Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost

by McConnell, Lucy

  He scooted off the rock and motioned for Brody to come with him while staying behind his back. “What do you want?” He used his office voice, the rough one that got quick results and even faster answers. Brody ducked a little farther behind, startled by Tannon’s tone. Tannon reached back and placed a hand on Brody’s shoulder to let him know that he wasn’t upset with him. “It’s okay, son.”

  Ms. Cratchit was indeed wearing a bright pink, full-body snow parka lined with black fur that was clearly visible in the hood framing her heart-shaped face. Her white hair was draped over her left shoulder and hung down in soft waves, and her purple eyes shone with equal parts anger and wonder. “You have a son?” she practically whispered.

  He nodded, not sure what her intentions were.

  She pointed a finger at him. “You have a son?!”

  He nodded again.

  She stared incredulously at him for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Tannon opened his mouth to answer and then shut it again, unsure what the correct answer would be. She’d been his personal assistant for a day, and yet she acted like she was entitled to his personal information.

  She began pacing—stomping was more like it. Her black boots left tiny imprints in the snow. Her presence was so large and her clothing so loud that it came as a shock that she was small of stature. “… best friend my stocking …” She sputtered and came to a stop, looking at Brody like he was a mystery. She took him in from head to toe and then settled for looking right in his eyes.

  The snow stopped falling. Not that it stopped snowing—no. The snow hovered in the air as if time itself were standing still. A rush of warm wind swirled everything like the inside of a snow globe. Tannon shut his eyes against the flakes. When he opened then again, Ms. Cratchit was in front of Brody, bending slightly to be at his level, her eyes bright with wonder.

  “Do you write letters to Santa?” she asked him. Her smile was one of love and acceptance and openness. Watching her was like watching Christmas lights twinkle; it left him content and feeling like a boy again—a boy who didn’t have to think about his next step or his lack of hair. He could just be himself.

  Brody stepped out from behind Tannon, not showing any of his usual reserve. “Yeah.”

  Her nose wrinkled with secret delight. “What’s your name?”

  Tannon held up his hand, stopping Brody from answering. No matter how enchanting she appeared in this moment, this woman had stormed out of his office not two days ago, leaving it much more organized in her wake but still leaving in quite a state. He certainly wasn’t going to hand out his son’s name to a relative stranger who had called him, among other things, a Grinch. “Ms. Cratchit, what are you doing out here?”

  She blinked as if coming to herself and straightened to her full height, which was barely to his shoulder. “My slllle-verado broke down.” She motioned behind her.

  He wasn’t buying it. The trees were much too close together for a truck to have gotten between them, and the company paths were gated off. “In the woods?”

  “Unfortunately.” She stepped forward, brushing her gloveless hands against her legs as she moved, making a soft swish-swish sound. “And the fact that you’re the first people I’ve seen since then makes me wonder if my stars are truly out of alignment.” She headed for the rock they’d been sitting on before, and he thought he heard her say, “Christmas Magic never was subtle.” But that would have been ridiculous. He’d been thinking awfully hard of Miss Kringle earlier and his subconscious must have misheard her.

  “And what were you doing in the woods?” he pressed as he and Brody followed behind.

  She frowned. “Reconsidering my life choices.” Her response was full of enough sarcasm that he could be certain she hadn’t enjoyed her foray into the pine boughs.

  He looked up and down the empty road. There hadn’t been much traffic this morning, and now, when he wanted someone to come along and solve the problem of Ms. Cratchit, there were only empty lanes and stillness. “Would you like me to call someone? A family member or friend?”

  A shadow crossed her face. “My family is quite busy, and—” She accused him with her eyes. “—I recently lost my best friend.”

  Tannon tossed his hands in the air. She was unreasonable. It wasn’t his fault she’d lost her friend. He didn’t even know her. Not really. Yet she’d caused him to feel more deeply than anyone, save his son and Miss Kringle, in a very long time. Intrigued, he waited to see what she would do or say next.

  She threw back her hood and pulled her hair atop her head in a perfectly messy bun, securing it with an elastic she retrieved from her small shoulder bag. A bag like that should be out of place in this environment, but it suited her. Ms. Cratchit’s delicate features would not loan themselves to a great deal of outdoor adventures, yet she’d scrambled up the rock as if she climbed often, finding two footholds that worked as steps and a crevice on the top for a handhold.

  Brody craned his neck to look up at her. “What are you doing up there?”

  Ms. Cratchit melted under his sweet inquiry like a snowball next to a warm fire. “Wondering what you were doing up here. I don’t want to interrupt your outing. It looked like the two of you were having a good time.”

  Tannon briefly wondered how long she’d been watching them and what she thought of him as a parent. There were thousands of parenting and single-parenting books, and he’d read his fair share, but none of them had specific instructions for his Brody and he often felt like he was walking in a dark room with his hands out in front of him. Would she share his Dad’s view that he’d failed in this area, or would she see into his heart and know of his love for Brody?

  He shook his head. He shouldn’t be worried about what this sweet and unstable person thought of him.

  “We’re watching the whales.” Brody reached up, and she tugged him atop the rock with ease.

