Miss Kane's Christmas (5 page)

Love,

Daddy

“What’s wrong with Miss Kane?” Patrick’s voice sounded as if it were coming through a snow storm.

“Maybe it’s sugar shock,” Hillary sounded worried.

Carol shook her head. “I’m fine. I was just daydreaming. Now what were we talking about?”

“Patrick asked if you did all of the decorating by yourself?” Hillary repeated patiently.

“Of course, I did,” Carol said. “Who else would have helped me?”

Hillary shrugged. “We thought maybe Daddy woke up and came downstairs to help you.”

“No, your father was asleep all evening.” Carol had checked several times but he hadn’t so much as rolled over, fortunately for her. The children had slept the night through as well. Maybe sleeping soundly was a Hanson family trait.

It was a shame that Ben wasn’t as friendly, open minded, or fun as his children had turned out to be. She knew she should go upstairs to check on him and see if he needed any help but the look on his face last night when he’d ordered her out of his room hadn’t suggested that he was in a particular hurry to see her again.

“Do you think Daddy is terribly angry still?” Hillary asked.

Carol shook her head. “Of, course not. I don’t think he was angry at all. I think his arm just hurt and he was grumpy.”

Both children nodded, satisfied with her answer.

“What are we going to do today?” Patrick asked.

Carol couldn’t help but return their bright smiles. She’d never spent much time with children but she could see now that she’d missed out on some serious fun.

“First I suggest we get our coats and boots on and head outside to make a proper snowman. Then we need to plan how and where to put all the lights we bought yesterday. Are you two any good at climbing trees?”

“We’re like monkeys,” Patrick assured her.

“Wonderful, as long you’re talking about the kind of monkeys that can string lights.” She grinned when they giggled. Her father was right, the holiday really was all about children. Or should be. A sudden understanding of what her father wanted her to do dawned on her. Beyond Bah Humbug her left foot. Ben Hanson, however handsome and charming she knew he could be, however sensitive and intelligent he was, had no right to ruin Christmas for an untold number of children with a book full of outright lies.

Santa did exist. Of course, she couldn’t use her lineage as proof but she’d figure something out.

“After we’ve got the lights up we can deliver some baked goods to your neighbors.”

“Why?” Hillary asked. Patrick looked just as curious as his sister.

“Because it’s Christmas time, because it’s the neighborly thing to do. And,” Carol paused, trying to decide just how much to tell the children about her plans. Oh, for the love of fir trees, if she couldn’t trust two innocent children, she couldn’t trust anyone. “I was thinking we could invite the neighbors over for a…gathering.”

“A gathering?” Patrick asked.

“A party,” Hillary told him before looking at Carol with wonder in her eyes. “You mean a Christmas party here at the house? With the neighbors?”

“Well, yes, of course we can invite the neighbors but we don’t have to stop there. What about your father’s work friends? We can invite everyone from his office too.”

“But we don’t know their names,” Patrick objected.

“Does your father have an address book?”

“Couldn’t we use his contact list from his tablet?”

“Tablet, of course,” Carol hadn’t thought of that. She’d wrapped plenty of them but didn’t quite know how they worked. “Do you think you could figure out how to get the names?”

Hillary managed to stop just short of scoffing at her. “Yeah, I’m eight. Of course I can.”

Carol nodded. “Good. Now I’m going to need lots of help to make this the best party ever. Are you sure you like the idea?”

Their ensuing squeals of delight assured her they did. She lifted a hand to request permission to speak. Once granted she asked them the question that had been weighing on her mind, choosing her words extra carefully. “The whole point of throwing this party is to help your father get into the holiday spirit. So, do you think he might enjoy the party a bit more if we included him in the planning or if it were a total surprise?”

Neither child needed much time to think.

“Let’s surprise him,” Hillary said, her eyes wide.

“Definitely,” Patrick agreed, nodding solemnly.

Exactly the answer Carol wanted to hear.

* * *

Ben stood at the top of the staircase and surveyed the damage to his home. As best he could tell a yule bomb had exploded while he’d been asleep. And he knew just who had detonated it.

“Miss Kane,” he called out as he made his way down the stairs. His shoulder ached but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his head.

