The Kid Who Stole Christmas (5 page)

He nodded. “I’ve even developed a plan, something of a Christmas present for the both of us. You see, dearest, we don’t need to find the shipment.”

“We don’t?”

“No. We can make the shipment come to us.”

Chapter Four

B
y seven-thirty in the evening, Rick had filled in for Hans, the main Santa, a total of six times—three bathroom breaks, one dinner break and two rest periods the normally self-composed elderly gentleman referred to as sanity breaks. Even so, the man was wearing down, and Rick had the feeling that he would soon find himself in charge until closing time.

Though Rick was bearing up stoically, he didn’t know how the old guy did it. To think, he had envisioned this job as a pleasant change from physical labor.

The small of his back ached from helping the kids onto his lap. His left knee was killing him, since this was the one on which most children preferred to sit. That meant that even with the traditional heavy black boots on, his right shin was bruised and battered from the kicks—some accidental, some intentional—he had received from approximately seventy pairs of little feet. And if one more kid pulled his beard, which Leo had insisted he must glue to his face with spirit gum, Rick was quite certain he would scream.

Not that anyone would notice. For a supposedly happy occasion, there was certainly a lot of yelling going on. It was stressful for the children, standing in a long line with a hundred or so of their peers, waiting for a chance to make their fondest desires known. It was tiring, too. Some of them cracked under the pressure and started bawling. This had much the same effect as one barking dog in a quiet neighborhood; pretty soon, they were all doing it.

But for all the hollering and crying, the being thrown up on and some other even less pleasant accidents he had endured thus far, Rick had to admit he was enjoying himself. Because every now and then, in between the whiners and the grabbers, he would discover a gem.

At the moment, he had one on his lap, in the form of a six-year-old girl with the biggest brown eyes Rick had ever seen. She was looking at him. Just him. For the time being, even the candy cane each child received had been placed in the pocket of her cute paisley overalls and forgotten.

“And what’s your name, little one?” Rick asked her.

“Susan,” she replied softly.

“Susan.” He smiled. “Susie?”

She shook her head solemnly, never once taking her eyes from his face. “No. Not Susie.” Each word was spoken slowly and clearly, so there would be no mistake. “I like Susan.”

“Then Susan it shall be,” Rick said, treating her with the dignity she so obviously desired. “Have you been a good girl this year, Susan?”

“Not ‘specially.”

Rick arched his bushy white false eyebrows. “No?”

“My daddy doesn’t think so.”

Puzzled by this unprompted display of honesty, Rick looked to the girl’s mother for confirmation. She was young, perhaps twenty, with the same big brown eyes as her daughter. Blushing furiously, the young woman gave a shrug and patted the little girl’s sleek black hair.

“She’s actually been pretty good. For Susan.”

“I see,” Rick said with a knowing smile, then returned his attention to Susan. “Maybe you’d better tell Santa what you did that made your father mad.”

“I washed Peaches,” the girl replied, at last lowering her gaze. Her jet black lashes were incredibly long and fluffy against her cheeks. “Daddy didn’t like that.”

“Peaches?” Rick asked.

“My kitty.”

“Oh.” Fearing some sort of horror story, Rick again looked at the child’s mother. But she was just grinning ruefully and shaking her head, so he pressed onward. “Well, kitties don’t much like anyone washing them. They’d usually rather do it themselves.”

Susan was gazing at him again. But this time there was the strangest look in her eyes. “Peaches can’t wash herself, Mr. Claus! She’s stuffed!”

Realizing that it wouldn’t do for Santa to admit such a faux pas, Rick decided to blunder on and hope for the best. “But your daddy didn’t like it when you washed her?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” Rick asked. He wasn’t about to stop now.

“I couldn’t reach the sink. So I put her in the bathtub.”

“And left her there,” her mother continued. “For an hour. With the water running. Peaches is
very
clean now. So is everything else. The bathroom was on the second floor.”

“Daddy went ballistic,” Susan said. She had trouble with the word but obviously knew what it meant, because she pointed toward the ceiling. “Boom!”

