“Hopefully his math is better than his spelling.”
The girl laughed. “Good luck, Mrs. Santa. By the way, cool coat.”
Lena almost said that it was this very coat that had gotten her into all this trouble in the first place. But maybe that wasn’t the real reason. And maybe she’d gotten into a good kind of trouble. Being thrust into the public like that, forced to deal with things . . . maybe it was what she needed.
As Lena walked the several blocks over to Jemima’s new grade school, she was feeling hopeful and positive. And she looked forward to spending time with Jemima again. Worried that she might not find the school or it would take longer to get there than expected, she had purposely set out fifteen minutes earlier than Sally had told her. As a result she was one of the first adults standing outside the school, waiting for the kids. As a few more gathered, she sensed the other moms were keeping their distance, looking at her with suspicion.
Finally a petite brunette approached. “Were you the one who played Mrs. Santa at Harrington’s?”
Lena braced herself. “Yes.”
The woman frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for school to let out.” Lena glanced at her watch to find there was still about ten minutes until school would end.
“Why?” the woman demanded.
“I’m here to pick up a child.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You don’t have kids at this school. If you did, I would know because I’m the PTA president and I know everyone. Including Justine Grant. And according to her, you are bad news.”
“You’re right about one thing.” Lena smiled. “I don’t have any children. I’m picking up a child for a friend.”
The woman looked over her shoulder, calling to the others who were watching. “It seems that Mrs. Santa is here to pick up someone else’s kid. What do we think of that?”
The other women drifted over and started to question her, asking things like, “What friend?” and “Which child?” and “Were you really in prison?” and “Why did you move to New Haven anyway?” and just too many questions to answer succinctly.
“Look,” Lena said loudly. “I’m simply picking up a little girl who’s new at school – and life’s been a little hard for her recently, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make it any worse right now.”
“How do we know you’re authorized to pick up someone else’s child?” the PTA president challenged. “What if you’re a kidnapper?”
Lena laughed as she held out her arms. “Yes, I suppose a kidnapper would show up wearing a coat like this and in broad daylight, right outside of the school grounds with all of you as witnesses. Plus, if you’ll notice, I don’t have a car. So of course I must plan to snatch a child and make a run for it on foot. I’m sure the police won’t be able to spot me or catch me.”
“She’s got a point,” a tall, athletic-looking woman said. “And if she did make a run for it, I think I could take her.” The others laughed, and Lena hoped this was the end of the grade-school inquisition.
“Oh, come on, you guys.” A woman in pink sweats shook her head. “You’re starting to sound like a lynch mob. Give Mrs. Santa a break, okay?”
“Well, I plan to keep an eye on her.” Ms. PTA President held up her cell phone. “If the child in question doesn’t seem to know her or doesn’t want to go with her, I’m calling 9-1-1 ASAP. And nobody can stop me.”
Suddenly Lena was seriously worried. Suppose Jemima had heard some mean school-yard rumors about the crazy Mrs. Santa and had put two and two together to equal . . . what, five? But what if Jemima became afraid of Lena or if she refused to come with her? Even worse, what if the PTA president really did call 9-1-1, and this suddenly turned into a sensational scene where the press showed up and Jemima’s face appeared in the news and Sally’s husband figured out where they were? Maybe Lena should just leave and call Sally.
“What are you doing here?” demanded someone from behind her. Lena turned to see Justine Grant approaching them. Wearing what looked like a power suit, like she’d just stepped out of a boardroom meeting or perhaps a press conference, she strode up to Lena and looked her straight in the eyes.
“I’m waiting to pick up my friend’s little girl.”
“People trust you with their children?”
“People who know me do. People who don’t know me, the ones who believe hearsay instead of the truth, well, they probably don’t trust anyone anyway.” Lena glanced at her watch to see it was still a few minutes until 2:30.
“Are you claiming you weren’t convicted of a felony?” Justine asked. “That you’re innocent?”
“I am innocent.”
