Kisses on Her Christmas List (18 page)

Dressed as Santa himself, carrying a sack of gifts,
Dave Raleigh strode toward Santa's throne, gesturing broadly.
“I'd like to thank my helper here for taking my place for a while this morning, but I'm here now.”
He dropped the sack just as her mom strode over.

Dressed in a festive red pantsuit, with her hair perfectly coiffed, Stacy Raleigh said, “Silly old coot.
I tried to talk him out of this but you know how he loves Christmas.”

Just then Finley scampered over.
Her mom smiled.
“And who is this?”

“Mom—” she gestured to Rory “—this is Rory Wallace.”

Her mom extended her hand to shake his.
“Ah, the gentleman who came to see the store.”

“Yes.”
She motioned to Finley.
“And this is his daughter, Finley.”

Stacy stooped down.
“Well, aren't you adorable?”

Finley said, “Yes, ma'am.”

And Shannon laughed.
But she also saw her way out of this painful and embarrassing situation.
She caught Rory's arm and turned him in the direction of the stairway off the Santa-throne platform.
“Thank you for a wonderful visit.
We'll look forward to hearing from you after the holidays.”

She stooped and kissed Finley's cheek.
Unable to stop herself she wrapped Finley in a big hug and whispered, “I love you,” in her ear.

Finley squeezed back and whispered, “I love you, too.”

Then she rose and relinquished Finley into her dad's custody.
She watched them walk down the stairs, then raced to the half wall of the mezzanine and watched as they squeezed through the first-floor sales floor,
watched as they walked through the door and out into the falling snow.

Her mom caught her forearm.
“Shannon?”

The tears welling in her eyes spilled over.
“I want to go home.”

S
HANNON'S MOTHER
deposited her in the living room, left and returned with a cup of tea.
“Drink this.”

Her tears now dried up, she took the tiny china cup and saucer from her mother's hands.
“Did you remember sugar?”

Her mom smiled.
“Yes.”

She took a sip, closed her eyes and sighed.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”

Her automatic response was to say, “I'm fine.”
But remembering the wonderful sense of release she had being around Rory after having confessed the truth, she wouldn't let herself lie, not even to protect her mom.

She cleared her throat.
“I…um…told Rory that I couldn't have kids.”

Her mom's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”

“Because he was starting to like me and I felt he needed to know the truth.”

Her mom's face fell in horror.
“You scared him off?”

Oh, Lord.
She's never thought of it that way.
“I didn't want him to get involved in something that wouldn't work for him.”

Stacy drew Shannon into her arms and hugged her.
“You always were incredibly fair.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, grateful that her mom
understood and even more grateful that the feeling that she'd done the wrong thing had disappeared.
“He's a good man who wants more kids.”

“And you can always adopt—”

She pulled out of her mom's embrace, caught her gaze.
“I am going to adopt.”

“On your own?”

“Yes.”

She hugged her again.
“And you always were brave, too.”
She squeezed her tighter.
“I'm glad.”

Shannon returned her mother's hug, closed her eyes and contented herself with the fact that being around Finley had given her enough confidence that she could go on with the rest of her life.
So what if it was without Rory?
So what if she didn't have someone she felt connected to?
Someone who made her feel special?
Someone who loved her unconditionally?

Her heart broke a bit.
Though Rory and Finley had helped her to make the decision to adopt, she couldn't begin looking immediately.
She didn't want to associate getting a child to losing Rory and Finley.
She wanted her child to come into her life when she was totally over the loss.

And she didn't think she would be for a while.

 

Two hours later, Rory was battling traffic on I-95, wondering why so many people needed to be out on Christmas Eve.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when people should be at home with their families.

“So, then, I kinda peeked at Santa's ear and I think I saw something holding his beard on.”

Rory absently said, “You might have.”

“Because it was fake?”

He glanced at her.
Now that she was “into” Christmas
a whole new set of problems had arisen.
Her beliefs were so precarious and so fragile that he didn't want to spoil the magic.
But she was a smart kid, a six-year-old, somebody who probably would have been realizing by now that Santa wasn't real.

He had no idea what to say and reached for his cell phone to call Shannon.
She would know.

His hand stopped.
His chest tightened.
He couldn't call her.
He'd hurt her.
Walking out of Raleigh's he'd convinced himself that leaving was sad, but justified, because he wasn't sure he loved her and didn't want to hurt her.
But that was a rationalization.
He had already hurt her.
In a few short days, they'd fallen into some romantic place where it didn't matter if they wanted to like each other.
It didn't matter if they spent every waking minute together or thirty seconds a day—they still wanted more.
They'd clicked, connected.

But he was afraid.

Who was he kidding?
He was terrified.

“So was his beard fake?”

He glanced at Finley, all bright eyes and childlike smiles.
“Well, you saw the real Santa come in and take over.
So the guy whose lap you sat on was like his helper.”
A thought came to him and he ran with it.
“There's a Santa in every shopping mall around the world for the six weeks before Christmas.
The real one can't be in all those places.
So he trains lots of helpers.”

“Oh.”
She frowned, considering that.

A few miles went by with Rory maneuvering in and out of the traffic.
He spent the time alternating between wondering if he'd told Finley the right thing and forcing his mind away from the sure knowledge that Shannon would have known exactly what to say.
Then a worse
thing happened.
Suddenly, he began wishing he could call her tonight and tell her about this conversation.

“So if there are lots of Santas, that explains how he gets everywhere on Christmas Eve to deliver presents.”