He found her in the foyer, she was busy bundling the children into their coats.

She turned to smile at him. “Good morning. I trust you slept well?” Without waiting for an answer she turned back to Hillary and helped her fasten her tutu over her snow pants.

He opened his mouth to point out the ridiculousness of wearing a tutu outdoors but stopped himself. He watched the children pull their mittens on. Their eyes were shining. Shining. He couldn’t remember ever seeing them look so happy.

“Do you want to come outside with us, Daddy?” Hillary asked.

“After I have some coffee, honey, I will.”

“Don’t forget to eat your breakfast,” Patrick piped up. “We had some delicious-”

But just what his son had for breakfast was to remain a mystery because Hillary’s right hand clamped firmly over her brother’s mouth. Ben had an idea that they’d sweet talked Carol into substituting the bran cereal he preferred they eat with frosted flakes or something equally unhealthy.

Carol stood. “We’ll just be outside if you need anything.” She opened the front door. “There’s a pot of tea on the stove and fresh coffee in the coffee maker. I wasn’t sure which you preferred.”

“Wait just a moment, Miss Kane. I need to speak with you.”

“And I need to supervise the children outside.” She shrugged. “But I’m sure we can fit in a talk sometime today.”

Nice try. “No. Now is better.” He turned to his children. “You two may play right in the front area outside the kitchen window. Miss Kane and I will both have an eye on you and we’ll be out shortly.”

They hastily agreed to his terms and scrambled out the door, doubtless wanting to get out before he changed his mind.

He nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “May I have a word?”

“Certainly, Mr. Hanson. I can see you have something on your mind.”

He watched as Carol took down a mug from the cupboard. It amazed him how comfortable she appeared to be in his home and with his children. Was she like this everywhere she went?

“Coffee or tea?” she asked him.

“Coffee,” he said, and then settled himself at the kitchen table. His shoulder ached but he’d had a surprisingly good night’s sleep. Which wasn’t such a good thing as it turned out. If he’d been tossing and turning last night maybe he’d have heard Carol creating havoc and could have put a stop to her decorating. At least it would have saved her the trouble of packing it all up today.

“What did you do to my house last night?” He was forced to add a begrudging ‘thank you’ as she slid a mug of coffee in front of him.

“The children love the decorations,” Carol said.

He followed her gaze as she watched the children through the window. Hillary and Patrick had abandoned their snowman to start a good natured snowball fight.

“They are precious children.”

“Thank you,” Ben was forced to say again. As upset about the mess in the other room as he was, he couldn’t be churlish enough to ignore her compliment. They were wonderful children. All the more reason to protect them from this holiday nonsense before it led to disappointment on a massive scale.

He picked up his coffee mug but froze when it was two inches from his lips. He’d never seen this mug before in his life. It was white and he moved it back so he could read what the red letters spelled out.

Be nice! Or you’ll end up on Santa’s naughty list.

He slammed the mug down, not caring that coffee sloshed onto the table. “Miss Kane, this has gone too far. Where are my coffee mugs?”

“On the top shelf of the pantry until after Christmas,” she answered, apparently not at all rattled by his frustration. “I have others if you’d prefer.” She rose and reached for his mug. “Let me get you a top-off. I have a Rudolph mug or you can have-”

“Sit down,” he insisted. “Just what is the matter with you?”

She didn’t sit. She stood, hands on her hips, the first crack in her calm composure beginning to show. “I could well ask you the same thing.”

He stood and stared down at her. Her blue eyes snapped and a faint redness stained her cheeks. He pushed away the thought that she looked downright charming when she was angry. And she was angry. He could see it.

“This Christmas nonsense has to stop. Now.”

“It isn’t nonsense.” She lifted her chin, defiance replacing her anger. “You’re trying so hard to ruin our Christmas and I can’t figure out why. It’s you who should cease and desist with the scrooge routine.”

Our Christmas? His head started to spin. Had she even been here a full twenty-four hours? Suddenly it was ‘our’ Christmas? That was going too far.

“I won’t have my children subjected to lie after lie about someone who doesn’t exist.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Santa Claus does exist. You are the one spreading venomous lies with that book you’re writing.”

He froze. How did she know about his book?

