism and possibility. Krista had been that person at one time in her life. Hadn’t she?

  “Right place? Right time? I’m Gretchen Zabrinski.”

  The second she spoke, something clicked in Krista’s brain. Their intern interview was this morning. That was why Amanda was in the office. Krista would have missed it completely. When Jonah called in a panic needing her help, she’d dropped everything, including her mind, apparently. That reaction was so out-of-character it made her a little queasy. Was Amanda right? Could the attraction she felt for him have morphed into something more?

  No. Just no. Not now. I don’t have the emotional resources to survive another transitory flirtation destined to leave a scar.

  Amanda handled introductions smoothly, but Krista struggled to figure out the connection the dark-hair beauty shared with the well-known Marietta family of entrepreneurs and philanthropists.

  “How do you fit into the Marietta Zabrinskis?”

  “My grandfather was Robert Zabrinski’s older brother, Richard. Grandpa Richard died when Dad was five, I think. Some sort of hunting accident that caused a lot of hard feelings for my grandma. Grams thinks I’m nuts to come here.” Her grin said the criticism didn’t hold much weight.

  “My sister, Samantha—most people around here know her as Pastor Sam—lives in Paradise. I’m staying with her through the holidays to help with her annual Living Crèche. I’m Mary.”

  Amanda clapped enthusiastically. “Tucker and his friends, Justin and Flynn, helped with traffic last year. They loved it. Tucker’s already signed up for all three nights this year.”

  “I was out of town and missed it,” Krista said, “but I’ve met your sister and your niece. Sam’s quite passionate about her calling.”

  “She’s gung-ho about life. She’s one of the reasons I decided to take a semester off from college. I feel like I’m at a turning point. My first love has always been art, but at my dad’s suggestion, I decided to become a communications major. I thought the graphic design aspects would satisfy my need to make art. But, honestly, it hasn’t worked out that way and I’m starting to panic. What if I invest four years and then find out I hate it? It would be like going through med school to find out you’re a germaphobe.”

  The comment made Amanda groan. “That would be me. I think you’re smart to get some practical experience in the field, but I feel an obligation to point out the weather. This is Montana. Winter is here.”

  Gretchen tossed back her head and laughed. “I’ve lived in Detroit my whole life. Believe me, Montana hasn’t cornered the market on ice and snow.”

  Krista liked the young woman’s candor and positive energy. “So, in theory, you could start the first of the year?”

  She shook her head. “The third. Monday’s a holiday.”

  The saucy quip was something her brother Javier would have said. “We have an application form, right, Amanda?”

  Amanda picked up a piece of paper, accidentally sending the two Santa memes to the floor. Gretchen snatched them up, giving them the once over before handing them to Krista. “Nice, but I’
d have used a red with a bit more purple. And I just ran across a couple of cool fonts that might make the quotes really pop.”

  Krista pulled out her chair and made a show-me-what-you’ve-got motion toward her desk. Gretchen didn’t hesitate. Fifteen minutes later, the wireless printer made its usual belching sound before spitting out two sheets. Krista studied each page a moment then held them up for Amanda to see from a distance.

  “Wow. That’s awesome.”

  She and Krista exchanged a wordless look. Krista walked to Gretchen and held out her hand. “You’re hired. We’ll see you January third, if not before.”

  *

  It was nearly ten by the time Jonah got to the chocolate shop. Normally, his and Krista’s interaction with the group ended by nine-thirty at the latest so he didn’t expect to find her there. She was a busy businesswoman with an obligation to her Blue Sky clients. He knew that and respected her for it, but he really wanted to talk to her. Needed to talk to her. Not about Secret Santa business. Not about her amazing interview. Not even about Bindi, although he couldn’t shake his fear that the little dog might not pull through.

  The vet had had to pump Bindi’s stomach. Jonah’s fear that that the dog had snacked on a leaf or two of the poinsettia plant he’d bought had proven unfounded.

  “Poinsettia has a bad reputation, but it’s actually low on the dangerous plant list. What you need to look out for—plant-wise—is holly berries, mistletoe and, even, rosemary.”

  “Rosemary? No way. I picked up one of those Christmas-tree-shaped plants yesterday. I put it on a low bench near the fireplace, close to where the dogs sleep. I had no idea. And I’m pretty sure Mom has holly in the yard. She snipped a few branches to decorate the mantel before she left. Has this happened before?”

  The vet examined the dog’s mouth and didn’t see a problem. “Nothing in her record and her mouth looks okay. It could be anything, Jonah. Your parents’ property backs up to an alley, doesn’t it? Someone might have tossed a hamburger wrapper or candy bar over the fence. Luckily, whatever the cause, it wasn’t bad enough to cause seizures.”

  He wished that made him feel better, but it didn’t. He wasn’t used to making mistakes—the kind that had life or death repercussions, anyway. In the lab, he had complete control. If some stroke of genius failed, he’d work on it until the light bulb lit up in his brain and he found a way to fix it. Living, breathing variables rarely factored into his thought process.

  Now, I have one job to do and I blow it.

  After the vet completed her examination with gentle efficiency, she’d asked to keep Bindi for observation a few more hours. “When you get her home, I suggest you feed her separate from the other dogs. Rice and chicken and lots of water for a few days. Don’t worry, Jonah. She’ll be as good as new.”

  Jonah had laid a hand on Bindi’s torso, taking some comfort from the little dog’s steady breathing. “I’ll be back for her at five. Call me if anything changes, okay?”

  “Of course. Don’t blame yourself, Jonah. I once operated on a dalmatian that ate a tube sock. There’s no accounting for taste.”

  It had killed him to walk away without the little dog that had somehow secured a big chunk of his heart in such a short time. From the vet’s office, he’d returned home to feed and walk the other dogs. On the way out the door, he’d picked up his pretty little “tree.”

