“Where’s Jemima?” Lena asked.
“That girl took her.” Mrs. Davies clutched her robe around her.
“What girl?” Lena demanded.
“I don’t know her name. But Sally brought her here and they took her.”
“Sally brought her?”
Mrs. Davies nodded. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to bed.”
“Okay. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
“Oh, yes, I think they’re bringing Jemima back for you to watch since Sally is working really late tonight.”
“Oh. I better go see.”
“Yes, you better.”
So instead of going to bed like she wanted, Lena waited in the lobby, and after about fifteen minutes Beth came in with Jemima. And her father was shadowing them. Lena could tell he wasn’t sure what to make of the boardinghouse, and he was probably fretting that his daughter was going to get mugged inside. To be fair, she couldn’t blame him.
“Thank you for watching Jemima,” Lena told Beth.
“I went to Beth’s house,” Jemima said. “She has a pool table and video games and all kinds of stuff.”
Lena nodded then looked at Sam. “Thank you for bringing Jemima back.”
He shrugged. “Don’t see that I had much choice.”
“Oh, Dad,” Beth said. “Why are you such a grump?”
He looked slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“For all of us, I’m sure.” Lena reached down to take Jemima’s hand. “We should get you to bed.”
Beth mouthed something to Lena, like she didn’t want Jemima to hear. “What?” Lena asked.
“I didn’t say anything to her . . . you know, about your job.” Beth winked.
“Oh.” Lena nodded. “Good for you. Thanks!”
Sam looked curiously at her and Lena could tell he didn’t know about her job either. And why should he?
She thanked them both again then herded Jemima up the stairs. “If we don’t hurry, we won’t have time for a story,” she said as they went.
“The Christmas story again?”
“If you want it.”
“Yes, yes – the Christmas story!” Jemima ran up the stairs so fast that Lena could barely keep up.
CHAPTER
11
Lena and Jemima went to church with Moira again. But this time Lena couldn’t stay for Sunday dinner because of work, and when Beth said she was watching Jemima again, Moira suggested that perhaps Sam could give Lena a ride too. “That way I can meet my girlfriends for lunch,” she confessed.
So Lena found herself sitting in the front seat of Sam’s silver BMW, with Beth and Jemima in the back. “This is a beautiful car,” she said in an effort to make small talk. She wanted to add, It must’ve cost a bundle, but controlled herself.
“Tell her why you got this car,” Beth called from behind them.
“Why don’t you tell her?” he said.
“I made him get it,” Beth said. “He’d been driving around this ugly-bugly maroon minivan, and I was so embarrassed to be seen with him that I said he had to get a new car. He told me that if he was going to do that, I would have to pick it out.”
“That was a mistake,” Sam muttered.
“Oh, you love this Beamer, Dad. Admit it.”
“I had no problem with the minivan, Beth. I still miss it sometimes.”
Beth groaned.
Lena was caught off guard by this story. She had assumed that Sam was the kind of guy who needed a fancy car to boost his ego. Apparently she’d been wrong.
“So how’s the job?” he asked Lena in a gesture she knew was simply politeness. “Beth told me a bit about it. Sounds interesting.”
“I’m enjoying it,” she said. “It wasn’t exactly what I expected, but I couldn’t be happier.”
“Camilla Harrington is a good friend of mine,” he said. “She and Cassidy have been through some tough times.”
“Well, Cassidy is a gem,” Lena told him. “She helps me during the week, but I really miss her when she’s gone.”
“Don’t forget what I told you, Lena,” Beth said. “If they need another elf girl, I’m available.”
“Seems you have your hands full with babysitting,” her dad reminded her.
“Maybe I can be an elf girl too,” Jemima said.
“I think you have to be older,” Beth said.
“What is an elf girl anyway?”
“Remember,” Lena said, “elves are Santa’s helpers. But they live at the North Pole and that would be an awfully long commute for you. Besides, your mommy would miss you.”
“Oh.”
“What kind of work will you do when this job ends?” Sam asked quietly.
“Whatever kind I can find, I suppose. Although I doubt I’ll find anyone who’ll give me an accounting job. That’s what I was trained for.”
“No, I doubt that too.”
Fortunately they were nearly there. Lena profusely thanked him for the ride and then thanked Beth for helping with Jemima. She promised Jemima that she’d see her after work. “And we’ll have a different story tonight,” she said.
“I don’t want a different story,” Jemima said. “I like the Christmas one.”
“We’ll find another Christmas one,” she said as she opened the car door. “I’m sure a store will have books.”
“As long as it’s a Christmas story.” Jemima nodded. “Then that’s okay.”
Lena waved, closed the door, and hurried into the store. She loved Moira and Beth, but it was unfortunate they seemed to come as a package deal – with Sam. Not that Sam was a bad person. He was probably okay. But he had a way of making Lena feel nervous and defensive and almost as if she’d really done something to have deserved her eight years in prison. In fact, in some ways he reminded her of her dad.
She hurried toward the escalator, eager to get down to the basement, put on her Mrs. Santa dress, and push thoughts of guilt or prison or worry or unhappiness behind her.
“Lena?”