Justine laughed then turned to the others. “I’ll give it to her, this woman is smooth. Pretending to be a bookkeeper, she quietly embezzled thousands of dollars from my family’s church, money that kids worked hard to raise for missions and things. But Lena was so good at stealing that it took a few years for anyone to notice. Then she was arrested and convicted and spent eight years in prison.” She turned back to glare at Lena. “You really expect anyone to believe you’re innocent now just because you’re out of prison?”
“People can believe what they like. I know I’m innocent. I’m just sorry I didn’t have the backbone to stand up for myself sooner. In case you really care to know the truth, Daniel Markham is the one who stole that money and – ”
“Oh, sure, blame Pastor Markham. As if he didn’t suffer enough after what you did to him and everyone.”
Lena laughed. “Yes, I’m sure he suffered a lot, probably cried his way to the bank after stealing the church’s money as well as my inheritance. And then he married Darla Knight, the woman he’d been having an affair with while he was married to me. But I wonder if he stayed with her very long, or did he just take her money too? She was loaded, remember?”
Justine looked caught off guard.
“Maybe the truth will come to light someday,” Lena said quietly. “But for now I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to pick up my friend’s daughter without making a scene. You seem to care about the children, Justine. That’s what you told the newspaper reporter.” Kids were spilling out of the building now. “If you really care about them, don’t make life any harder for this little girl.”
Justine turned and walked away, and the children trickled over to their moms. Lena spied Jemima slowly emerging from the building, cautiously coming down the steps of the school as if she wasn’t sure who was picking her up. Or maybe Sally had warned her to be watchful in case her father tried to snatch her away. Hopefully it wasn’t because Jemima knew about Mrs. Santa and felt wary of Lena. Just then she spotted Lena and started running toward her.
“Lena!” she cried as she ran into her arms. “I’m so happy to see you!”
Lena enveloped her in a big hug made warmer by the thick Santa coat. “I’m happy to see you too.” She kneeled down to zip up Jemima’s jacket, tucking her hair into her hood then tying the string beneath her chin. “It’s cold out today,” she told her, “and we have a ways to walk.”
“Can we go to the library?” Jemima asked.
“Great idea!” Lena took the warm and slightly sticky little hand in hers, turned her back on the mommy brigade, and walked away. She knew they weren’t all mean-spirited and cantankerous women. It was even possible that Justine wasn’t as hard as she seemed, but simply misinformed. Even so, Lena was glad to escape them. Without a doubt, standing up for herself in an attempt to clear her name would not get any easier. And she would probably continue to attract enemies. But in the long run she hoped it would be worth it.
CHAPTER
13
Jemima headed straight for the Christmas books in the children’s section. She gathered up several, hoping they could check them out, but Lena was unsure. “You stay here and do these puzzles,” she said, “and I’ll go see about getting a library card.”
With one eye on Jemima, Lena waited for the librarian at th
e children’s desk to help her then explained she’d like to get a library card.
“All I need are two pieces of ID,” the librarian said.
“Well,” Lena said quietly, “that’s the problem. You see, I’m new to town, and the truth is I was just released from prison and I only have one piece of ID and – ”
“Are you Mrs. Santa?”
Lena forced a smile. “I was Mrs. Santa. But I’m not – ”
“I’ve been following your story on the news and I’m so irked by the whole thing.” The woman shook her head with a scowl. “It puts such a negative spin on Christmas.”
“I know it sounds bad,” Lena said. “But the truth is I was convicted of a crime I didn’t even commit and – ”
“No, no. That’s not it.” The woman waved her hand. “I’m irritated at how they’re treating you. It’s so unfair. Even if you did commit a crime, if you served your time and if you’re sorry and you want a fresh start, it’s wrong for people to hold you back like that. I saw the news spot on TV and thought you made a lovely Mrs. Santa. I actually wanted to invite you here to read a story for the children some morning. In fact, if you have the time, I might still be interested.”
“I have the time now.”
The librarian nodded. “Yes, it seems you do. But I suppose you don’t have the costume.”
Lena shook her head.
“Although that coat would almost work.”
Suddenly Lena got an idea. “What if I did have a costume?”
