| |
“There. She’s slowing. Slowing. Whoa!” Steve choked. “Where’d she go?” He craned his head out the driver’s window. The sky had turned dark, but stars weren’t glimmering yet, and the friendly neighborhoods of Hope Valley had receded. “Brie? Anything?”
“Sorry, Santa, nothing.”
“Stop calling me, Santa.”
“Dress like a Santa, look like a Santa, you’re the big red guy. Own it.” She snickered.
A sign read Hope Valley Trails ahead. Another read Hope Valley Trailer Park, next right. Steve exhaled with frustration. Where in the heck had the VW disappeared to?
“I don’t see any houses,” Lincoln said from the back seat. “Or Christmas trees.”
“Actually, eyes right. There’s a tree with white lights.” Brie was peering out the passenger seat window. “At the entrance to the trailer park.”
“Did she turn in there?” Steve asked.
“Must have.”
“They live in a trailer?” Lincoln said. “Cool.”
Steve veered right, and in a matter of seconds, saw the VW’s taillights. He followed at a safe distance. When the van came to a stop at a vacant site, he hung back, idling.
Hope parked and popped out of the VW. Deftly, she hooked it up to the park’s shore power connection.
“Aw, crap, the VW is their home?” Steve ran his fingers through his hair. What was he supposed to do or say now? Talk about awkward.
Lincoln said, “I think it’s cool.”
“Stop with the cool,” Steve hissed. “I don’t care what you think.”
“That’s not nice.” Lincoln huffed.
“No it’s not”—Steve parked the car and glanced over his shoulder at his brother—“but right now I need to do the thinking. Not you.” He tapped on the steering wheel, straining his brain trying to come up with the appropriate words.
Nice place, Hope. No way.
Ho, ho, ho, you’re a year-round camper, I see. Uh-uh, hokey.
“Santa!” Brie knuckled his shoulder. “Chill. Get out, knock on the van’s door, and turn on the high-wattage smile. You can sell sawdust to a lumber mill. C’mon. You got this.” She pulled her camera from her tote and waggled it. “If that’s not enough incentive, remember your career depends upon it.”
“Eat dirt,” he growled, as he deliberated. Maybe he should—
“I can do it!” Lincoln bolted out of the car.
“Bro, wait! No!”
––––––––
Hope began setting the table for dinner. Peanut butter sandwiches and a few sticks of raw carrots would have to suffice. She watched her daughter pour water into three glasses. “You were really good today, Melody. Did you have fun?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I think there’s a spring play. Do you want to try out for it?”
Melody hitched her shoulder. “Maybe.”
“What’s the theme?”
“Spring,” Melody said. “Duh.”
“Mom, help!” Todd was trying to get a connection on the computer. “The Wi-Fi isn’t working.”
“Give up then and wash your hands.”
“I want to see Steve Waldren. You promised.”
Hope had prayed Todd had forgotten about that. Shoot. “Don’t worry. If we can’t get online tonight, in the morning we’ll call KPRL, and we’ll ask what happened. Okay?” She scrubbed his hair with her knuckles. “How does that sound?”
“Really? Nah, you won’t call,” he said skeptically.
“Yes, I will. I’ll let you dial.”
By then, Steve will have chosen the other family for the prize. Case closed.
“First thing,” Todd said.
“Yes.”
Hope was sad to disappoint her children—to lie to them—but she had to if she was going to have a shot at rebuilding her business, their lives, their future.
Someone knocked on the van’s door. Hope startled and stared at it. No one had ever visited them. She’d paid her site fee. She moved to the door and said, “Who’s there?”
“Ho, ho, ho. It’s Santa.”
Hope raised an eyebrow. She didn’t recognize the voice. Someone in the trailer park was playing a trick. “Go away!” she shouted.
Todd whooped! “Mom, Mom, it’s him. He’s here. Steve’s here!” He leaped to his feet and flew to the door. “I’d recognize his voice anywhere. He found us.”
Melody followed, as excited as her brother. “Mom, open the door.”
