DID YOU KNOW?
Pleasant Sands has an average elevation of just 7 feet above sea level.
Angela sat in a chair by the fire pit. Not because it was cold, it was a pretty nice night, but she loved relaxing near the flickering flames, letting herself be mesmerized by the combination of the fire and the sound of crashing waves.
Growing up here there hadn’t been an ordinance against building a fire on the beach. As a kid, they’d done that nearly every weekend the weather permitted.
She opened her laptop to catch up on email while she waited for Marie and Chrissy.
It seemed like there was more junk mail than important emails in her inbox these days. Click, click, click, she deleted the obvious junk and spam, and filed the important stuff so she could deal with that later.
The subject line of the next email made her pause.
Re: Dear Santa ~ Ho! Ho! Ho!
Santa?
She clicked on the email, fully expecting a generic response.
Wait a minute. This did not seem like an autogenerated email.
Was someone actually answering these letters?
Thank goodness Marie hadn’t let her send the first draft she’d written.
“Hey, sis! We’re here.”
“Aunt Angela?”
Angela laid her laptop on the table next to her and ran inside. “Hey, you two. I was outside by the fire.”
Chrissy bounced into the room wearing a red jumpsuit with a candy cane design on it, then came to a stop. “You started having fun without us?”
“No way! You’re the most fun part of the night,” Angela said. “Now we can get started, and I bought treats!” She grabbed Chrissy’s tiny hand and led her into the kitchen.
Chrissy’s eyes danced with delight when she spotted the decorations on the island. She ran over to the edge, tippy-toeing to get a better look at the decadent baked goods under the glass dome.
“Wow,” she said breathily. “Auntie Angela. Can we really eat those?”
“We can.”
“Mom! Come look!”
Marie walked over and shook her head. “I’m going to have to hit the gym an extra time this week.”
Angela lifted the dome. “Which one do you want, Chrissy? You get first pick.”
Chrissy took her time examining the six goodies.
A cookie decorated like a Christmas ornament. Two cookies stacked with shiny red jelly in the middle, a snowflake intricately cut from the top layer. A chocolate-dipped cake pop that looked like a reindeer with pretzels for antlers. A miniature cake with silver dragées. A red-and-green petit four. A chocolate-layered pastry that was taller than it was wide, with a real-looking red fondant ribbon and bow on top.
Chrissy glanced over toward her mom, looking for approval.
“It’s okay,” Marie said.
“Can I have the pretty one that looks like a wrapped present?”
“You can. That is the prettiest one. Perfect for my pretty niece.” Angela slid the parchment cup off of the tray and onto a small plate. “How about you, Marie. What’s your pleasure?”
“They all look delicious. I’ll take the petit four.”
“Deal,” Angela said.
Angela chose the cookie in the shape of an ornament.
“Let’s sit out back.” They all headed to the deck. Angela held Chrissy’s plate so she could climb into the large Adirondack chair.
Marie sat down and picked up the laptop. “What is this?”
Angela handed Chrissy her plate, then turned and took the laptop from Marie’s hands. “That is not for you, nosey.”
“Well, it was sitting right there.”
Marie had always been too nosey for her own good. Probably why she was such a good lawyer.
“What are you hiding from me?” Marie asked.
She was about to burst, which made it really hard to not smile. “I got a letter.”
“What kind of letter? Like a letter of credit? Sis, you know how I feel about you taking more money out to try to save—”
“No! Not a letter of credit. An email. Not really a letter at all, but you know what I mean.”
“What in blazes are you talking about? A love letter?”
Angela shook her head. “No, but it would be funny if Santa was writing me love letters. Would that put me on the ‘nice’ list forever? Which, by the way, he did say I was on.”
“Of course you are. You’re the nicest person I know.”
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, but somehow coming from Santa it’s way more cool.”
“Santa wrote you back already?” Chrissy asked.
“He did.”
“My sister is dating Santa?”
“No, but he did write me back.”
Marie gave Angela an exaggerated wink, then whispered to her, “See, it didn’t kill you, did it?”
“No.” She shrugged. “It was way more specific than I’d expected, though.”
Chrissy pulled her feet into the chair. “I told you he could help.”
“He was very nice,” Angela said. Careful to not spoil the magic of Santa for her niece, she added, “But he didn’t exactly say he’d help.”
