A Family Under the Christmas Tree (18 page)

“Tell her hello for me,” Louise said. “I really should call her. It would be such fun to reconnect. Where are my manners? Let me introduce you to my friend Simon Bichon.” She obviously caught the curious look Tucker had sent Simon.

The two men shook hands. David couldn't help notice the way they sized each other up.

“
And this is my granddaughter Sophie and our neighbors David and Troy Murphy. The overgrown pup is my dog Riggs.”

Sophie, then David, shook Tucker's hand. Tucker smiled at Troy and petted Riggs.

“This is a nice place you have here,” David said.

“Yes, it is,” Sophie agreed. “Such a fun family environment.”

“Thank you.” Tucker appeared pleased by the compliment. “Did you all find Christmas trees?”

“We did. They are being cut and prepared to take home as we speak,” David told him. “We're headed to Santa's house now.”

The older man's eyes twinkled. “I won't keep you then.”

He gave Riggs one last ruffle behind the ears and strode away toward the concessions tent, greeting people as he went.

David led the way past the busy entrance gate. A pole with a red-and-white sign pointed the way down a tree-lined path to a twelve-by-twelve red house nestled among the greenery. A ramp led up to a red door the color of Santa's suit, and wavy white molding reminiscent of Santa's beard welcomed them.

There was a line made up of children, mostly six and under, bundled against the cold in hats and mittens. The youngest ones were held by their parents. The line started at the front door and stretched down the path. They joined the line.

Overhead the early morning sun that had brightened the day had disappeared behind a mass of dark clouds rolling in from the west. The temperature dropped by several degrees. By the time they made it to the front of the line, a drizzle had started. David was glad the drier weather had held out as long as it had.

A woman dressed as an elf in red-and-white-striped fleece pants and a green jacket trimmed in white fur greeted them at the entrance. She wore green mud boots instead of curled-toed
shoes. David paid the fee for Troy to go inside to have a picture taken with Santa.

“Can we come in, too?” Louise asked. She held up Riggs's leash.

“Of course.” With a grand bow, the elf gestured for them all to crowd through the doorway.

Inside the small wood-paneled house a warm fire burned in a gas fireplace. A large reindeer antler chandelier hung overhead. A festively decorated Christmas tree surrounded by cheerily wrapped presents stood in the corner. In the center of the room sat Santa in all his red glory on a large, ornately carved wooden chair. The man's girth was what one expected of a Santa, and his white beard and bushy eyebrows appeared real to David.

“Ho, ho, ho,” the man in red intoned. “Who do we have here?” He held out his hand to Troy.

Troy tightened his hand around David's and didn't move. His eyes were big and his mouth hung open.

David gently nudged Troy. “It's okay. Go on.”

With an audible gulp, Troy slowly made his way to Santa's side. “Hi, Santa.”

“What's your name?” Santa asked.

“Troy. Troy Murphy.”

Santa patted his knee. “Climb on up here, child, and tell Santa what you wish to find under the Christmas tree.”

As Troy settled on Santa's knee, Riggs strained against the leash, clearly wanting to be with Troy.

“Here's my elf assistant to take our picture,” Santa said, gesturing to another elf, dressed exactly like the one at the door. Only this one stood behind a tripod set up with a Polaroid camera.

“Can Riggs have his picture taken, too?” Troy asked.

Hearing his name, Riggs let out a bark.

Santa laughed, a deep belly laugh that made them all smile. “Of course.”

David situated Riggs next to Santa. The dog sat with his gaze on Troy. “Stay,” David said but wasn't sure he even needed to give the command.

As the elf took a picture, Sophie snapped off several shots of her own.

“So cute,” Louise said softly.

“Troy,” Santa said after the elf was done, “what do you want for Christmas?”

Troy leaned in and whispered something into Santa's ear. Santa nodded, his brown eyes widening as he darted a glance toward the adults. David's stomach clenched. What had Troy asked for?

“Well, I'll see what I can do, but that might be more than even Santa can accomplish,” the jolly man said.

