The Perfect Christmas (6 page)

A
t the end of their brief telephone conversation, Angie had said she’d call Cassie once she got home Sunday evening. Although it’d been an offhand comment, Cassie was surprised when she didn’t hear from her. Apparently Angie’s last-minute meeting with her friend had turned into more of an event.

Cassie didn’t think much about it until Angie showed up at the lab Monday morning. Her friend’s face radiated…joy. Unmistakable joy.

“Well, well, well,” Cassie said, watching Angie closely. Something was up, and it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that a man was involved. Clearly Angie had met someone special. The “old friend” from yesterday evening?

“Stop looking at me like that,” Angie said, blushing.

“You’re in love, aren’t you?”

Angie’s eyes widened. “You can tell? Really?”

Cassie nodded. “You’ve got the happy look. You know, the one we all get when we first realize we’re falling for someone.” She knew it had to be the “friend” Angie had seen last night.

Angie shyly glanced away. “The most incredible feeling came over me this morning.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “It’s like…a sixth sense, a knowledge, that this man could be the one.”

“That’s the feeling I’m talking about.” Cassie had never experienced it herself, but she’d seen it again and again with her friends.

A wistful happiness shone from Angie’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything else.

After several minutes Cassie couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well?” she asked.

The reflective look disappeared and was instantly replaced by one that was far more guarded. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to give me details?”

Angie hesitated. “Of course…but not yet.”

This confused Cassie. First, there was very little they didn’t tell each other—except for Angie’s meeting with the matchmaker and it was easy to understand why her friend hadn’t mentioned that, since Simon had rejected her as a client. If it’d happened to her, Cassie wouldn’t have announced it, either. But this was an entirely different matter. For some reason, Angie preferred to remain tight-lipped about this man in her life. Well, so be it. When necessary, Cassie could be patient. If Angie wanted to keep this mystery man to herself for a while, Cassie would respect that.

“I’ll tell you everything soon,” Angie said. “It’s just that I’d like to hold on to this feeling for a little longer.”

Still, Cassie couldn’t help being curious. “Would it hurt to let me know how you met?”

Angie’s face relaxed into a warm smile. “You’ll love that part. We sort of stumbled upon each other. We dated for a while ages ago and decided it wasn’t going to work. Or rather, he did, not me. So I began the search again.”

“So this is the guy you’ve been in love with all along?”

Angie nodded. “You’ll meet him,” she said a second time. “I promise.”

“Will you be seeing him soon?”

“No. It’s a bit…complicated at the moment.”

“Complicated?” Cassie didn’t like the sound of that. “He’s not married or anything, is he?”

Angie shook her head. “Oh, no! Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Cassie smiled, then glanced down at her feet. “Actually,” she said in a low voice, “I was hoping to chat with you last night. I had a couple of questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“I wanted to ask you about Simon.”

“What about him?”

“Basically…I was curious. Other than the information on his Web site, what do you know?”

Angie shrugged. “Not much.”

“How did you hear about him?”

“He was a birthday gift—at least, the first consultation was.”

“Who from?”

“My mother. She wants grandchildren and knew how brokenhearted I was when…this other relationship ended. She heard about Simon when he did a radio interview.”

“Simon did a radio interview?”

“I don’t think he does them often. This was around Valentine’s Day a few years back.”

“Oh.”

Angie cocked her head to one side. “Why this interest in Dr. Dodson all of a sudden?”

Cassie didn’t want Angie or anyone to suspect how intrigued she was by the matchmaker. She found her thoughts drifting toward him far more often than was comfortable. She told herself that once her curiosity was satisfied, he’d drift into the background where he belonged.

While she’d gone on to his Web site—the address was noted on his business card—she hadn’t searched further.

That evening, she did. She logged on to the Internet and immediately typed his name into Google. There wasn’t a
lot,
but enough to answer some of her questions. He’d been a Rhodes scholar, attending Cambridge—after Harvard. He’d taught at a prestigious East Coast college. He’d written political articles for the
Wall Street Journal
and the
New York Times.
Just as she’d realized earlier, he had opinions about everything and didn’t mind sharing them…in unvarnished prose.

