Lone Star Santa (16 page)

“Hey, watch it. I’m driving. What are you doing?”

“Experimenting. Hold still.”

Basically, she messed his hair up and set the cap way back on his head. “There. Your eyes look bigger.”

He glanced at his reflection in the rearview. “Caps are not worn this way. I look like a dork.” He resettled it on his forehead, but now hair stuck out in front of his eyes. “Kristen.”

“Okay.” She fingercombed his hair back and carefully positioned the cap on his head.

Mitch pulled the bill down. “Covers more of my face this way.”

“I give up.” But she sounded only mildly annoyed. “So. What are we looking for?”

“I have no idea. I just thought I’d take the opportunity to look around. We’ve only got about forty-five minutes.”

“Have you been to their house before?”

Mitch shook his head. “Have you?”

“No. I would have thought you might have visited Jeremy there.”

“Jeremy and I didn’t really know each other until college and his folks only moved into that place about five years ago.”

“No doubt when the construction company really started to take off,” Kristen said dryly.

“No doubt.” The time period beginning five years ago was cropping up more and more. Five years.
Five
.

He couldn’t think about it.

He zoomed through Sugar Land on Highway 6 at a speed that would normally have gotten him face time with the local police and he doubted he could declare a lighting emergency. But the good folks of Sugar Land were all in church this holiday season and there weren’t that many bad folks. Which was why the Sloanes were so successful. No one would suspect a generous contributor to community causes. No one would
want
to suspect a generous contributor to community causes.

“The Sloane house is a huge showplace,” Kristen said. “Right on the golf course and next to a lake. Mom says they had to get the land rezoned so they could keep people from building in front of them and blocking their view.”

“Must be nice.”

“Now, now. Don’t be bitter.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll get wrinkles.”

Mitch laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I haven’t had time to get bitter.”

“Well, don’t bother.” The tone of Kristen’s voice changed and she gazed out the window as they passed houses that became more upscale and the exterior Christmas decorations more elaborate. “Bitterness is a backward emotion. You’re stuck in the past instead of living in the present and looking to the future.”

“People can be bitter in the present.”

Kristen shook her head. “People can be dissatisfied in the present.”

“Are you talking about yourself?”

“Yes and no. I’m in transition, I guess. I need to set new goals, but I’m not sure what they should be.”

Yes. Let’s discuss her problems for a change
. Before he could respond, she pointed to a small, cutesy country-style decorated wooden sign by a private road.

“I think this is it. ‘Chuck’s Stake.’ Very funny. It must have been a gift.”

Mitch turned onto the narrow asphalt drive. “I’m going to park around by the garage.”

“Okay. And then what?” she asked, very reasonably.

“I’ll give you a voltmeter and you can pretend to take readings. Tell anyone who asks that there were complaints of flickering lights and we’re checking for broken wires and shorts. If they give you any trouble, start throwing around the words ‘fire hazard’ and ‘liability release.’”

“Ooo. Liability release. That’s a good one.”

“Thanks. I don’t know if The Electric Santa has such a thing. I just made it up.”

“Well, what if they want to sign one?”

Did he have to think of everything? “I don’t know…tell them you don’t have a copy with you because nobody has ever been stupid enough to want to sign one!”

“You’re very good at this,” Kristen said. “I’m impressed. If things don’t go well for you, you might consider working for my dad.”

Mitch parked the car. “If things don’t go well for me, I’ll have a felony conviction.”

“Yeah. Bummer.”

“Bummer?” He stared at her. “That’s all you can say?”

“Shh. I’m getting into character. It’s stupid to argue about your possible future hypothetical felony conviction. Now, I’ve got my story. I’ve got my character—what’s my mission?”

Mitch had really hoped something would occur to him by now. They both stared at the house—mansion—Southern plantation—whatever. There was a pool. A guesthouse. A barbecue pit big enough to roast a steer. There was a garage complex and mechanic’s bay. When Mitch looked to one side, he saw a boat house with a dock and a sleek little cruiser in the slip. On the other side, the yard yielded to the golf course. Two golf carts were parked at the end of the private cart path that merged into the course paths.