  Tannon wasn’t about to leave his son up there with a woman he hardly knew. In order to position his foot on the first step, he had to move it out with his hand. His face burned as Ms. Cratchit watched. He waited for her to blurt out, “You’re missing a leg? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The words never came. Perhaps she did have a filter.

  He never really trusted his false leg to hold him without slipping, so he used his upper body for most of the work. Which only showed him how weak he’d become working in an office every day and working out every other or every third. Not that he was skinny by any means; he was fit—just not as fit as he once was. He used to be able to do so much more physical activity, and he regretted letting that part of his life slide.

  He was almost to the top when Ms. Cratchit’s hand appeared before his face. “Here, I’ll pull you up.”

  If there was one thing he hated, it was looking weak in front of others. He may be slow and out of shape-ish, but he wasn’t so weak that he needed a lift from a woman he could dub a snowflake. “I don’t need your help.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Be a stubborn man and do it alone.” She marched over and sat on the far side of Brody, leaving Tannon less rock to clamor over to find a seat. He appreciated her thoughtfulness and resented it at the same time. Who was she to pity him the loss of a leg? He didn’t ask anyone to make exceptions for him, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Lowering himself with as much grace as he could while keeping his prosthetic stretched out in front of him, he landed next to Brody. Brody smiled up at the two of them as he clasped both their hands. “Now we’re like the whale family.”

  Tannon smiled down at his son even as his stomach swirled with unease. Ms. Cratchit was a befuddled woman who made his heart race at the same time he wanted to yell, “Shields up, Captain!” Being near her was a confusing experience.

  “Tell me all about them.” Ms. Cratchit crossed her legs at the ankle and leaned back on her hands as if she had all the time in the world to listen to a nine-year-old recount his morning.

  Brody started with the last whale
s they’d seen and worked all the way back to what he’d had for breakfast.

  “Do you have waffles with whipped cream or syrup?” she asked.

  “Syrup.”

  “Interesting. I once had a pancake with bacon cooked inside.”

  Brody’s nose wrinkled. “Gross.”

  “Oh, but it was lovely.” She smiled easily, and he returned the gesture.

  Though Tannon was on the outside of this conversation, he didn’t feel like an outsider. The quick looks Ms. Cratchit shared with him over Brody’s head, as if the boy was melting her heart, kept him quite involved.

  “What’s your favorite class in school?” she prompted Brody to continue talking, soaking him up.

  “Recess.” Brody spoke with all seriousness and knowledge gained in four grades.

  She tipped her head back and laughed, the sound ringing out like jingle bells. Brody’s eyes lit with wonder and he grabbed Tannon’s hand as if needing something to keep him grounded. Tannon held tight; he could use a little grounding himself.

  “I loved recess too.” She tapped his nose. There was something off … she wasn’t wearing gloves. Both he and Tannon had on knit gloves to ward off the chill. Yet her hands weren’t pink with cold or chapped. They were smooth and beautiful.

  “Tell me what you want for Christmas.” Ms. Cratchit’s request was so genuine that Tannon could believe she would deliver. His thoughts went to Miss Kringle, to her job in Santa’s mail room. He supposed Ms. Cratchit and Miss Kringle would be good friends. The air around them hung heavy with expectation as they waited for Brody to answer.

  His small hands grabbed his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

  Ms. Cratchit glanced up at Tannon. Their eyes met briefly, and a spark shot through his system. Though she’d taken great offense at his behavior in the office, she had been nothing but wonderful to Brody, and there was a connection, a magic wrapping up the three of them. Before he thought better, he said, “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

  Ms. Cratchit glanced back at the trees where her Silverado had broken down. He still wasn’t sure what she was doing tromping over his private property. Her appearance was like something out of the book of strange coincidences. And now that he’d had a moment to think about how they’d all come to be sitting atop a rock, warm and comfortable despite the howling wind below and the snow that slowly accumulated around them, he wished he could pull the invitation back. He should drop her at the nearest mechanic and let them figure out this crazy woman.

  “I’m almost afraid to say no,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” he asked. She mumbled a lot.

  “I said I’d love to.” She hopped up and offered Brody a hand and pulled him to his feet. With an eyebrow raised in challenge, a look that said even a child knew better than to be rude in this instance, she offered Tannon a hand.

  He removed his glove to get a better grip. The only thing more embarrassing than needing help was falling. Falling was horrible. He expected Ms. Cratchit’s skin to feel cold since she hadn’t worn gloves all day, but her palm was warm and soft. His heart zinged at their touch and he caught himself staring into her eyes as she looked down at him. Her hair fell forward, and he reached up with his free hand to tuck it behind her ear. The chill that had nipped at him all morning disappeared.

  She blushed, a pretty dusty pink color that brought to mind the hint-of-rose paper line. “Thank you,” she said softly. Stepping back, she braced her feet and tugged on his arm. He popped up without any trouble, landing exactly right on his feet to have balance, but standing precariously close to Ms. Cratchit. His hand still held hers, pressing it against his chest. She was so exotic with her white hair and amethyst eyes; he could look at her all day and not get bored. She had a pert nose that turned up slightly at the end. Her prominent cheekbones were the perfect accent to her wide eyes. And her pink lips were full and inviting.