According to Wikipedia, Simon had never been married. She found that…interesting.

Intent as she was on reading her computer screen, the phone startled her. “Yes,” Cassie said, snatching it up. Her gaze stayed on the screen for fear she’d miss a single detail.

“Ms. Beaumont?” The female voice was vaguely familiar. “This is Dr. Dodson’s office.”

A chill raced down her spine. Simon knew she was online, reading about him! He was about to inform her that she’d forfeited her thirty thousand dollars. “I won’t do it again!” she blurted without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“Were you phoning because—” Cassie stopped abruptly, aware of how absurd she’d been. How paranoid. “Can I help you?” she asked sweetly.

By now Ms. Snelling sounded utterly confused. “Would it be convenient for you to stop by tomorrow afternoon at four-thirty?” she asked.

“Ah, sure.” That meant leaving work a bit early, which wasn’t really a problem.

“Thank you. Dr. Dodson will see you then.”

Rattled as she was, Cassie had hung up before she thought to ask what the meeting was about. She assumed Simon would be giving her the information regarding her second task. But why not call? Maybe he had her elf costume, although that seemed unlikely.

She felt a sense of expectation. She had to admit that Simon fascinated her, although she didn’t especially like him—any more than he liked her. Perhaps he represented a challenge and she couldn’t resist trying to make him aware of her as a woman.
Everyone
needed to be liked and appreciated, even Simon.
That was probably what had led him into the matchmaking business. Certainly the couples she’d spoken to had expressed their appreciation—if not liking—for him. So maybe he couldn’t achieve romantic satisfaction for himself but he could for others. It all seemed rather lonely.

On Tuesday, she kept checking her watch. Angie, who might otherwise have commented, was preoccupied, as well. Cassie had decided not to question her about this new, or rather resumed, relationship. When Angie was ready to tell her, she would. Cassie could only hope this man turned out to be everything Angie believed he was. Perhaps they could have a double wedding!

Because Simon had kept her waiting at their previous appointments, Cassie didn’t bother to show up until four forty-five. His assistant’s disapproval was obvious. When Cassie stepped up to the desk, the older woman regarded her with distaste. “You’re late.”

“Well, yes… Simon, Dr. Dodson, was late the past two times and—”

“And you felt turnabout was fair play,” he said, standing in the doorway leading to his office. “If you’ll forgive the cliché.” His arms were crossed and he looked more amused than annoyed.

It’d been four days since she’d last seen him and it struck her again how attractive he was.

He arched his brows. “You have nothing to say? Generally I can’t get you to shut up and now you act as if we’ve never met.”

“No…I figured you’d be late and—and I didn’t want
to waste time sitting here…” she stammered, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Then don’t keep me waiting again,” she returned.

His shoulders relaxed. “Ah, I see the Cassie I recognize is back. Follow me. We have business to discuss.” He walked into his office, Cassie close behind him.

Without waiting for an invitation, she took the visitor’s chair across from his desk. She leaned back, legs crossed, trying to appear confident.

Looking stiff and formal once more, Simon sat down. “I asked to see you because I have the information concerning your agreement to work as Santa’s helper.”

She nodded. “Okay, but you could’ve phoned—unless you have my outfit.”

“Outfit?”

“For my elf job.”

Simon shook his head, and for the first time since she’d arrived, he seemed edgy. “There’s been a small change in plans.”

“Change? What do you mean?”

“The mall has experienced a decline in the number of parents bringing their children to meet Santa.”

“Does this mean Santa won’t be requiring my help, after all?” She did her best to keep her enthusiasm to a minimum. She wouldn’t mind getting out of this; she liked children—in fact, she loved them—but if her tasks were limited to two instead of three, she’d be done that much sooner. Then Simon could introduce her to John.

Despite herself, she felt a twinge of regret at the idea of never seeing Simon again. But once he’d made the official introduction, his role would be over, his job done. She realized she’d miss his acerbic responses…?.