Troy sighed and nodded. “I'm praying about it, too.”

David's mouth went dry. What if Troy asked for his mom and dad back?

Santa smiled. “Good idea.”

David let out a breath. The old man wouldn't have smiled if Troy had asked for something like that, would he? He met Sophie's gaze. He could tell she was thinking the same thing.

“Anything else?” Santa asked.

Troy considered then said, “Sodor Fire Station.”

Relief loosed the constriction in David's chest. He could do Sodor Fire Station.

“What's that?” Sophie whispered.

“Another piece to the Thomas the Train track set.” He grinned, remembering the night she'd gotten tangled up in the tracks.

“Ah.” She nodded with a smile. She held his gaze, and he momentarily
forgot where he was. David could lose himself in her eyes.

Troy hopped down from Santa's lap and launched himself at David. Scooping the boy into his arms, David said, “Tell Santa thank you.”

“Thank you, Santa,” Troy said.

“Come, Riggs,” Louise called to the dog, who had his paws up on Santa's knee.

Santa scrubbed Riggs behind the ear. “Good boy.”

Riggs hopped down and padded to Louise's side. Simon reattached the leash to Riggs's collar.

“This way, please,” the elf said, ushering them out of the little house in the woods so another family could come inside.

Once they were outside and headed back to the main gate, where they'd pick up their trees, David asked Troy, “What did you tell Santa?”

Troy shook his head. “I can't tell you. It's a secret.”

David wanted to press. He wanted to make sure that whatever Troy had asked for, he could provide. He hated the thought of Troy's hopes being dashed. But maybe there were some things David couldn't protect Troy from.

Or himself. David's gaze strayed to Sophie; she had her camera up and took his and Troy's picture. He had no idea how to protect himself from the feelings taking root in his heart for the beautiful photographer.

He was in big trouble.

W
e can see everything from here.” Troy pressed his nose to the restaurant's large plate-glass window. He looked so cute in his sweater and khaki pants.

Ferralla's, famous for its Italian cuisine, sat right on the main drag that ran through the heart of Bellevue. Sophie had never eaten here before and was impressed by the ambience. Classical versions of well-loved Christmas tunes played over the speakers. Candles graced every linen-covered table, and the overhead lights glowed a soft, warm yellow.

They were seated at a window table on the second floor and had a perfect view of the street below. The snowflake-shaped lights strung along the trees lining the sidewalks twinkled in the evening air. People stood on both sides of the street in preparation for the Snowflake parade. The mall, a brick building with
decorated arched windows, sat directly across the way, and it was busy with holiday shoppers.

She snapped off a few shots of Troy with his back to her. She swung the camera to David and took several pictures. He stuck his tongue out at her in most of them.

She rolled her eyes. “Stop, you goof.”

He sat next to her looking handsome in dark slacks and a white shirt and red tie beneath a gray houndstooth sport jacket. His dark brown hair was spiked, like he'd run his fingers through it rather than using a comb. His strong jaw was shaven and the scent of his aftershave had been teasing her since he and Troy had stopped at the house to pick her up for their dinner with Grandma and Simon.

They'd again traveled in two cars, which meant Grandma and Simon had plenty of alone time. But so did she and David. Granted, Troy had been in his car seat, but he was reading a picture book adaptation of the movie
Frozen
and was completely uninterested in them.

On the ride over, she'd wanted so badly to ask about Libby. Did David intend to take up with her again?

The woman had clearly been interested in rekindling her relationship with him. The thought of them together crimped Sophie's heart.

But what did it matter to her if David called the redhead?

Sophie had no claim on David. Not now, not ever. So she'd stuffed her curiosity and the burn of jealousy down a dark hole.

“This is such a treat,” Louise said, twirling her string of pearls. She'd worn a light blue dress and had her hair pulled up in a pearl-studded clip. She sat beside Simon, their plush chairs scooted close together.

Sophie took their picture, loving the way the camera captured their closeness, their ease with each other.

Waiters wearing black and white brought appetizers to the table and refilled their water glasses. Sophie tucked her camera back in its case so she could sample the food on the trays.