She turned to see Ms. Harrington standing by the directory sign near the escalator. She smiled, but her lips seemed tight, almost as if something was wrong. “Can I see you in my office before you go to work?”
“Sure.” Lena stepped behind her on the escalator. As she studied Ms. Harrington’s straight back, garbed in a charcoal gray dress that looked very expensive, Lena felt worried. Something was wrong. Had Justine said something? Phoned in a complaint? Made an accusation? She braced herself as she followed her boss into her office.
“Please, sit.” Ms. Harrington waved to a black leather chair and Lena sat.
“Is something wrong?” Lena asked.
She nodded. “It’s about Cassidy.”
“Cassidy?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you about her illness. That’s the way she wanted it. But I feel you need to know.”
“Actually, I do know. Moira Phillips is a friend of mine and she mentioned it yesterday. But I had no idea before she said anything.”
“Oh, well, that’s good. I felt you should know. And although she’s been doing better, she has her spells . . . Today she’s not so well.”
“I’m so sorry.” Lena felt her eyes filling. She knew it was partly due to her worry that Justine had blown her cover, but it was mostly out of concern for Cassidy. “She is such a sweet girl. I love working with her.”
“That’s just it.” Ms. Harrington clasped her hands in front of her. “She loves working with you too. So much so that I’m afraid she’s overdoing it.”
“Oh . . . I see.”
“And that’s why I’m cutting back her hours starting tomorrow.”
“I understand.”
“I’m tempted to put my foot down altogether. It was one thing for her to conceive this Mrs. Santa idea. And she can be an elf for a bit of time. But not for hours. Do you agree?”
“Of course. Her health should be your primary concern, Ms. Harrington.”
“P
lease, Lena, call me Camilla.”
Lena nodded.
“Naturally, she’ll be upset about not getting to work more.” Camilla shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what to do. I know she loves you and being with the children. But she’s fragile too. And what if she catches something from one of them?”
“That is a concern.”
“But it’s also important to keep her spirits up,” Camilla continued. “I know that.”
“What if she kept working three hours a day but took more breaks?”
Camilla seemed to think about this. “Perhaps that would help.”
“Or what if we added another elf?” Lena smiled. “I just had a volunteer of sorts. Beth Phillips wants to be an elf too.”
Camilla’s eyes lit up. “Beth. That would be perfect. She and Cassidy are friends anyway. Oh, that’s a brilliant idea.” She reached out and took Lena’s hand. “Thank you so much.”
Lena felt a bit guilty since this could mean less time for Beth to spend with Jemima. But Sam might prefer to see his daughter working in a department store to babysitting a child who lived at the “disreputable” Miller House, as she felt certain he probably saw it. Let them sort that out. At least Jemima was enrolled in school now. Maybe Sally could connect with some other moms who might be willing to exchange babysitting times.
“You know, Cassidy almost believes that you really are Mrs. Santa.” Camilla laughed. “Or maybe she just wants to believe.”
“Oh, for the faith of a child again,” Lena said as she stood.
“Anyway, thank you for doing such a great job in your role. Word is spreading fast that Mrs. Santa is much friendlier than Santa – and more interesting too. I think traffic in the store is picking up as a result.”
“Maybe that will continue right up until Christmas,” Lena said.
“Hopefully. And I’ll give Beth a call.”
As Lena left the office, she felt the bounce return to her step. Not only had she been wrong about Justine spreading her poison, but it seemed that Camilla was pleased with her work. Life was good!
Life continued being good for the next few days. On Monday, Lena cashed her first paycheck. She considered opening an account, but the check was so small it seemed premature. On Tuesday, Beth came to work as an elf, but with a top-secret agenda – to lighten Cassidy’s load. The two girls got along well, and Beth seemed to know intuitively when it was time for Cassidy to have a short break. Plus the children seemed to just keep on coming. A couple of preschools even called ahead to schedule field trips later in the week to visit Mrs. Santa. Then, to everyone’s delight and surprise, the local news decided to do a story on Mrs. Santa.
“This is great publicity for the store,” Camilla told Lena on Wednesday morning, shortly before the news team was expected to arrive. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
Lena was more than a little nervous to be interviewed on television, but the newswoman, Maria Fernandez, was witty and fun and engaging. So Lena stayed in character, and as the interview wound down, she felt completely relaxed.
“Maybe we’ll do this again right before Christmas,” Maria told her. “It might be fun for the kid viewers to hear you talking about Santa getting everything ready for Christmas.”
“Oh, yes,” Lena said. “No one knows how hard that man works right up until the big night, or how hungry he gets out on the road delivering all those gifts, squeezing them down the chimneys and such, or that he prefers gingersnap cookies over chocolate chip.”
“Really?” Maria shook her head and winked. “I didn’t know.”
Lena smiled at the children standing in line. “And did you know that Santa does bed checks to make sure children are sleeping before he enters the house?”
The crew began packing up their equipment.
“The spot will run at 5:00, 6:00, and 11:00,” Maria told Lena.
“Merry Christmas to all of you.” Lena handed out candy canes to the crew. “And I’ll be sure to tell Santa you’ve all been good girls and boys.”