Simon frowned at her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Cassie answered a bit more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m sure you’re not interested in my thoughts.”

Again his brows shot toward his hairline. “I wonder how long it will take you to learn that I do not ask questions unless I
am
interested in the answer.”

Cassie threw back her head. “All right, fine. I was just thinking that you’re a very odd man. I find I’m rather…intrigued by you. Not in any romantic way, of course.”

“Of course,” he said dryly. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is.”

“It’s more like…driving past a car wreck. Horrible though it is, you can’t stop yourself from looking.”

His frown deepened. “I can assure you my life is no wreck—nor is my car.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with your car.”

Ignoring her comment and its implication, Simon picked up a piece of paper. “As I was saying, I heard from the Tacoma Mall regarding your assignment. There’s been a slight change.”

“Is this because of what you said earlier—that there’s a decline in the number of children visiting Santa?”

“Yes. But here’s what—”

“Oh, wait, I have a question,” Cassie broke in.

Simon looked up at the ceiling as though his patience, which was always in short supply, had been sorely tested yet again. “No.”

“That’s rather dictatorial,” she said. “How could a question hurt?”

“If you’d let me get a word in edgewise… I’m trying to give you some important information.”

“About helping Santa?” Simon acted as if she’d have to smuggle top secret papers to the north pole.

“This relates directly to your assignment,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I need to know if you’re afraid of heights.”

How could that possibly pertain to her working as an elf? “Not really. Why?”

Simon paused. “Maybe you should ask me your question, after all, before I explain.”

“I’d rather hear what you have to say first.”

He sighed loudly. “I talked to the mall and—”

“Yes, yes, we’ve been through this.”

“I did mention that a uniform—a costume—is required.”

“Yes.” His reluctance to get to the point was beginning to concern her.

“I wasn’t aware anything like this would be asked of you, but I’m encouraged that you don’t have any fear of heights.”

“I don’t have to swing from the top of the Space Needle, do I?”

“No…” He exhaled slowly, staring down at his desk. “The mall wants the first elf—that would be you—to arrive by wire.”

Cassie swallowed hard. “You’re not referring to a telegram, are you?”

“No.”

“A wire…from where?”

Again he avoided meeting her gaze. “The ceiling.”

Cassie frowned, attempting to picture it. “You mean they want me to fly in like Peter Pan?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re joking!” This was the most preposterous idea she’d ever heard.

“The reindeer will follow you.”

“
Live
reindeer?”

“They’re plastic, but the mall wants to make a real production of Santa’s arrival.”

“And,” she said, swallowing again since her mouth was so dry, “I’m part of the production.”

“Yes. Are you willing to do this?” he asked.

Cassie’s fingers tightened around her purse strap. “Would I still meet John if I decline?”

Simon hesitated. “This wasn’t part of our original agreement, so I’d need to find a replacement task. That might take a few weeks.”

“I don’t want to wait any longer than I already have to.”

“Then I’ll inform the mall there won’t be a problem and they can expect you on Saturday morning around nine.”

Her complete lack of reaction must have alerted Simon to the fact that she was having second thoughts.

“No need to worry,” Simon assured her. “I’ve been
told it’s quite safe. The wire will hold up to four hundred pounds.”

“Oh.” Cassie couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. When she glanced up, she thought, just for a moment, that she saw a smile on Simon’s face. She leaned forward. “Were you smiling?”

“Pardon me?”

“You were smiling, weren’t you? You’re enjoying this.” The man should be arrested for deriving pleasure from her humiliation.

His mouth quivered, but Simon had the good grace to look away. “Actually, I was thinking you’re going to manage this quite well. You’re a woman who’s destined for high places.”

Unfortunately, his vote of confidence didn’t excite her. And his joke didn’t amuse her.

“T
his must be a joke,” Cassie said, staring at the limp green tights. No way was she going to stuff her hips and thighs into those.

“Dr. Dodson gave us your size, miss,” said an elderly woman, whose name tag identified her as Daisy.