“Exactly.”

“So that means not everybody gets a real Santa.
Most of us get a fake!”

Panicked, Rory glanced at her.
“No.
No.
He's a special magic guy who can go around the world all in one night.
Because he's special.”
He floundered, grasping for words.
“Magic.
It all has to do with magic.”

“But you told me magic is just some guy who knows how to do things really fast or by getting you to look away from what he's really doing.”

Caught in the web of an explanation he'd given Finley after they'd seen a young man doing magic tricks on the beach a few months before, he wanted to bounce his head off the steering wheel.
This is what he got for having a super-intelligent child.
“That is true with most magic.
But this is Christmas magic.”

“What's the difference?”

He peered over at Finley again.
Shannon would have handled this so easily.
She would have told Finley the truth.
And maybe that was what he needed to do.
Tell her the truth.
Not the big truth that Santa wasn't real.
But the other truth.
The truth most parents hated admitting.

“I don't know.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm a guy who buys stores and fixes them up so that they make lots of money.
I'm not the guy in charge of Santa.
So I'm not in on those secrets.”

She nodded sagely, leaned back in her car seat.
“I miss Shannon.”

He struggled with the urge to close his eyes.
Not in frustration this time, but because he missed Shannon, too.
He swallowed.
“So do I.”

“She was pretty.”

Gorgeous.
He couldn't count the times he'd longed to run his fingers through her thick, springy black curls.
He couldn't count the times he'd noticed that her eyes changed shades of blue depending upon what she wore.
He couldn't count the time he'd itched to touch her, yearned to kiss her, thought about making love to her.

“She was smart, too.”

He'd definitely have to agree with that.
Not only was there a noticeable difference in Raleigh's income from when her dad ran the store and when she'd taken over, but she also ran that store like a tight ship.
And she always knew what to say to him, how to handle Finley.

She'd thought of sled riding and baking a cake on days when he probably would have been stumped for entertainment for himself, let alone himself and a six-year-old.

A pain surrounded his heart like the glow of a firefly.
He could still see her laughing as she slid down the hill on her saucer sled, hear her screams of terror that turned into squeals of delight when he forced her down the big hill on the runner sled.

His throat thickened.
He could also remember the sorrow in her voice when she told him she couldn't have kids.
She believed herself unlovable—

It hurt to even think that, because she was the easiest person to love he'd ever met.

He drove another mile or two before the truth of that
really hit him.
Not that she was easy to love, but that he knew that.
How could he know she was easy to love, if he didn't love her?

 

Shannon's dad arrived home around five.
The store stayed open until nine for late shoppers, but Santa's throne was deserted at five with a note that told children that he was on his way to the North Pole to begin delivering gifts.

In the kitchen, where Shannon and her mom were making Christmas Eve supper, he shrugged out of his coat.
He'd already removed his fake beard and white wig, but his salt-and-pepper hair had been flattened against his head.
He still wore the Santa suit but the top two buttons of the jacket were undone.
“So what did Wallace have to say?
Is he going to buy the store?”

Shannon watched her mom shoot her dad one of those warning looks only a wife can give a husband and she laughed.
“It's okay, Mom.
We can talk about it.”

Her dad headed for the table.
“Talk about what?”

“About Rory Wallace breaking our daughter's heart.”

His eyes widened, his forehead creased.
“What?”

Shannon batted a hand.
She didn't mind talking to her mom, but her dad had a tendency to make mountains out of mole hills.
“I'm fine.
We just sort of began to get close while he was here and I might have taken a few things he said to heart that he didn't mean.”

“Scoundrel!”

“No, Dad.
It was me.
We were attracted, but he sort of laid everything out on the table early on in the week.
He had a wife who left him, who doesn't want anything to do with their daughter.”

He fell to one of the chairs at the table.
“Oh.”

“Then he mentioned a time or two that he loved being a dad and wanted more kids.”

He glanced up sharply, held her gaze.
“You're not out of that game.
You can always adopt.”

Though she and her father had never come right out and talked about this, she wasn't surprised that he'd thought it through, that he'd already come to this conclusion.
She smiled shakily.
“I know.”

“So what's the deal?
Why can't we talk about him?”

“Because in spite of the fact that I knew we weren't a good match I sort of let myself fall.”
She sucked in a breath.
“But I'm okay now.
And I can tell you that he's definitely interested in the store.
He has to talk to his family first.”

“Maybe I don't want to sell it to him.”

For the first time in hours, she laughed.
“Don't cut off your nose to spite your face.
The Wallaces own a big company, with lots of capital.
I'm sure they'll make you a very fair offer.”

“Everything in life isn't about money.”

She laughed again, glowing with the fact that her dad loved her enough not to take a deal.
Even though that was idiotic and she planned to talk him out of it, she said, “That's the first time you've ever said that.”

“Well, it's true.”
He scooted his chair closer to the table.
“Are we going to eat tonight or what?”

His mom brought him a drink.
“It's only a little after five.
I invited Mary to dinner at seven.
Have a drink, go get a shower, and before you know it Mary will be here.”

A sudden knock at the door had her mom turning around.
“Maybe she's early?”

“Maybe,” Shannon said, heading out of the kitchen.
“But, seriously, Dad, supper's not ready until seven.
So you might as well get a shower.”

With that she pushed through the swinging door and walked up the hall.
She opened the door with a jolly “Merry Christmas,” only to have Finley propel herself at her knees.