Rick was having trouble keeping a straight face. Then he just gave up. It was his job to laugh. “Ho, ho, ho!”

Shannon could hear him laughing all the way over in the cosmetics department, where she was watching the register for a moment while the usual clerk took a quick break.

“My, that certainly is a jolly Santa!” the woman she was helping observed.

“He does seem to be getting into the spirit, doesn’t he?” Shannon agreed.

The woman smiled. “Well, he’s certainly raising my spirits!”

When the cosmetics clerk returned, Shannon went back to her own department, whistling along with the piped-in Christmas music. She had to admit Rick was raising her spirits, as well. She hadn’t been sure he would work out. But after a hesitant start, during which just being around them seemed to make him sad, Rick proved to have a genuine affinity for children, and they for him. Even Leo approved of his performance, and he was a harsh judge.

But there was more to Shannon’s improved mood than the fact that Rick was working out at the job. She could tell that she was actually doing him a service, and not only economically speaking. There was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there when he’d come in that afternoon to apply for the job.

She wanted to get to know him better. Since he was due for a break and she was about to faint with hunger, she decided a good start would be to have a chat with him while grabbing a quick bite in the cafeteria. The pickings would be slim by now, but at least it would be quiet. Not that it really mattered. She just wanted him to fill out a couple of forms and maybe have a little employer-to-employee talk.

Sure she did. That’s why she had put on a spritz of the most expensive French perfume Lyon’s carried. And touched up her lipstick. She was already in cosmetics, so why not? Just because a woman tried to look her best, that didn’t mean it was to impress a man.

“Shannon,” she muttered to herself. “You’re such a liar.”

It wasn’t that she was hard up for companionship. She had two cats, Buttons and Phil. And handsome customers were always asking her out. Of course, most of them were shopping for their kids and had wives at home, but it was the thought that counted, right?

There were also phone calls every now and then from her ex-husband who called to remind her that he still held her responsible for their lack of children and, ultimately, their lack of marriage.

Yes, Shannon had her pick of interesting diversions. But whether Rick had lost a child, too, or had endured a bitter divorce, Shannon knew that lost look. She had worn one of her own for a long time. Maybe she could help him. Maybe they could help each other. Stranger things had happened.

At last, Rick approached her. He was hobbling slightly, she noticed. “Knee or shin?” Shannon asked.

“Shin. The knee went numb an hour ago.”

“That’ll get stronger,” she informed him. “And here’s a trick for the shin.” Shannon dug around beneath the sales counter to find him a magazine. “Stick that in your boot. I’m told it works wonders.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I’ve got some forms Accounting needs you to fill out. Care to join me for a bite to eat while we take care of them?” she asked, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to her. “It’s still a couple of hours till closing time.”

Rick looked over toward Santa’s workshop, actually just a little tableau set up where the kids could get their pictures taken with Santa—and a hidden area where the Santas could switch places without anyone’s feeling they were being slighted. The crowds were thinning out a bit.

“I can’t be long,” he said. “Hans probably doesn’t have much more than another thirty minutes in him.”

“No problem,” Shannon assured him. “I should have told you earlier. There’s a cafeteria on the fourth floor. Not too fancy, but it’s clean and cheap.”

“That’s the magic word.”

They rode the elevator up. It was something of an ordeal. Rick didn’t want to take the trouble of changing, so he went in costume. And of course, his fluffy white beard was glued on. He and Shannon were the object of some interested stares.

They went over the forms Rick needed to fill out, but it was just the basics, to keep the government happy, and didn’t take them long. There were only sandwiches left, but they each bought one, ate, then lingered over coffee.

“Tough work, isn’t it?” Shannon said.

Rick nodded. “I had no idea. But I’m having a blast.”

“It shows.” She laughed. “Sorry. But I feel a bit absurd. Like I’m having a private audience with Saint Nicholas, or something.”

“Ho ho ho! And have
you
been a good little girl?”

Shannon winked coquettishly. “I always am, Santa.”

“Hmm. That’s not what Santa wanted to hear.”