“He did?” Well, if he assumed she wore a size four, then who was she to enlighten him with the truth? Besides, the material did stretch.

Daisy handed her the elf costume, which consisted of a short green dress, like a skater’s, with white faux fur edging the hem and a wide red belt. A green Santa-style hat with a white fur ball dangling from the end com
pleted the outfit. But the pièce de résistance was a gold-painted pair of slippers with curled-up toes.

“The changing room is this way,” Daisy said as she guided her down the dimly lit mall corridor.

Cassie followed, clutching the uniform, the hat and shoes.

“I can’t tell you how pleased we are that you agreed to do this,” Daisy was telling her. “You already have an audience of children waiting.”

This wasn’t news Cassie wanted to hear. “Where will Santa be while I’m floating through the air?”

“Oh, he’ll be right behind you.”

“Great.” So she wouldn’t be doing a solo flight. If she was going to descend from the clouds, Santa should do the same.

“Only…Santa will be on ground level,” Daisy explained.

This was unfair.

The woman stopped and, frowning, bent down to pick up an empty beer can. “Oh, dear,” she grumbled. “I’m afraid Floyd’s been at it again.”

“And who is Floyd?” Cassie asked a bit fearfully.

Daisy’s voice was a low whisper. “He’s Santa.”

Was she saying Santa was a
drunk?
Outrageous!

“Santa?” Cassie cried.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Daisy hurried to say. “Floyd’s a wonderful Santa and the kids love him. The problem is, the children can be a bit wearing…as you’ll discover for yourself in a few minutes.” Daisy led her through a dark tunnel to some kind of alleyway deep inside the mall. “There’s a ladies’ room back here where
you can change into your costume. I’ll wait outside and once you’re done, I’ll have one of the technicians help you into the harness.”

Cassie gaped at her.

“We want you to be as safe as possible,” Daisy said in a confiding voice. “The wire will lower you from the top level of the mall to the ground floor.”

“Oh.” Cassie couldn’t recall if the mall was two or three levels. One thing was guaranteed—she’d have her eyes closed the entire flight.

As if reading her mind, Daisy added, “You have to play this up, you know.”

“Play this up?” Cassie asked skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“To the crowd. We want you to yell out that Santa’s on his way and all the boys and girls will be getting a gift from him.”

“We’re giving them gifts?”

“Candy canes. The children look forward to receiving those.”

A cheap candy cane was a gift? That seemed to be an exaggeration—but who was Cassie to quibble over truth in advertising?

They finally got to the ladies’ room and Cassie went inside. She removed her shoes and then her jeans and sweater. She hung what she could on the hook of the stall door, then sat on the toilet in order to slip on the tights.
Force
them on was more accurate.

The fit was so tight, they felt like an extra skin. Unfortunately they didn’t reach all the way to her waist. One wrong move, and Cassie feared they’d roll down
and reveal features—like her butt—that she’d rather keep private. It helped a little to jump up and down and then prance around, pulling on the waistband as she did. She also did a couple of squats. Still, the tights didn’t stretch quite as far as she would’ve liked.

“Is everything all right in there, dear?” Daisy asked.

“Just fine,” Cassie told her. Thankfully, the mini-dress fit. The shoes were good, too. She adjusted the hat in the bathroom mirror and realized she’d need to secure it for the flight. Digging around the bottom of her purse, she located two paper clips, which worked—sort of. How long those paper clips had been there and where they’d come from would forever remain a mystery. Cassie could only be grateful for their presence.

She opened the restroom door, feeling more than a little foolish.

Daisy stood back and brought both hands to her face. “Oh, this is just perfect.”

“I look okay?”

“You look
wonderful.
The children are going to be so excited.” Daisy glanced at her watch, then led Cassie to an elevator. Silently they rode to the second floor, where a crew of men seemed to be waiting for her. Eight—or was it nine?—life-size plastic reindeer were lined up against the wall beside an authentic-looking sleigh.

Before Cassie had a chance to ask any questions, two of the men stepped forward and strapped her into a harness. They moved her arms, each grasping one, lifting them up and down.