Mitch tried not to think about how much dirty money had paid for this or where it had been to get dirty.

“I wonder what kind of crime bought this place,” Kristen said.

“I was trying not to think about it.”

“You know, after we take the Sloanes down, the government will confiscate this property and sell it at an auction. Wouldn’t it be cool to buy it? The ultimate revenge.”

“Buy it with what?”

She blinked at him. “With Jeremy’s half of the business, which you will own because you very cleverly wrote a fraud clause into your partnership agreement.”

“Nice fantasy.”

“Oh.” They stared at the house. “I should have known you were the handshake type.”

“It might surprise you to know that it was Jeremy who didn’t need more than a handshake. Bringing in lawyers after that seemed like a lack of good faith.”

“I’m not surprised. But Jeremy will be.” She smiled at him. “This is Texas, after all. A handshake has serious clout. You’ll be better off.”

“Especially if I prove I shook hands with a snake.”

“Uh—”

“Just go with it.” They were wasting time. “Okay. This is where the kickoff party will be, right?”

“Yes.”

“So we’ll just poke around for now. Let’s look for power outlets at the edge of the house and pretend to trace the light strings. Look in the windows and maybe we’ll get lucky and see something.”

“Like a sign that says ‘money-laundering operation world headquarters’?”

“Yeah, like that,” Mitch said.

Kristen made a face and got out of the car. “In your dreams.”

Mitch slammed the door. “You have yours and I’ll have mine.”

Kristen took the meter he handed her and jogged up to the house. “I should have an iPOD,” he thought he heard her say.

He stared at the house and wondered if any staff were on the premises. If he could get inside, then…then what? Sneak into the office and download the contents of the computer? Right. Except records of their laundering had to be kept somewhere. Would Chuck Sloane keep it on his home computer? Office computer? Jeremy’s computer? No computer at all?

Kristen came jogging back. “There are lights outlining the windows. Why don’t you get the ladder out of the truck?” She bounced from side to side.

“What are you doing?”

“Teenagers have lots of energy.”

He liked the way her ponytail flipped around. “You’re short.”

“Five-five is not short. Five-five is average. I was wearing heels before.”

“Oh.” He continued to watch her. The bouncing was quite nice.

“Mitch?”

“Huh?”

“I am only pretending to be a teenager, therefore I do not have a teenager’s energy. Please get the ladder!”

They carried the ladder to the front of the house. Mitch climbed it to check out the upper windows and Kristen prowled around beneath him and spied into the lower ones.

“See if it looks as though they’re getting ready to
leave. Maybe packing boxes or something,” Mitch called down to her.

“They can’t really pull up chuck stakes now—ha ha. Get it?”

“Yeees.”

“Well, they can’t pack before the party. It would look funny and people would ask questions.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Mitch’s frustration mounted. The problem with living life on the straight and narrow was that he had no experience with the crooked and wide. “See if you can find the office.”

They’d moved around to the side of the house before Kristen located the ground floor office. Mitch had climbed down the ladder and was looking inside when they heard the purr of a car engine coming from the golf course side.

“They can’t be back already!” Kristen turned a panicked face toward him.

“Worse.” Mitch stared at the approaching car. The lapis metallic blue car. “That’s a Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet. Jeremy’s car.” He drew a long, fortifying breath. “I wonder what kind of damage a plastic Santa can do to a Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet.”

“It depends on whether it’s attached to a truck at the time.” Kristen clamped both hands around his arm. “Get back up on the ladder,” she ordered. “Keep your face turned away and make some noise with the staple gun. I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t talk to him!” Mitch climbed the ladder. “Ignore him. You’re checking for wiring problems. You’ll be invisible to him.”

She put one hand on her hip. “Oh, honey, I am
never
invisible to men.”

“You’re supposed to be in
high school!
”

“I wasn’t invisible then, either.”

This was not going to go well.

Jeremy drove the car toward the garage with an impressive waste of power. He screeched to a pinpoint stop. Gravel pinged Mitch’s ladder.

What was Jeremy doing here now? It was over a week until Christmas—who was running the company? Other than tax-time, this was their busiest time of the year. Who was looking after their clients? Did they
have
any clients left? Real ones?