  “Well, look what the cat drug in,” Em McCullough called the moment he stepped across the chocolate shop threshold.

  “Sorry I’m late. Tough morning. Does anyone want a rosemary tree?” He set the fragrant topiary, which showed no sign of having been gnawed on that Jonah could see, on the table then shed his coat, gloves, and hat.

  He looked around. No Krista, but Em was joined by Sarah Zabrinski and two women whose names he couldn’t remember. Everyone appeared busy writing donor thank you cards—no standard form letter from Santa.

  “We were debating about which island you and Krista were headed to,” Em said as he pulled his laptop from the canvas backpack he’d found in his old room.

  “Pardon?”

  “Now that you both sign on the Secret Santa account,” Sarah said, her mischievous grin making it clear she was teasing. “I was betting you’d eloped to St. Barts.”

  He dug out his wallet to pay for his cocoa. “Eloped, huh? Sorry. Call me old-fashioned, but shouldn’t you go on at least one date before you tie the knot?”

  “The man has a point, Em. We didn’t think of that.”

  Em nodded. “So? Where are you taking her? The Graff does a mean steak.”

  “And while you’re there, you can get your picture taken with Santa,” one of the other ladies added.

  “The sitting is free if you buy tickets to the stroll. Have you been before?” the other woman asked. “Main Street turns into this amazing, magical wonderland. Food vendors, crafters, local shops are open. Hayrides. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  A date. The idea had been floating around in his head ever since that first day they met, but every time he ventured close to asking, Krista changed the subject. “I’ll take that under advisement. I haven’t been since I was a kid. Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my cocoa level is about a quart low.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see the four women huddled together, whispering. He didn’t doubt for a second that his and Krista’s personal lives had taken center stage in their conversation. Small towns where everyone knew everyone else were ripe for matchmaking. He and Krista were single. About the same age. And, no doubt, even a stranger could have picked up on the vibe between them. But Jonah knew perfectly well nothing long-term could come of acting on their mutual attraction. What had his brother said about a holiday romance smacking of desperation and pure neediness?

  He pushed the idea away and joined the line at the counter. As he waited, he looked around, realizing with surprise that the place was busier than usual. Borderline packed. Was that because he was later than usual?

  He watched as the person ahead of him in line bought nearly five hundred dollars’ worth of individually boxed truffles and specialty chocolates. “Getting your holiday shopping done in one place, huh?” he asked as the woman waited for her credit card charge to go through.

  “Exactly. A friend shared a link on Facebook to a blog cast this morning… is that the right word?”

  “Podcast?”

  She brightened. “That’s it. I don’t know why I didn’t think about buying from Sage before now. I love her chocolates, but I’d gotten into the habit of ordering customer gifts from a big chocolatier on the west coast. Hearing that young woman this morning talk about the benefits of shopping local really made sense. So, here I am.”

  “That’s great. Sage’s chocolates are amazing. But… did the other company package and ship them for you?” Krista mentioned the difficulty of shipping fragile truffles to hot climates in her interview, but he was curious about the customer service aspect of a giant business versus a small operation.

  The woman’s smile grew. “Yes, but the wrapping is very impersonal. Believe it or not, I’ve missed not being able to add my own personal touch to the gifts I ordered online. My daughter offered to help me wrap these, and then we’re going to treat ourselves to tea at the Graff. Honestly, I haven’t had this much fun shopping in years.”

  He offered to carry the two shopping bags for her, but Sage’s niece, Portia—a pretty-if-quiet young woman he’d met a couple of times—beat him to it. The lady waved goodbye and wished him, “Merry Christmas.”

  “Nice sale,” he said to Sage as she rang up his order.

  “Second big one today. If you see Krista before I do tell her thanks for the plug. I haven’t had a chance to listen to her podcast, but something she said really connected with people. Nothing like word of mouth, right?”

  He’d heard every word but had assumed his gut reaction came from his feelings for her. “I’ll tell her.”

  Over dinner, perhaps?

  He looked
at the Secret Santa table. Maybe the ladies were right. After the day he’d had, he deserved a night off with a beautiful woman.

  He thought about calling Krista but didn’t want to be overheard, so he texted, instead.

  “Dinner at the Graff? Please. Need a break from dog drama.”

  Her reply came quicker than he’d expected.

  “What time?”

  He did a quick search on his phone and within minutes had a table reserved.

  “7:00 OK?” After a second’s hesitation, he added. “Pick you up at 6:00? Stroll first?”

  He’d finished his cocoa and returned to the group before his phone chirped her answer.

  “Sounds good. C U then.”

  He didn’t share his good news, but his grin might have given something away, if the look Sarah and Em exchanged meant anything. He didn’t care. A date was a date. It didn’t have to mean anything beyond two people wanting to spend time together over a delicious meal. He’d been hiding out at home with the dogs too long, plus Bindi’s health crisis had served to remind him that life was fragile.

  Tonight, they’d check out the Marietta Stroll, dine on something decadent and see where the evening took them. No limits. No expectations. Just a night on the town with Krista. His early Christmas gift to himself.

  Chapter Eight

  “A date,” Krista murmured glancing from the pile of clothes on her bed—tried on and rejected over the past hour—to the image in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. “Just a date.”

  She turned sideways to view her profile.

  Too dressy?

  Not for the Graff.

  She’d been there several times and the place oozed robber baron wealth and prestige. But was her long skirt too much for the stroll?

  She gathered two fistfuls of the soft, scrunchable material to look at her feet. Same heels—returned that morning from the repair shop—that she’d been wearing the day they met. She kicked them off, sending them flying in the general direction of the closet and grabbed her smart-but-stylish black, mid-calf lace-up boots with a practical heel, plush lining, and a winter tread.