One of the men murmured something in Spanish.
She couldn’t understand what he’d said, but got the gist of it when he made the sign of the cross and raised his eyes heavenward.

“Don’t look down,” the other man advised her tersely.

“You don’t have a thing to worry about,” Daisy said with a grandmotherly smile.

Suddenly a voice came over the loudspeaker system. “Boys and girls, moms and dads—is that Santa’s sleigh I hear?”

The man next to her jingled bells and everyone looked up to where Cassie stood.

“Okay, boys,” Daisy whispered and stepped back.

Suddenly Cassie was hoisted from the ground. Her feet made running movements as she scrabbled to find her footing and instead found only air.

“Play to the crowd,” Daisy instructed in a loud stage whisper.

“Santa’s on his way!” Cassie called out, doing her best to sound enthusiastic although she was absolutely terrified. “I can see him now! Look, here comes Santa.”

And then it happened. Cassie gasped as her tights rolled down, catching on her thighs. She didn’t know what to do. The tights slid farther down and everyone in the entire mall seemed to be staring up at her.

“I can see the elf’s underpants,” a little boy called, pointing at her.

Suspended above the ground, Cassie watched as several mothers covered their children’s eyes.

“Get her to the ground fast,” Cassie heard Daisy hiss.

The men released the rope and Cassie plunged downward. “Yiiiiiii!” she screamed, all the while struggling to pull up her tights. She’d partially succeeded—then saw that she was about to make a crash landing.

Just when it seemed she was destined to slam into the ground, a tall man emerged from the crowd and deftly caught her in his arms. The impact would have been enough to send them both sprawling to the floor if not for the fact that he’d braced his feet. Together they staggered backward until her hero recovered his balance.

Cassie opened her eyes to see that the stranger who’d rescued her wasn’t a stranger at all. Her startled eyes met Simon’s, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Cassie’s arms were tightly wrapped around his neck. It took time for her to find her voice and, when she did, it came out in a high-pitched squeal.

“You’re paying for this,” she told him, her pulse hammering in her ears. Why she’d ever agreed to this ridiculous scenario she’d never know. One thing was for sure; there wouldn’t be a repeat performance.

Simon lowered her to the ground. “A simple thank-you will suffice,” he said calmly.

Fortunately the audience was distracted by the flying reindeer, and no one could hear her X-rated response. Santa made his appearance, slipping out from behind a curtain. Santa Floyd carried a large bag over his shoulder, presumably filled with candy canes.

Santa ascended to his special chair, a huge cushioned monstrosity set up on the curtained dais, and Cassie
took her place beside him. She looked around for Simon but he was nowhere in sight. The boys and girls lined up with their parents, and the photographer was ready with his camera.

The first boy clung to his mother. “He’s a little scared,” the woman explained, prying her son loose from her leg.

The poor kid was panic-stricken. Cassie couldn’t understand why the mother felt it was so important to make him sit on Santa’s lap.

“There’s no need to be frightened.” Cassie crouched down and tried to reassure the boy, who couldn’t have been more than four years old.

“Go away!” he shouted.

Cassie straightened and stepped back. Her timing was perfect. The boy, without even a hint of warning, vomited on one of her shoes.

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry,” the mother said a dozen times. “I had no idea Jason was going to do that.”

Cassie hopped around on one foot until the photographer produced a small towel. If Jason was any indication of what she should expect, Cassie could only imagine the rest of her day.

“Why don’t you sit on Santa’s lap with your son,” the photographer suggested. The mother appeared eager to do anything that would remove attention from Cassie and the results of her son’s queasy stomach. She clambered onto Floyd’s lap, her son dangling from her arms.

After cleaning off her shoe, Cassie returned to her duties. The next few children had obviously had prior
experience. They all told Santa their Christmas wishes, rattling off everything on their lists.

The line moved relatively well for the next half hour or so. There was the occasional crying baby and one pair of twins who took up more time than allotted, but all in all, it was a smooth-running operation.