The librarian smiled. “Then I’d welcome you to come and do story hour tomorrow. Saturday morning is our biggest story hour, and it’s especially busy the closer we get to Christmas. Moms like having an hour-long break to get a little shopping done.”
“I’ll do it.” Lena nodded.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She frowned. “I just wish I’d had a chance to get something in the newspaper. Perhaps you’d be available to do it two Saturdays in a row.”
“I’m sure that’s a possibility.”
The librarian stuck out her hand. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Grace Lewis and the head librarian. I don’t usually work at the children’s desk, but Joan was sick today.”
“I’m Lena Markham. Aka Mrs. Santa.”
“And now about that library card.” Grace’s brow creased. “I understand the ID problem. But since I know you because of the TV news and the paper – and because you’ll be our guest storyteller tomorrow – I will bend the rules. But I’ll limit you to checking out just one book the first time. Is that okay?”
Lena smiled. “That’s wonderful. Thank you, Grace.”
“Story hour begins at ten. But I’ll get someone to introduce you first and then you can make your big entrance.” Grace rubbed her hands together. “This will be such fun.”
Finally, with her new library card in hand, Lena checked out the picture book Jemima had selected. Naturally it was a Christmas book. As they walked home, Lena told Jemima about story hour tomorrow.
“Can I come too?” Jemima asked.
“Yes. But I’ll have to tell you a secret first. Do you think you can keep it?”
Jemima nodded. “I’m good at secrets!”
“Tomorrow I’m going to dress up like Mrs. Santa.”
“Really?” Jemima looked up with wide-eyed awe.
“Yes. And I want you to pretend with me that I really am Mrs. Santa, okay?”
She nodded somberly. “Okay.”
“And that means I’ll have to stop and get a few things at the fabric store. Is that all right with you?”
“Yeah!”
They stopped at the fabric store, and as she navigated the aisles, Lena thankfully remembered her mother for having taught her to sew as a girl. Of course, Lena knew this project wouldn’t be easy, since without a sewing machine it would involve only hand sewing. But how else would Mrs. Santa sew?
Pushing the cart ahead of her and stopping to answer Jemima’s questions, she soon located a bolt of red velvet that was 50 percent off. She’d use it for a vest and gathered skirt, similar to what she’d worn in the store. Then she added a bolt of white plush for fur trim, also 50 percent off. It seemed that this was late in the season for buying Christmas fabrics, and that was fine with her. Looking in the bargain bin, she found some shiny silver buttons, lace trim, red and green embroidery tape, and even some white cotton for 99 cents a yard that would work for a little apron and hair bonnet. Finally she stopped by the felt section and picked up a bolt of green and red.
“What’s that for?” Jemima asked, as she did every time Lena picked up something.
“I was just thinking . . . how would you like to be Mrs. Santa’s elf?”
Jemima looked like she was about to burst. “Yes! Yes!” She began to hop up and down.
“Here’s the deal,” Lena said as they wheeled the cart to the register. “I’ll try to have your elf outfit ready, but if it’s not done by tomorrow, I’ll have it done for the next library story time. And that will be the Saturday before Christmas, so it will be extra special.”
“How about these too?” Jemima picked up a card with silver jingle bells and shook it. “Shouldn’t Mrs. Santa have bells?” Lena was tempted to pass on the bells, which were $2.99. But the hopeful look in Jemima’s eyes made her say okay. Lena knew this costume was an expense she couldn’t really afford on her limited funds, but she felt compelled to do it. And thanks to the markdowns and clearance items, along with an additional 10 percent off coupon that the salesclerk let her use, the total was $27.60. Not bad. Still, it would take a toll on her budget. But at least she had a check coming from Harrington’s. That would help.
As they reached Miller House, Lena noticed Mrs. Davies, the elderly woman who occasionally helped watch Jemima, coming toward them, waving as if she wanted them to wait for her.
“Hello, Mrs. Davies,” Lena said as she paused by the walk.
“There was a man here this afternoon,” Mrs. Davies huffed. “He was looking for you, Lena.”