Mitch had a horrible thought. Had they ever had real clients?

The thought made him queasy, which wasn’t good since he was on a ladder.

A door slammed. In the reflection on the window glass, Mitch watched Jeremy’s progress. He withdrew an overnighter, hanging bag and a duffel.

He was obviously home for Christmas.

“Hey, there.” It was the friendly opener Jeremy used with women. And he was using it on Kristen.

Had he recognized her? Mitch let loose with a couple of staples.

“Hey,” she responded. “Nice car.”

No!
Hadn’t he told her not to talk to Jeremy?

“Thanks. I haven’t had it long. It was my twenty-fifth birthday present to myself.”

Liar
. And shaving years off his age?

“Sweet.” Kristen moved closer.

Jeremy dumped his luggage off to the side. “Want to go for a ride?”

Mitch abused the windowsill with a flurry of staples.

“Can’t. I’m working.” She bounced a little.

No bouncing
.

Jeremy leaned against his car in “the pose.” Mitch had taken pictures of him in “the pose.” There was a framed one in Jeremy’s office.

“So what are you working on?”

“Oh—” she flung an arm toward the house “—some of the lights are messin’ up so we’re fixing them.”

Jeremy glanced up at Mitch, who pretended to be checking bulbs. If there had been a real problem, it would have been far more cost effective to replace the string and be done with it. He hoped Jeremy didn’t think of that.

“What are you doing
after
you fix the lights?”

“Writing a paper.” Kristen’s unenthusiastic voice brought back memories.

“College?”

“No, silly.” She giggled. “High school. I’m a senior.”

She should have gone with college, Mitch grumbled to himself. He let loose with another barrage of staples. He could only stay up here so long. It was just a string of icicle Christmas lights. He looked at the line of staples. When the lights came down, they’d probably bring the windowsill with them.

In the sudden silence, he caught the last of what Kristen was saying.

“…cheerleader.”

What?
What
?

“Ready? O-
kay!
” She positioned herself, hands on hips, feet together. “We’re the sweetest, you’re so sour…”

She was doing a cheer. A cheer. For Jeremy. Mitch risked looking down.

“…you’ve got nothing, we’ve got power!”

Now she was jumping up and down squealing, “Yea, Sugar Land!”

Jeremy was lapping it up.

And Mitch? Mitch was flashing back to Friday night’s outfit. Someday…

But back to Jeremy, who did not know about Friday night’s outfit and should not be lapping up anything of high school age.

“Good ole Sugar Land,” Jeremy was saying. “Hey, I don’t know your name. I’m Jeremy.”

Mitch tried to drown out Kristen with the staple gun, but the thing quit working.

“Krissie.”

Krissie was too close to Kristen. She was going to give him heart failure.

“Well, Krissie, I’m staying with my parents this week. There’s supposed to be some party here.”

No
. He wouldn’t. Actually, Jeremy would. But Kristen—no. No, she wouldn’t dare. Mitch smacked the staple gun against the side of the house. Why wouldn’t the stupid thing work?

“Oh, yeah! It’s for the Light Parade volunteers. Everybody will be here.”

“Including you?” Jeremy’s voice was low and sexy. Not sexy to Mitch, but no doubt appealing to a high school girl who didn’t know any better.

“Well, duh!” chirped Kristen.

Mitch snickered under his breath.

“Maybe I can take you for a ride then,” Jeremy said. “We can see all the lights. You can fill me in on what’s happening at Sugar Land High these days.”

Incredible. The man was hitting on a high school girl.

“I can’t.” She sounded convincingly disappointed. “I’ll be working the parade and there’s no way Mom and Dad will let me go out that late.”

Good girl.

She looked down and fiddled with the voltmeter. “I’ve got finals this week, but we could get together after the party.” She bit her lip and gazed at him from beneath her cap.

Bad girl.

Mitch really hoped she saw the smug I’ve-got-you-and-I-know-it expression on Jeremy’s face before he inhaled and unfolded his arms. “The ’rents and I are going skiing right after the party.” Bending down, he retrieved his luggage. “Unless you’re up for a study break, it looks like you’ll miss out.”