That Maddening Man. Debrah Morris
thing to happen in Washington for years. The thought of getting to know her better filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a kid waiting for Christmas himself.
“So, how’s Ida Faye doing?” Ellin’s feisty old grandmother was one of his favorite people. He’d visited her several times since her discharge from the hospital and knew she wasn’t happy being “incarcerated” in the nursing home. His Aunt Lorella made sure she received the best of care.
“You know my grandmother?” Ellin’s puzzled look was replaced by a smug knowing one. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. Santa knows—”
“Everything!” Jack and Lizzie called out in unison.
“Right.” Ellin flipped on the turn signal and pulled into the nursing home drive.
“I warned her not to shovel snow at her age.” Jack hoped he would be as spry as Mrs. Boswell in his eightieth winter. “But you know Ida. Always helping everyone.”
Ellin parked near the door and switched off the engine. “Well, this time she helped herself to a broken hip and a doctor-ordered stay at Shady Acres.”
She dropped the car keys in her coat pocket, opened the back door, unsnapped the child restraint and lifted the little girl out. Pudgy bounced around their feet.
Jack hoisted the big sack of presents over his shoulder in true Santa style. He looked down when he felt a small mittened hand clutch his fingers. Lizzie held on tightly, her mouth curved in an impish grin, the phony crown askew atop her long blond curls. Those blue eyes could melt the frostiest snowman’s heart.
Jack squeezed her hand. Reaching into his pack, he produced a large brass schoolhouse bell and knelt to her level. “Can you help me, Lizzie?”
“You need my help?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, I do. Can you ring this special bell to let everyone know Santa Claus is coming?”
Her face lit up at the prospect. “I sure can.”
Holding the bell reverently in one small hand, she clutched his fingers with the other. Jack suspected this would be a day little Lizzie Bennett would remember forever.
Maybe he would, too.
Together, they walked up the sidewalk to Shady Acres Care Center. Ellin held the door open by leaning against it, her arms folded across her chest.
He winked at her as he passed, enjoying her startled response. But she played it cool. Clearly not a woman who backed down from a challenge, she didn’t blush or glance away or look flustered. He liked the idea that she would give as good as she got. Staring boldly back at him, she wore the bemused expression of a smart, savvy woman who has been there, done everything, but had finally encountered something she simply could not understand.
Jack Madden had never been so intrigued.
Chapter Two
Ellin and Lizzie entered the winter-bright dayroom ahead of Santa, whose arrival was heralded by the little girl’s enthusiastic bell-ringing. A fragrant Douglas fir in the corner was as laden with ornaments, tinsel and lights as the red-draped refreshment table was with treats. Elderly residents wearing holly corsages and expectant expressions sat in easy chairs and wheelchairs arranged in a circle around the perimeter.
Ellin smiled and waved when she spotted her grandmother. Ida Faye sat in a wheelchair on the far side of the room, her knobby, arthritic hands clutched in her lap. She had a red scarf around her neck and a colorful afghan over her legs. Her thin white hair was carefully parted, held in place by plastic barrettes like Lizzie’s.
Ellin was struck anew by how small and frail she’d become since the accident. Celebrating her eightieth Christmas this year, she wouldn’t have many more. Due to her parents’ divorce, Ellin hadn’t spent much time with her paternal grandmother over the years and hoped it wasn’t too late to make up for lost time. It was important for Lizzie to know her great-grandmother, to feel connected to her family. But it might never have happened if circumstances had been different.
Ellin worried that by leaving Chicago she’d taken the coward’s way out. That coming to this remote little town meant she was running away from her problems instead of solving them. But then she saw how Ida Faye’s face lit up when they walked in, and she knew there were things more important than her career. What had seemed like a fall from grace now seemed more like a blessing in disguise. Only a fool would turn down a sudden, if undeserved, gift of fate.
She and Lizzie lavished Ida Faye with big hugs and damp kisses. Then Ellin deposited Pudgy in his mistress’s lap. He stood on his hind legs to lick her pale, wrinkled cheek.
“I’m so glad ya’ll could come. And thank you for bringing this old rascal to see me. I’ve missed him so.”
“He’s missed you, too.” Ellin helped Lizzie out of her coat and mittens, noting the smiles her outfit generated.
When it came to fashion statements, her only child believed individuality was the way to go. Today she’d insisted on wearing her pink ballet slippers and a puffy-sleeved, full-length princess dress constructed of frilled layers of pink and purple chiffon. According to Lizzie, it wasn’t just a Halloween costume. It was appropriate party attire.
“Okay now, that’s enough, Pudge.” Ida Faye settled the dog down for a petting session. Then she gave Ellin a wide, denture-baring grin. She whispered behind her hand so Lizzie wouldn’t hear. “Ain’t that Jack a honey?”
“Who?” Someone brought a chair and Ellin scooted it close. Lizzie settled on the floor at her feet, Santa’s bell in her lap.
“Jack Madden,” Ida Faye said. “The young fella playin’ Santy Claus. You oughta know him, you came in with him.”
“Oh, so that’s his name.” It sounded familiar. Where had she heard it before? Ah, yes. The owner of the newspaper had mentioned him. “He works for the paper, right?”
Ida Faye nodded. “Yep. But that’s just a sideline. His main profession is schoolteaching. He’s good as gold, our Jack is.”
“Hmm.” Ellin settled back and watched the ersatz Santa work the room while an old lady in a bright red dress pounded “Here Comes Santa Claus” from an out-of-tune piano.
He belted out several rounds of hearty ho, ho, hos, clasping his king-size belly until it shook like the proverbial bowl full of jelly. Then he swung his heavy sack to the floor and strode around the dayroom, greeting the old folks by name and inquiring if they’d been good boys and girls. He shook their blue-veined hands, kissed their blushing cheeks and wiped their sentimental tears.
Then he passed out the gifts Ida Faye said he’d inspired his high school students to collect and wrap. Volunteers and family members helped the elderly residents open them to find the warm socks, slippers, stuffed animals, colorful posters, and bottles of lotion and aftershave inside. Then they passed out sweets and diabetic treats along with cups of holiday punch.
Lizzie tugged on Ellin’s slacks. “What is it, honey?”
Her little face scrunched up. “I didn’t get a present.”
“That’s okay. We’re just guests at this party.”
“But Santa said.”
“I know, but—”
“Hey, princess. Did you think I’d forgotten about you?” Santa Claus, alias Jack Madden, handed Lizzie a small bundle wrapped in red tissue paper.
“Oh, no,” she denied. “I knew you would never forget me. I’m your helper, right?”
“You sure are. Aren’t you going to open your present?”
She eagerly ripped off the paper to find a floppy dog with droopy ears and large button eyes. “Oh, my very own puppy,” she squealed.
“Do