“A man?” Lena frowned. “Did he say who he was?”
“No, but he looked important. Had on a suit and overcoat . . . and a briefcase.” She frowned. “I hope it’s not trouble.”
For Jemima’s sake, Lena laughed. “If it’s trouble, it wouldn’t be his first visit.”
“What have you girls got there?” Mrs. Davies eyed their bags.
“Lena is going to sew a Mrs. Santa dress,” Jemima announced as they went up the steps. “And I’m going to be an elf.”
“I heard Mrs. Santa got fired,” Mrs. Davies said to Lena with a questioning look.
“Now, really, how do you fire Mrs. Santa?” Lena winked at the old woman as she opened the door. She quickly explained about the library tomorrow and how she wanted to get it done in time.
“Are you a good seamstress?” Mrs. Davies peered at her.
“Thanks to my mother, I used to be fairly good,” Lena said. “But it’s been awhile. And sewing without a machine will be a challenge.”
“I have a machine,” Mrs. Davies said. “You can use it if you want, but you’ll have to use it in my room. I won’t let my Singer out of my room.”
“Really? You don’t mind if I borrow it?”
“Not if you let me help you some.” Mrs. Davies grinned. “I love to sew and I hardly ever get the opportunity anymore.”
“Can I help too?” Jemima asked.
“You’re an elf, aren’t you?” Lena asked. “Of course you’ll help.”
Fortunately, Mrs. Davies’s room was one of the larger ones, but it didn’t take long to get it so cluttered with red, green, and white fabrics that it actually resembled a Santa workshop. Lena did all the cutting and pinning of the pieces together. Mrs. Davies did the actual sewing. And Jemima was kept busy with gluing felt shapes onto what would eventually become her elf vest, hat, and shoes.
“I guess you’ll have to wear your white tights under these,” Lena told Jemima as they were adjusting the green felt shorts to fit her.
“I have red tights,” Jemima said. “But I’ll have to find them and wash them.”
“Red tights would be perfect,” Lena said.
“Run and get me my reading glasses, will you?” Mrs. Davies said to Jemima. “Over there by my bed.” Holding on to her elf shorts, Jemima returned with some wire-rimmed glasses. “Oh, not those ones, honey. They’re so scratched up they’re practically worthless. Toss them in the trash, will you? I want the ones in the glasses case. I just got them.”
“Wait,” Lena said before Jemima tossed the glasses. “Do you mind if I keep those glasses, Mrs. Davies, to wear with my costume?”
“Sure, but you won’t be able to see much.”
Lena tried them on, sliding them down her nose like a granny, and was able to look right over the top. “They’re perfect,” she said.
“Now hold still,” Mrs. Davies told Jemima. “I don’t want to poke you with a pin.”
They worked until almost 7:00, and then Lena realized she needed to get Jemima fed. “We’re having dinner at the Red Hen Café tonight,” she told Mrs. Davies. “Do you want to join us?”
“No, you two run along.” Mrs. Davies, still hunched over her old sewing machine, nodded to her little fridge by the table. “I have some leftovers in there from my lunch. I’ll be fine.”
So Lena and Jemima hurried on over to the café, where Lena quickly explained to Sally why they were running so late.
“Don’t worry,” Sally assured her. “This isn’t a school night. Jemima can stay up later than usual if you want.” She winked at Lena. “And if she sleeps in a little later in the morning, I won’t mind a bit since I don’t work until ten tomorrow.”
Jemima told her mom about getting to be an elf and Sally laughed. “Great, I suppose I’ll have to splurge on a disposable camera. This ought to be good.”
By the time Lena and Jemima got back to Miller House, Mrs. Davies was nearly finished with the sewing. “About all that’s left is the handwork now,” she told Lena as she shook out the long, full skirt, causing the white fur trim around the hem to shed a bit. “The vest needs the buttons and buttonholes. And we need some elastic through the casing on the cap . . . and a few other things.” The three of them worked for a while, but as it got close to 9:00, Lena knew it was time to get Jemima to bed.
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