That Maddening Man. Debrah Morris
four packing boxes.
“I’m glad to hear that. See that nice lady over there?” Jack pointed discreetly to a sad-looking old woman perched alone on a vinyl-coated sofa.
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t she look like she needs to see your doggie? I bet it would make her smile if you went over there and showed it to her.”
“Okay.” Eager to do Santa’s bidding, Lizzie scampered off. Sure enough, the woman’s expression was transformed from sadness to delight at the sight of the little girl in the froufrou dress and tiara. Lizzie smiled shyly as a trembling hand reached out to caress her golden curls.
“That was quite a performance, Mr. Madden,” Ellin said with a grudging smile. “You make an entirely credible Santa Claus.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bennett.” A well-brought-up Southern gentleman, he turned solicitously to his elder. “You’re looking lovely today, Mrs. Boswell. And how are you feeling?”
“As right as an eighty-year-old cripple with a pin in her hip can feel, I reckon. Jack, I want you to tell that aunt of yours to make them nurses let me stay up and watch Jeopardy. They put a body to bed way too early around here.”
He patted her hand. “I’ll talk to Aunt Lorella and see what I can do.”
Ellin looked at him sharply. Aunt Lorella? No wonder he’d known the administrator’s life story. “So Mrs. Polk is related to you, is she, Mr. Madden?”
His eyes glinted with what would have been called mischief in a ten-year-old. “My mother’s sister. But please, call me Jack. After all, we’re going to be working together.”
“So I hear. What is it exactly you do at the paper?” Ellin had not survived in a difficult profession by being indecisive. She trusted her instincts, made snap judgments and found her first impressions were usually right on target.
But this time she was baffled. She couldn’t quite put the Jack Madden puzzle together.
He shrugged. “Whatever needs doing. Jig calls me the sports editor, but the title’s just an excuse to attend all the high school football and basketball games in the area.”
“I understand you’re a teacher.”
“Yes, ma’am. High school English.”
“I want to thank you for being so nice to Lizzie today. The move was hard on her. Meeting you, I mean Santa Claus, really made her day.”
“I was happy to do it,” he said with a shrug. “She’s a real cutie pie.”
“Thanks for playing along with her fantasies. I hope you don’t mind staying in character a bit longer. She isn’t up to speed on St. Nick mythology.”
“Not a problem,” he told her. “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to call a friend to come and haul me to a gas station so I can retrieve my truck and go home.” He turned to walk away.
“Mr. Madden? Wait.” It was out of character for Ellin to extend herself in such a way. Normally, she managed her problems and expected others to do the same.
But thoughts of fate and its unexpected gifts lingered in her mind. Combined with her under-exercised conscience it tweaked her into action. Here was a chance to help a man who’d gone out of his way to be nice to her daughter, her grandmother and a whole crowd of old people.
“You can call me Jack when Lizzie’s not around,” he said.
She tried to ignore his comment, but that sexy, Rhett Butler accent did some tweaking of its own. “I’ll drive you to the gas station.” It wasn’t so much an offer as it was a revelation of fact. Once Ellin made up her mind to do something, it was a done deal. “Then I’ll take you to your truck.”
“That’s very generous, but I wouldn’t want to put you out in any way.”
His tone of voice, along with the look in his eyes, let her know that he was well aware of being bossed around. Apparently, it amused him.
“Nonsense. I said I’d drive you. So I’ll drive.” Her words were a bit crisper around the edges than she intended.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
The man had to have the most intriguing eyes Ellin had ever seen. Because the rest of his face was concealed beneath the curly white beard, her attention focused on the intelligence and humor sparking behind those wire-rims. Something in their depths made her want to know him better.
And figure out just what made him tick.
It might be interesting to discover this paragon’s faults. Surely, the guy had some of those. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.” She used her best managerial voice.
“Okay, then.” His gaze swept the room, lighting on several residents who appeared to need a bit more cheer. “I want to mingle a little longer. How’s half an hour sound?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t forget to talk to Lorella,” Ida Faye called after him as he walked away.
The old woman smiled and reached out to squeeze Ellin’s hand. “You’re in Arkansas now, Ellie.”
“I know that.” She was still wondering what had possessed her to offer to help Jack Madden. Ordinarily, it would never have crossed her mind to reach out like that. But given the lengths he was willing to go to, just to bring a little happiness to others, it would have taken a harder heart than hers to refuse the call.
“Well, seems to me, you’re still acting like Chicago.” Her grandmother gave her a knowing look.
“What do you mean?”
“Around here, honey, folks are more friendly-like than maybe you’re used to in the city.”
“I was friendly,” she protested. “I said I’d help him.”
“It weren’t what you said, Ellie.” Ida Faye cackled. “It were the way you said it.”
Jack made good on his promise and remained firmly in Santa mode. After seeing Ida Faye back to her room and helping her into bed for a nap, Ellin drove him to the nearest station where he borrowed a gas can and filled it at the pump. Several people spoke to him in the process, calling him by name. She was amazed so many seemed to recognize him beneath the disguise. Granted, Washington wasn’t that big, but he couldn’t know everyone in town, could he? She hadn’t even met the people who lived next door to her in Chicago.
Excited by the party and fueled by high-octane sugar cookies and candy canes, Lizzie monopolized the conversation on the drive back to the stranded truck.
“We don’t gots a Christmas tree yet, Santa.” The can-you-believe-the-injustice-of-that was implied in her tone.
“What with the move and all, we haven’t had time to buy one yet,” Ellin said defensively. How could she admit to a man in a red velvet suit that she couldn’t muster enough holiday spirit to provide her child the most basic of Christmas traditions?
“You don’t buy Christmas trees around here,” Jack scoffed.
“You don’t? Where do you get ’em then?” Lizzie was always willing to learn something new.
“Why, you go out to the woods and chop one down. Don’t tell me you’ve never chopped down your own Christmas tree?” he asked with mock disbelief.
Lizzie shook her head solemnly. “Nope. Can you help us chop a tree, Santa?”
“Well, I have to get back to the North Pole and make sure those elves make enough toys for the children.” Her little face fell, so he added, “But I have a special friend named Jack who would be happy to take you and your mommy out to the woods.”
“I just bet he would,” Ellin muttered. What was he thinking? Didn’t he know how dangerous it was to plant an