She noticed that Santa had a very wicked twinkle in his eyes as he looked at her. “Rick!”

He immediately sobered and looked away.

Shannon wasn’t sure what to do. Obviously, Rick felt he’d taken their banter a step too far. She didn’t feel that way. There was a definite attraction between them, and it wasn’t going to just disappear. Shannon didn’t want it to.

She didn’t want to come on too strong, either. It had been nearly five years since her divorce from Greg, but she was still in a cautious mode, and perhaps always would be.

“It’s difficult, isn’t it?” Shannon began. “You get into such a pattern when you’re married. And afterward, it just doesn’t fit with anyone else. You have to start fresh.”

Rick nodded. “As I said earlier, you’re very astute.”

“Well, I’ve just been there, that’s all.”

“Divorced?” he asked.

“Going on five years this March,” Shannon replied. “Not that I keep track, necessarily. Heaven knows it was time for that particular union to end.”

“Mine, too,” he agreed, laughing. That surprised him. Rick hadn’t thought he would ever be able to laugh about it. Perhaps it was because he would soon have the last laugh. “We just didn’t have the same life in mind. Now I can’t see how we ever thought we would make it.”

“Ditto. Strange, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “In our case, it was lust, I suppose.”

They both smiled. Shannon liked him, and could tell by the way Rick was looking at her that he liked her, too. It was a start. Where it would lead was anyone’s guess, but it couldn’t happen at a better time.

“Would you mind?” Shannon said, pointing to his beard. “I’ll help you put it back on later.”

“Gladly. It’s getting itchy, anyway.” Rick pulled on the fake beard gently to loosen it. He slowly peeled it off. “That’s better,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“Much,” Shannon agreed. She stroked the downy soft whiskers that now lay on the table between them. “Christmas is my favorite time of year. But it can be...” She trailed off uncertainly.

“Lonely?” Rick offered.

She smiled. They were on the same wavelength. “That, too. But I was thinking of how it can be a rather melancholy reminder of the way things used to be. Not just of married days, either. Childhood days.”

“Or days with your child,” Rick said, his mood taking a sudden downswing. “Do you have any children?”

Shannon studied a tiny chip in her coffee mug. “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t.”

“I have one. A girl. She’s with her mother.”

“That must be hard.” Shannon reached out to touch his hand. In fact, she needed the contact right now, herself. “But at least you know that she’s...that she’s safe.”

Rick wasn’t the least bit comforted. “For all the good it does me,” he said, a bitter edge to his voice. “I can’t see her. Her mother forbids it.”

“She can’t do that!” Shannon exclaimed incredulously.

“Oh, but she did. All it took was money. She had lots of it, while I used up what little I had trying to stop her. I lost everything, including my little girl.”

“Well, she can’t take that from you,” Shannon objected. “Not really. You’ll always be her father.”

Rick looked at her, his face bleak. “No, I’m not. Not anymore. I gave that up, too. I didn’t have any choice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Rick muttered. He stood up, grabbing his beard from the table. “I’d better get back.”

Shannon left a tip for the busboy, and then hurried to catch up with Rick. She barely managed to slip into the elevator with him. It was crowded.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“For what? It’s not your fault.”

“I was prying,” Shannon maintained. “It’s a problem of mine. I just thought maybe I could help.”

Rick took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. He looked at her, and the concern he saw in those lovely green eyes touched his heart, a part of him that hadn’t been treated very well.

“It’s being handled, okay?” he told her. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really rather not talk about it anymore.”

When the elevator stopped at the main level, everyone got out, including some bemused shoppers who must have wondered what was going on between Santa and his redheaded companion. They made their way to the toy department, where she helped him glue on his beard, then got back to work herself.

It was about nine when Paul came to see her. He looked worried. “Have you seen Leo, Shannon? I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him for quite some time,” Shannon returned. “Maybe Pop called for the car to come get him early.”

Paul shook his head. “Pop just called for it now and told me to go round him up.”

“Did you check electronics? He’s absolutely addicted to that new video game with the wolves in it.”

“I know. I checked there first thing.”