  Wait, that wasn’t right. Her lips were not at all inviting. They were just lips like every other woman’s in the world. Although he had a hard time looking away from them when she was close enough that he could smell the faint scent of sugar and spice on her skin, he had to remind himself that she was, quite possibly, mentally unstable.

  After making their way back down the rock, mostly sliding on his part, they buckled into the Rover with Brody in the back seat. “Can I watch the Santa Clause movie?” he asked.

  “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.” Tannon put on his signal and pulled onto the deserted, twisty road. The blacktop swerved and turned, staying parallel with the beach. In the summer, couples brought their convertibles along this road, the top down and their hair flying in all directions. It was ranked as one of the country’s most romantic drives, but he preferred it with the trees heavy with snow and a blanket of quiet.

  “Christmas isn’t a time of year; it’s a feeling of the heart.” Ms. Cratchit twisted in her seat to ask Brody, “Do you like Christmas?”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “What do you like about it? Wait. Let me guess … the presents.”

  Brody’s smile filled the rearview mirror. “Nope.”

  “Nope? Is it decorating the tree?”

  He shook his head.

  “Singing Christmas carols?”

  Another shake.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to give me a hint.”

  Brody grinned, having bested her at the guessing game. “My dad gets the whole day off and we get to play.”

  Ms. Cratchit’s hand covered her heart. “You just keep getting better and better, kid.” She reached back and patted his knee. “I’ll bet you’re at the top of Santa’s good list this year.”

  Something in the way she said good list created a sense of déjà vu in Tannon. Miss Kringle had often teased about putting him on the Naughty List. She wrote with the same conviction that the list actually existed that Ms. Cratchit used when speaking. He studied her out of the corner of his eye as she turned back around and adjusted her seat belt. She was about the right age …

  “Can I, Dad?”

  “Can you what?”

  Brody’s chin jutted forward in exasperation for having to repeat his request. “Can I watch the Santa movie?”

  He tapped a few buttons and the movie cover appeared on the screen. Brody put on the headphones he used in the car and settled back, leaving the adults to their conversation.

  Tannon traced a leather seam in the steering wheel as he worked to come up with a way to approach the subject. He’d never actually asked someone if they were Santa’s daughter before.

  “You’re uncomfortable,” observed Ms. Cratchit.

  “And I thought I was hiding it so well.” He gave her a rueful smile, the one he used to use with his mom when he was in trouble.

  She blushed that delightful pink again. “You were. I’m just sensitive to these things.”

  “Oh?”

  The corners of her mouth lifted, but her lips were firmly shut. She wasn’t going to divulge much about herself unless he asked. They had another 45 minutes until they reached the outskirts of town.

  “Have you seen this one?” Tannon pointed to the movie screen hanging from the ceiling just behind the driver’s seat.

  She laughed lightly. “Yeah.”

  “Do you like it?”

  She giggled. “Yeah.”

  He blew out a breath. Things had been going well; she seemed normal for a moment there. And now she was giggling over a children’s Christmas flick. “I don’t get you, Ms. Cratchit. One minute you’re almost normal, and the next you’re … not.”

  She glanced down at the ends of her hair, hanging over her shoulder. “I know.” She dropped her face in her hands. “I’ve had a rough couple days.”

  He couldn’t believe he was about to ask this … “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head quickly and then nodded slowly. “Are you really going to close the mill?”

  If he was a level-two uncomfortable before, then her que
stion brought him up to level six.

  “I’m not asking for the press or for the employees. I want to know.” Her hand came to rest on his forearm, creating a sense of awareness in him that he hadn’t known before. “Tannon, can you really put people out of a job at Christmas?”

  The sound of his given name, spoken with such familiarity and—dare he say it?— tenderness was almost enough to weaken his resolve. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Brody was the most important thing. Hadn’t the boy just said that his favorite part of Christmas was playing with his dad? Playing with his father shouldn’t be a once-a-year treat. “If the offer is right, I can’t see how I can say no.”

  She pulled her hand away from him. “But it’s Christmas.”

  “What does Christmas have to do with it? Would selling in February be better?”

  “Yes.” She answered as if his question was silly.

  He rubbed his forehead.

  “Won’t you reconsider?”

  Reconsider being a father? “No.”

  She glanced out the window. “Pull over.”

  “What?”

  “Let me out.”

  He leaned forward to see the sky through the windshield. Dark clouds threatened. They were on their way to a big storm. “I can’t let you out here. We’re miles away from Elderberry.”

  “Your lack of Christmas spirit is giving me a headache.”

  He laughed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not funny.” She rubbed her forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time more contrite. “If I promise not to disparage Christmas for the rest of the drive, will you allow me to deliver you to safety?”

  She folded her arms. “I suppose. But I’m not changing my mind. You’re making a big mistake—one you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

  He thought of the joy he’d witnessed in Brody’s hazel eyes today. “Agree to disagree.”

  “Fine.” She began humming, tapping her fingers on her knee to keep beat. It took Tannon a few minutes to figure out the tune. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” She was particularly good at emphasizing that he’d better watch out, which only made him chuckle to himself.