Hope gawked. Who was playing such a dirty trick? Todd was right. Whoever it was had sort of sounded like Steve, but she knew it wasn’t. The timber was off. It wasn’t Zerena or Gabe. No one knew where she lived. Had someone from the café who’d seen her decline the prize followed her to the trailer park? Another thought rippled through her. What if Lincoln had learned she’d turned down the prize? What if he’d convinced his parents to take part in finding her? No. No way. They wouldn’t.
Another knock. Another ho, ho, ho.
And then it dawned on her. Someone at the café must have told Steve about Melody’s play. It was him outside. He must have tailed her from the school. Shoot! Why hadn’t she paid attention?
She listened hard and heard Steve chiding his brother. “Why’d you do that, bro?”
“Ow!” Lincoln cried. Steve must have swatted him.
“I was ready to ditch the idea. Ready to turn around. But you . . . you . . . Dang it.”
“Don’t swear,” Lincoln said.
“Fine,” Steve muttered. “Sorry.” His brother couldn’t handle even moderately bad language. It threw him into a tizzy. “Move. Out of the way. Please.”
Fury rising up her throat, Hope cranked open the door. “What the—”
“Hi, Santa!” Melody chimed, at the door in a flash.
Todd, too. “Hi, Steve. I mean, Santa.”
Steve edged around his brother. “Ho, ho, ho,” he crooned with great bravado.
Brie sidled next to Steve, her camera at the ready.
“Hi, kids.” Steve raised his gloved hands into the air. “Santa—” He halted, peering at Hope and then past her. His eyes widened. He swallowed hard, and his cheeks flushed hot pink.
“Please leave,” Hope said, teeth clenched, his embarrassment becoming hers.
Steve bobbed his head. “Yeah, okay. We’re going. Sorry to have disturbed you. Brie. Lincoln. Turn around. Get back in the car.” He prodded them while continuing to gaze at Hope. “Look, I’m sorry. I thought I was following you to your house. I had no idea you were—”
“Hi, Hope,” Lincoln said, inserting his head between Brie and Steve’s. “We’re on an adventure.”
“Hi, Lincoln,” she said as sweetly as she could muster.
“You live in your car. It’s cool.”
Steve leveled him with a gaze. “It’s not cool, dude.”
“Yes, it is cool,” Hope said in a tempered tone, tamping down all the anger that was welling up inside her. “But it’s not a car, Lincoln. It’s a camper, and it’s hooked up in a trailer park.”
“Cool.”
She directed the next bit at Steve. “FYI, we are not homeless.”
“Wait,” Steve protested. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“We’re not living in a box on a street. This is our home. Not everyone can afford all the amenities of life, which include food, plus wheels, car insurance, health insurance, and you name it. I do the best I can. We’re fine. We’re happy.”
“Got it,” Steve stammered. “We’re leaving. We’re sorry to have disturbed you.”
Brie said, “Hope, you rock.”
Lincoln said, “We came to give you the prize. Steve tried once but you said no, and he wants to try again.”
“Lincoln, stop.” Steve grimaced. “I told you—”
“Again, Mom?” Melody shot a scathing look at her mother. “Lincoln said, ‘Again.’”
Hope sighed. Her daughter was quick on the uptake, she’d give her that.
“Is that true?” Todd asked.
“Uh-huh.” Lincoln pointed from Steve to himself. “My brother tried to give your mom the prize at the café yesterday, but—”
“We won!” Todd grabbed his sister’s hands and jumped up and down. “We really won!”
With all the bouncing, Hope worried the VW’s floor would give way. “Stop!” she shouted. “No jumping. Melody. Todd. Stop!”
They settled down instantly, looking chagrined.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Melody asked, her voice tiny and scared.
“Sit on your bean bags. Both of you.” Hope shot out her arm. “Don’t move.”
They scurried to them and hunkered down.
Hope scowled at Steve—Santa—and shoved him from the door. Lincoln moved backward, too. Brie edged to the right.
Hope stepped outside and slammed the VW’s sliding door. “Steve—”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “It was wrong to come here. Wrong to—”
“I already told you no.”
Steve blanched. “Yes, but I thought I could—”
“No, you didn’t think.”
“I think,” Lincoln said.