David shifted in his seat, his knee bumping hers, sending little tingles up her spine. She should move away, but the pleasant sensations were too good to let go of. “How did you get these seats on such short notice?” he asked Simon.

“I own half of the restaurant,” Simon confessed with a half smile. “One of my investments.”

As the two men discussed business stuff, Sophie relaxed, content to listen. She was impressed with Simon, not because he owned half the restaurant, but because he didn't flaunt his wealth. He came across as so down to earth. He was nothing like the affluent people who ran in her parents' circles. And she was also impressed with David for his prowess in keeping up in the conversation. Most of what they talked about—stocks and rates and such—went over her head.

She could break down a camera and put it back together. She could arrange lights and frames and create beautiful works of art. She could talk aperture, shutter speed, and IOS. But business? It was like listening to a language she didn't speak. That was why she had an agent, to deal with all that stuff.

Their dinner arrived, and it was as scrumptious as advertised. Sophie had ordered a melt-in-your-mouth lasagna. The rich meat and tomato sauce were delicious. She glanced up to see David's pleasure as he bit into his chicken Parmesan.

Their gazes locked. The corners of his mouth curved in a smile that made her pulse skip along her limbs. For a moment, it seemed that all else faded except the two of them. He picked up a slice of garlic bread from a wicker basket on the table and offered it to her. She took it, their fingers brushing together.

For some reason, that innocent touch sent off a maelstrom of sensation spiraling through her. Unaccountably, she wanted more. She wanted his fingers to slide along her arm, to tangle in her hair. She wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted the kiss she'd denied him.

“When does the parade start?” Troy asked with a mouthful of buttered noodles.

The moment shattered. Sophie dropped the bread onto her plate and sat back, her cheeks heating. Panicked by the yearnings coursing through her veins, she picked up her tea and forced her hands not to shake.

“No talking with food in your mouth,” David admonished in a low tone.

Troy grimaced and swallowed, then opened his mouth to prove there was no more food inside. “Now can I ask?”

Sophie hid a smile behind her mug of hot tea.

David chuckled. “Yes, you may.”

“How much longer until the parade starts? Can we watch it from down there?” Troy asked, pointing over his shoulder with his fork.

“We'll see,” David responded. “Let's finish our meal first.”

By the time dessert was served, a rich and creamy tiramisu, Sophie was stuffed.

Music rose from the street, signaling the beginning of the parade. Troy stood at the window. Sophie joined him. She needed to move after so much rich food. A marching band from the local high school kicked off the procession. Six kids wide and twenty deep, the band looked sharp in black pants, black coats, and yellow and white bibs. Tall, plumed hats sat perched on each teen's head. There were horns of every type and two rows of drums of various sizes. Sophie could feel the vibration of the music beating through her.

Troy took her hand. “Can we go down there?”

Her heart flipped in her chest. It felt so natural to have his small hand in her own. “We'll have to ask your uncle.”

“I say let's go down there,” David said as he stepped up behind them.

His breath stirred her hair. Awareness prickled her skin. He was so close, she could lean back into him with just the slightest shift in her stance. She held herself rigid, not wanting to give in to the warming of his presence, yet yearning to feel his arms around her again. She placed her free hand against the cool glass to ground herself. “I'd like that, too.”

“I'll get our coats.” David moved away to retrieve their outerwear from the coatroom.

Sophie tracked him with her gaze. He moved with such easy grace, with confidence and power. He was a man who commanded his world, who'd started a company and made it a success on his own. A man who'd taken in his orphaned nephew to raise. A man for her to admire, respect, and . . . she shied away from finishing that thought. She had a goal to focus on, and that goal didn't include a man and a child.

“We'll stay here where it's nice and cozy,” Grandma said, drawing Sophie's focus.

Simon's arm rested across the back of Grandma's chair, where they sat with a good view of the happenings on the street below. They looked good together. Happy. Sophie was glad for that. “It is nice here. Thank you, Simon, for dinner. This was lovely.”