They laughed as they left. She went back over to her Mrs. Santa chair and prepared herself to receive the line of children waiting their turn. Really, who wouldn’t want a job like this? she thought as she hugged a little girl with blonde curls, trying to guess what she wanted for Christmas.
Lena was tempted to sneak up to the electronics department during her break to see how the news spot went, but figured it might be embarrassing to be caught watching herself on TV. Also, she was sure that Cassidy and Beth would want in on the fun as well, and all three of them huddled in front of a big screen might be a bit much.
Still, she felt happy as she walked home in her red-and-white Santa coat that evening. More so than before. In the past several days, thanks to the coat, she had been recognized coming from or going to work. At first she’d felt uneasy when asked if she really was Mrs. Santa. She always said yes, but she drew the line at signing autographs. When asked why not, she’d said that Santa had a strict policy about this ever since someone had tried to sell one of his signatures on eBay last year. Of course, that had made the parents laugh.
As Lena entered the store on Thursday, she felt something in the air. Everything looked the same – the gold and silver Christmas tree, the neat racks and shelves. It sounded the same with “The Twelve Days of Christmas” now playing. It even smelled the same, a mixture of perfume and fabric. Still, she could feel it beneath her skin – something was different . . . something was wrong. She was about to ride the escalator down to the basement when, once again, she was met by Camilla.
“We need to talk,” she said in a no-nonsense tone, nodding upward. Again Lena followed her up to the third floor. Although her heart was pounding with anxiety and she feared that last night’s news story had somehow revealed her true identity, Lena told herself that this was probably nothing. Just her overactive imagination looking for trouble again. Unless it was about Cassidy. Once the office door was closed, Lena immediately inquired about her.
“Cassidy is okay . . . well, as okay as can be expected once she hears the news.”
“The news?”
Camilla went to her desk and held up what appeared to be a handwritten letter. Then she picked up Lena’s job application. “An acquaintance of yours – Justine Grant – wrote a letter to inform the store that our own Mrs. Santa is actually an ex-con with a felon record.”
Lena sank into a leather chair.
“And when I checked on your application, sure enough, I noticed a little note on the back . . . with an asterisk that had been overlooked.”
Lena felt sick.
“I still couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. So I did some online checking. And sure enough, your name showed up in a nasty little embezzlement scandal. Exactly like Ms. Grant’s letter described. And another thing. Ms. Grant threatened to take her story to the press if you continued here as Mrs. Santa. She made it clear that it would make a very good story. And she’s right. It would make a great story. For the press anyway. Not for this store. A story like that would probably be the final death blow for Harrington’s.”
Lena felt her cheeks grow hot and her eyes fill with tears. She wanted to stand up and defend herself, to somehow speak the truth and make Camilla believe it. But she knew it was hopeless – she’d been unable to defend herself before when it really mattered, so how could she possibly do it now? She wanted to turn and run, yet she just sat there with her head hanging as if she really were guilty.
“I’ll have to let you go, of course.” Camilla’s voice was stiff and cold.
“Of course.” Lena still didn’t look up.
“This is very humiliating for Harrington’s. Just what we don’t need right now.”
“I’m sorry.” Finally Lena lifted her head. “But I can explain if you’ll – ”
“All I want you to explain is how I will tell Cassidy.” Her voice was like cold steel and her eyes were like fireballs ready to burn right through Lena. “How will I te
ll my daughter that her dream about Mrs. Santa and her thrill at finding you, spending time with you, believing all your stories . . . How will I tell her it was all just a lie?”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No!” She slammed her hand and the paperwork down on her desk with a loud bang. “I forbid you to speak to my daughter ever again. And don’t ever step foot in this store again or I will have you arrested. Do you understand?”
“But what will you – ”
“You are dismissed. Your check will be mailed to you. Please, leave!”
With tears in her eyes, Lena reached for the doorknob and rushed out. There waiting outside of Camilla’s office was Sam. For a brief crazy moment, she thought he was there for her – perhaps to help her out or give legal advice.
“Oh, Sam!” Camilla grabbed his hands. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“What’s going on? Is it Cassidy?” His eyes were creased with concern. They embraced and he assured her that everything would be okay. That was all Lena could hear as she turned and ran from them. Instead of using the escalator, she headed for the stairway where no one would see her. Dashing out the back door, she ran all the way back to Miller House.
“Hey, hey,” TJ said when she ran up the steps to the porch. “It’s Mrs. Santa. I saw you on TV last night and couldn’t believe my eyes. What’s Santa bringing me for Christmas?”
But she shot past him and through the lobby, where Lucy also made a Mrs. Santa comment. She ran up the stairs and into her room, where she sank onto her knees by her bed and cried. She wished she could pray. But what would be the use? If this was how things were going to continue to go, why should she even bother?
She had known it was useless to try to escape her past. Yet she’d allowed herself to be tricked again – slowly reeled in – until she had almost believed she was going to make it. Playing Mrs. Santa . . . being interviewed on television . . . imagining that she could have a real life . . . possibly even touch the lives of others. What a fool she had been. What a silly, pompous little fool.
Christmas at Harrington's Page 10