Brie knuckled him and said, “Shh.”
Lincoln curled his lips inward and mimed locking a key.
Hope sighed. “Look, Steve, single parents with overwhelming debt are the working poor. As I said a minute ago, we can barely afford things like insurance and medicine, let alone rent. We make choices. This is my choice. And it’s my choice not to take the prize because there are all sorts of extra expenses KPRL hasn’t factored in, as I explained to you.”
“Got it,” Steve said.
Did he really? Maybe he did this time. He seemed to be listening. Processing.
Hope willed the knots in her shoulders to unwind, but they wouldn’t obey. “Please leave.”
“Hi, Hope,” Lincoln said, as if on auto-reset.
She softened. “Hi, Lincoln. Having a good time?”
“I’m with Steve. On an adventure.”
“So you said.”
Steve cut his brother a look—a slightly bewildered but definitely kind look—and turned back to Hope. He seemed flummoxed. Actually, tongue-tied.
Brie said, “Hey, Hope, couldn’t your kids use some sunshine in their—”
“Drab lives?” Hope cut her off.
“I wasn’t going to say that. I . . .” Brie exchanged a horrified look with Steve.
“Listen, Brie,” Hope began, “and you listen too, Lincoln and Steve.”
“Santa,” Steve said with forced joviality that he clearly didn’t feel.
“Santa.” Hope heard the edge in her voice. Santa. As if a benevolent jolly elf had ever existed. She did not believe in the guy, no matter what she’d told her son. Okay, maybe when she was five, she’d believed. But after her parents died and after what Zach did, the blinders had come off, and naive belief vanished. “My kids eat right. They enjoy school. They love sports. Heck, they adore watching you on TV.” She shot a hand in his direction. “You. The Voice. Mr. Statistics. They can rattle them off like you can.”
“Me, too,” Lincoln said over Steve’s shoulder.
Steve said, “Quiet, bro, c’mon.”
Lincoln locked his lips for a second time.
In spite of herself, Hope smiled. Brothers. In a nanosecond, she wiped the smile off her face and continued. “They adore how Hope Valley decorates for Christmas,” she went on. “They love the tree-lighting ceremony. And the gingerbread house event. They do not need a trip to the happiest place on earth to make it better.”
Steve dramatically clapped a hand to his chest. “Santa Claus is going to be crushed if you don’t—”
“No. Stop. No pretending to be Santa Claus. There is no—”
“Mom!” Melody whipped open the door, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Don’t say it out loud. Please.” She hitched her head toward Todd who was dutifully sitting on his bean bag chair. “I might not believe in you-know-who, but he does. Mom, please.”
“You could hear me?” Hope asked.
“Uh, yeah, you were yelling.”
Lincoln wedged past Hope and climbed into the VW. He sat on the floor beside Todd’s bean bag. Seconds later, Todd was showing Lincoln his collection of basketball trading cards.
Steve motioned to the two of them. “Isn’t that sweet?”
Hope folded her arms across her chest and gave him the side eye. “What’s in it for you, Steve? Do you get a bonus if I accept? No, wait. Let me guess. Will you lose your job if you don’t make this deal? Ha! As if.”
Steve blanched, and Hope felt as if she’d struck a nerve. Would he lose his job? No way. He was the Voice. He was an icon.
Regardless, she pressed on. “Maybe you’re the one with a drab life, Steve. Maybe—” Hope shuddered. Had those horrible words actually flown from her mouth? She hadn’t meant to utter them. She wasn’t cruel. Her mother had often cautioned: You can never take words back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. I deserved it. We’re out of here.” Steve turned on his heel. “Brie, Lincoln, let’s go.”
Lincoln gave Todd a fist bump and clambered off the floor. He scooted past Hope. “I like statistics. Steve does, too.”
Hope offered a weak smile. “I know.”
“And I like snickerdoodles and cocoa and—”
“Lincoln!” Steve barked. “Out.”
Lincoln leaped from the VW.
After Hope closed the door, she glanced at her children. The sorrowful, grief-stricken, angry looks on their faces told the whole story. She was a monster. But someone in the family had to be a realist, right? Someone had to plan for the future.
