A Baby In His Stocking. Hayley Gardner
a father would be a disaster. She was waiting for him to continue, so he drew a breath. “But I’m not leaving until I see your father.”
“Then please wait in Dad’s office for him. I’ll send him up there as soon as I can.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Of course. The way things have been going around here, the only direction left for anyone is up.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Jared said in total agreement. Finally turning, he left her alone, and she dove into the crowd.
Her father, by inviting Jared here, had created yet another problem for her, Shea thought, trying to get irritated with Mack so she wouldn’t break down and cry about Jared. After she worked on their current Santa to persuade him to stay on, she’d get after her father to see what was going through his mind in reference to her soon-to-be-divorced husband. And she was not looking forward to it. Her dad was almost as big a handful as Jared. No, bigger. Her dad would not retreat into silence.
As Shea threaded through the kids and their moms to reach her dad and Mr. Whitney—Santa—she smiled her best public-relations smile and glanced around. All she saw were the familiar faces of her neighbors, friends and regular customers who sat nearby in the snack section watching the “fun.” Surely none of them could be playing these little practical jokes on their Santas?
The mischief had started when someone had sprinkled itching powder throughout the first Santa’s suit, causing an allergic reaction that had forced the poor man into retirement. With their second recruit, it had been fake snakes and a real mouse inside the Santa sack that was supposed to hold holiday giveaways. That St. Nick had run back to the North Pole with his reindeer—at least so she assumed, because he never returned to the store. And now, with Mr. Whitney, she could only imagine the worst had happened.
Upon seeing her, her father ran his hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair in what looked like a gesture of relief, then grinned at the man in the red velvet suit who was standing at the bottom of the Santa Station’s off-ramp. “Now, Santa, here’s Shea. She’ll explain why you can’t quit.”
She frowned at Mack. “You look far too happy to see me. Don’t be.”
To her irritation, her dad seemed to grasp she was referring to Jared and grinned even wider, as though he was quite pleased with himself. With a glance at the crowd, he said jovially, “So my Christmas present made it to your doorstep, did it?”
“I’m returning it.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t.”
“I want to see Santa!” one of the boys yelled suddenly from the line. He was immediately shushed by his mother but she was too late. A clamor went up from more restless kids.
“I’ll deal with you later,” Shea promised her father, pushing wayward wisps of black hair behind her ear. “Go talk to Jared. He’s waiting in your office.” Looking thankful for the opportunity to escape, her father turned away. Before he could scoot entirely out of sight, she caught his arm and added, “Get rid of him, Dad.”
One more devilish grin, and her father was gone, leaving every muscle in her body tight with tension. With that look, Mack would probably be inviting Jared for Christmas dinner, and she would be the turkey.
At least Mack wasn’t stressed. If he was stressed, then she would have to worry.
Santa started sneezing again. Shifting her stiff shoulders, Shea began damage control and tried not to think about Jared and their pending divorce or how she really should tell him about their baby—or what, exactly, her father had in store for them. Whatever it was, Mack wouldn’t have a chance to carry his plan through because Jared was one Christmas present she was never unwrapping.
Chapter Two
In the end, nothing—not talking, not cajoling, not out and out bribing—could convince Santa to stay. Dog tired, upset for the disappointed kids who had to leave without seeing Santa and unwilling to face Jared again, Shea decided to postpone the confrontation she’d planned with her father and head home to put up her feet for a while.
Definitely not wanting to think about Jared’s being in the same town with her, as she drove the short distance home, Shea tried to focus on how she was going to find a new Santa. Mack had volunteered for the job, but as his daughter and the store’s manager, she’d already vetoed that idea. Dealing with children all day would undoubtedly wear Mack out.
Instead, she’d given her father the job of finding another Santa, which had proven difficult the first time, what with the word out about the practical joker. Really, she had no idea what they could do now for a Santa.
Sighing, she turned into the backyard driveway, got out and opened the garage door. Her heart sped up as she spotted Mack’s truck in the second slot in the garage. He’d come home, too. If he’d brought Jared...
He hadn’t. She found Mack all alone at the desk in his study, paying the bills under the glow of a lamp that had been a present from her mom a long time ago. The lampshade was yellowing, but it still had the gaily swinging fringe at the bottom, and her father refused to get rid of it. Shea had longed for a marriage like that, where the caring and the good memories never stopped. She’d almost had it—until she’d wanted more than Jared could give. Give emotionally anyway, she corrected inwardly. He had given her the baby.
“I hope your playmate has gone home,” she said, setting her purse on a side table.
“You’re sounding more like your mother every day,” Mack said, grinning up at her.
“That’s good, right?” Leaning over, she kissed him on the forehead, then lowered herself into her father’s black leather easy chair. “But compliments and evading the subject will get you nowhere.”
“Oh, we can get to Jared in a minute.” Waving his hand in dismissal, Mack swiveled in his chair to face her. “First, the most important thing—how did it turn out with old Santa?”
She sighed deeply, which said it all.
“You think it was the Grinch again, too, huh?” Mack asked.
Nodding, she kicked off her loafers and buried her stockinged toes in the golden rug. “It had to be. We found a container of some of that gag-gift sneezing powder we sell, and the nearest I can figure out, it was sprinkled on Mr. Whitney’s Santa beard. As soon as he stopped sneezing, he said it was obvious someone had a warped sense of humor at Denton’s, and he wasn’t spending another minute waiting around for the next joke, ’cause they weren’t funny.”
The corners of Mack’s mouth curled slightly upward. “I always said that old geezer didn’t have a sense of humor.”
“Dad!” she scolded, but she was smiling, too. “Just remember, I don’t want you to get stressed out over this.” With faked optimism, she added, “We’ll find another Santa, and we’ll get that Grinch.”
“Dam tootin’.” Her father’s grin seemed awfully smug and self-assured to Shea. “I’ve got it all under control.”
“You do?” Her eyes narrowed as he rolled his chair back to his desk, picked up his pen and resumed writing in his check ledger. “How is that possible—for you to have found a solution already?”
Her father turned just enough to grin at her again. The twinkling in his eyes seemed magical, with an extra sparkle that came from goodness only knew where. She hadn’t seen him looking this happy in weeks. But instead of being comforted, the twinkle, along with his almost Cheshire-cat look, made her feel wary.
And then she knew. She actually knew. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. Her mouth fell open. “You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.”
“Of course I would.” Mack returned to his checkbook. “I’m sure Jared will help us find the Grinch.”
Nerves