“How did you-” but the rest of his question was cut off by the sound of the front door slamming open.

“Daddy, Miss Kane, come quickly,” Hillary shouted. “It’s Patrick. He needs help.”

With Carol only a step behind him, Ben followed his daughter out the front door and down the front steps. Hillary pointed up to the roof where a frightened looking Patrick stood, a string of lights in hand.

“What happened,” Ben asked Hillary. “Is he hurt?”

“He’s stuck.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “He’s scared. He can’t get down.”

“You’re alright, son,” Ben called up, hoping his voice would reassure his son. “I’ll have you down in a jiffy.” Just how he had no idea. He’d donated his tall ladder and had meant to replace it, but hadn’t gotten around to it. He swore under his breath.

“How did Patrick get up there?” Carol asked.

“He pretended he was a monkey, just like you said.”

Ben shot an accusing look in Carol’s direction but she didn’t look at him. She looked up at Patrick.

“Patrick,” she called out, “what are you doing up there?”

The little boy gulped. “I wanted to lay some lights on the roof for Santa. He needs a landing strip so he can land his sleigh.”

“Damn.” Ben clenched his good hand into a fist. “Do you see what you’ve done, Miss Kane?” he demanded. “All of this Santa nonsense is confusing the children.”

He watched as Carol slowly turned to look at him. “It would seem that if you are comfortable enough to insult me and accuse me of bogus charges, then you should be comfortable enough to call me Carol.” She turned away from him before he could respond.

“Patrick,” she called, “I think that is a wonderful idea. I’m coming up to help you finish it and then we’ll come down together, okay?”

The little boy nodded. “Can you hurry, Miss Kane? I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be right there, sweetie. Just hold on.” She turned to Ben. “Talk to him until I get up there. Do your best to reassure him.”

Before he could ask just how she planned to get up on the roof, Carol ran into the house. He and Hillary had barely begun to reassure Patrick before he saw Carol come around the other side of the chimney. He blinked in surprise.

He watched as Carol knelt down to hug Patrick. She must have said something to him that he couldn’t hear because Ben saw his son nod in agreement.

“Look, Daddy,” Hillary beamed. “Isn’t Miss Kane clever? She’s going to help Patrick make a landing spot for Santa.” She grinned at her father. “Isn’t she something special?”

“Oh, yes, she’s something all right.” How on earth had she gotten up there? As annoyed as he still was with her, Ben had to give her credit for saving the moment. She’d allowed Patrick to salvage his pride by finishing what he’d gone up on the roof to do. To a little boy, being able to save face was no small thing.

“We’re done,” Carol called down. She pulled a small camera from her pocket and snapped a photo of a now proud looking Patrick standing in front of his design. She then returned to the edge. “Hillary, please stand under the tree and talk to Patrick as he comes down. He’s going to demonstrate that at heart, he truly is a monkey.”

Ben watched with pride as Patrick stepped forward, took a deep breath and reached out for the branch. He joined Hillary in distracting Patrick as he slowly made his way down. As soon as his son’s feet touched the ground Ben pulled his son close and hugged him.

“We have to help Miss Kane get down now,” Hillary reminded them.

Ben glanced up. Carol wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Where did she go?”

Patrick shrugged. “Around the back of the chimney, the same way she came up.”

They all three turned when they heard the front door close. Carol, now wearing her red wool coat and matching beret, locked the front door and came to stand beside them. Ben saw that she had his down jacket over her arm.

She handed it to him. “Are we ready?”

Ben was almost afraid to ask. “For what?”

“We’re going to the mall.”

Obviously not the least bit traumatized by the roof escapade, Hillary and Patrick let out a shout of joy and ran toward the SUV. Ben didn’t budge.

“Why on earth would you want to go to the mall?” he demanded.

“To show you just how wrong you are.” She lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Santa is real and I can prove it."

He stared at her. The woman was insane, or at least teetering on the edge of insanity.

Or perhaps he was the one who was insane for allowing her to live in the same house with his children. Except that she was wonderful with them. He’d never seen his son or daughter look so happy. So carefree. So much like normal children. Carol Kane would make the perfect nanny. She was, he suddenly realized, exactly what they needed in their lives.