“What’d he say?” Marie prodded.
Angela glared at her sister. “I really don’t think this is the right audience.”
“What’s an ahh-de-aunts?” Chrissy asked.
“We’ll talk later,” Marie said. “Fine. Let me just see that letter.”
“Nope.” Angela shook her head, kind of enjoying leading her sister along on this chase for information. “I don’t think this was an autogenerated letter. It was personal. And thoughtful. Nice.”
“Chrissy, go get my phone out of my purse. Okay, honey?”
“Yes ma’am.” She sprung from her chair and tugged on the door to go inside.
Marie turned on Angela. “What did Santa say?”
“He said I should be brave, that a new approach may make a surprising difference. I’ve been mulling that over and I think he’s right. I need to do something different. Closing Heart of Christmas is the right thing to do.”
Marie’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that exactly what someone else said? Who was that? Oh, I think it was me. Someone else says it, and just like that, you’re relaxed and ready to face the unknown?”
“Yes. I guess I am.”
“Let me see that letter.” Marie grabbed for the laptop.
“No, but he does seem like a perfect gentleman.”
“Write him back, then,” Marie teased.
“I can’t do that. This is not online dating. Besides, everyone knows Santa is married.”
“True. Maybe you better just let it drop. He could be an ax murderer.”
“Santa can’t be a bad guy. They’d totally catch him. Who else would be out on Christmas Eve every year?”
“Santa is nice!” Chrissy exclaimed. “He doesn’t like bad guys!”
They hadn’t heard her slip back onto the porch.
“You’re right. He’s super-nice, Chrissy. But he’d be easy to profile,” Marie agreed. “Are you going to email him back?”
“No way.”
“Why not? What other plan do you have?”
“He really can help,” Chrissy insisted.
“It was a nice letter,” Angela said. “If I met a guy that was thoughtful I’d be thrilled, but I can’t decide if it’s a very clever autorespond or a person, and I sure don’t want to be emailing a computer.”
“Hand it over.” Marie extended her hand and snapped her fingers.
“It’s Santa,” Chrissy said. “You have to listen to what he says. That’s the way it works.”
Angela gave the laptop to Marie and sat quietly for a moment. “Well. What do you think?”
Marie silently read the email again, her lips moving as she did. “Yeah. I think you’re right. This doesn’t seem like an autoresponder, but it has to be. There is no way people are responding to all those letters.” Marie nibbled on her petit four, then said, “I think you should write back. Be a little more specific this time, and challenge this R2D2 responder.”
Angela laughed. “We’ll probably break the computer.”
“No harm in that. It’ll be fun to challenge it and see what kind of funny response we get. Come on. Let’s do it. And at the very least we can just thank him.”
“Okay. Fine. You type this one,” Angela said. “I’ll make the hot chocolate while you play with Santa.”
“Can I help?” Chrissy asked.
Marie said, “You go help Angela in the kitchen.”
Angela and Chrissy went into the kitchen. They made hot chocolate and poured it into three big red polka-dotted mugs. “Your turn to decorate with the marshmallows,” Angela said to Chrissy.
When Angela carried the tray of mugs back outside, Marie had the laptop closed in her lap.
“Did you write it?”
“Of course,” Marie said. “I charge people by the hour. I have to work fast or they get mad.”
“Are you going to let me see what you wrote?”
“Nope. You’ll just have to wait until you get his response.”
“Give me that laptop.”
Marie handed her the computer.
Angela pulled up the sent folder of her email. “There’s nothing here. You didn’t send anything.” She relaxed into her chair. “You had me there for a minute.”
“Actually, a good lawyer knows all about how people cover their tracks. I deleted the copy in your sent mail.”
Marie had that sly grin on her face.
Angela rolled her eyes. “I think it’s marshmallow-toasting time,” she said to Chrissy. “Your mom is up to no good. I can tell by the look in her eyes. Like the time she sprinkled baby powder on my French toast.”
“Mom? You wouldn’t do that.” Chrissy’s face screwed up in disgust. “Ewww.”
“I might have done that,” Marie said, not looking one bit sorry, which only gave Angela more reason to worry.
If things were fair and just in the world, Chrissy would take that bit of knowledge and run with it. Angela hoped French toast was on the menu this week, and Marie would get her just desserts.