Cassie had worked about two hours of her three-hour shift and was just beginning to think this job was tolerable. A lot of the children, while frightened, were eager to meet Santa. “Who are
you?
” a little girl asked as she waited patiently for her turn some time later. Cassie’s shift was almost over by then, and there were only a few more kids in line. Other than a harrowing entrance and one small boy with a queasy stomach, it hadn’t worked out so badly.

“Who am I?” Cassie repeated the question. “I’m one of Santa’s helpers,” she said as she handed the child a candy cane.

“Are you really an elf?”

Cassie nodded.

“You don’t look like an elf.”

“I don’t?” Cassie said, surprised.

“You look more like a—”

“You pushed in front of me,” the child’s mother protested, elbowing the woman ahead of her in line.

“I most certainly did not!” The second woman elbowed the other one back as her son watched, eyes wide.

“Mommy, I have to pee.” This plaintive declaration came from the first combatant’s daughter, aged four or five.

“We are not getting out of this line now. I’ll find you a restroom as soon as we’re done,” she said and shoved her way to the front, dragging the little girl.

“Would you kindly tell this person that I was ahead of her?” The comment was directed at Cassie by the other woman. The shoving match continued.

“Sorry,” Cassie said, coming to stand between the two mothers. “I really wasn’t paying attention, but if this goes on, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you both to leave.” She said this with great authority and was rather proud of herself.

“Mommy,” the little girl cried, her voice urgent now. “I can’t wait anymore.”

That was when Cassie felt the warm liquid soak into the top of her foot. She glanced down and saw a small waterfall raining down, ruining her shoe—the one unstained by vomit.

Letting out a yell, she leaped back and automatically shook her foot.

“Orange!” the woman shouted.

“It’s okay. I don’t have to pee anymore.”

“Oh, dear…”

“Your daughter’s name is Orange?” the other woman asked.

The first woman nodded. “We’re from Florida.”

The second mother backed away from the puddle on the floor, clutching her son’s hand—and leaving Orange at the head of the line.

“I have a tissue.” Orange’s mother—Grapefruit? Cassie thought hysterically—offered her a crumpled wad.

“I’m fine,” Cassie muttered. She intended to burn
these tights once her shift was over. The shoes were probably goners, too. She wondered if Simon could possibly have known what this stint would entail.

After the two squabbling mothers had finished with Santa, a young girl, the very last one in line, approached Cassie all by herself.

“She hasn’t paid,” the photographer said as he returned his camera to its case.

Pleading eyes were raised to Cassie’s. “I need to talk to Santa for just a minute,” the girl whispered. “You don’t have to give me a candy cane.”

“How old are you?” Cassie asked, bending down so they were eye-to-eye.

“Eight.”

Just a bit too old to believe in Santa Claus. And yet the child was so intent, Cassie didn’t feel she could turn her away.

“Forget about the picture,” she said when the photographer cast her a dirty look.

“Ho. Ho. Ho. And who do we have here?” Santa asked, ignoring the other man. He held out his arms to the child.

“Catherine,” the child said softly. She walked up to Santa but didn’t sit on his lap.

“And what would you like for Christmas?” he asked, playing his role to the hilt.

Staring down at the carpet, the child said, “I want my daddy to come home.” Huge tears welled in her eyes. “He left and now my mommy says they’re getting a divorce. All I want for Christmas is my daddy back.”

Cassie felt tears burning in her own eyes. She looked at Floyd and wondered how he’d handle this.

“That’s a mighty big order, Catherine,” he said.

“I don’t want anything else. I don’t need toys but I need my daddy.”

“Catherine?” A woman’s voice echoed through the mall.

“I’m here, Mommy!”

The child’s mother rushed up the steps to Santa’s throne and fell to her knees in front of her daughter. She seemed about to burst into tears. “I looked
everywhere
for you,” she cried. She threw her arms around her daughter’s waist.

“I told you I was going to talk to Santa,” Catherine reminded her. “I had to wait in line.”

“I’m sorry if Catherine caused a problem,” her mother said and, standing, took the little girl by the hand—but not before Santa whispered a few words in the child’s ear.