Chapter 25

If there was such a thing as liquid courage, and if I wasn’t a teetotaler, I’d be chugging the stuff as I sat in Mark’s long driveway looking up at his house. At six, the sun had set already, of course, and there were no streetlamps here, just outside the village. Still the cedar shake shingles and white-shuttered house glowed in the icicle lights dripping from the eaves. A couple of illuminated reindeer stood sentry in the front yard. Huge wreaths hung on the dormer windows. I guess I’d known that Mark owned his own house, but I pictured it more of a bachelor pad of neglect. Nor did I know he had this much holiday spirit, although I found it a pleasant surprise.

When the front door opened and he poked his head outside, I could no longer linger in the car. What was I so nervous about? The date? Or whatever bombshell was about to accompany it?

“You look nice,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. “Maybe a little more put together than this morning.”

“It isn’t every day a girl catches a killer in her pajamas.”

He put his hand up to his face, fingering an imaginary cigar, and in his best Groucho Marx impersonation said, “And how that killer got in my pajamas, I’ll never know.”

That broke the ice, and I found myself comfortable and relaxing. Just before a little blonde girl, maybe about four, came tearing down the hallway.

“Uncle Mark! The chicken dinged. You told me to let you know when it stopped spinning.”

“That I did.” He picked her up. “Hannah, I’d like you to meet someone very important. This is Miss Liz.”

I held out my hand and Hannah pumped it, then we did high fives. She giggled when I reached in and tickled her belly.

Mark set her down and she tore off back into the other room.

He stowed my coat in his hall closet. “My niece will be joining us, it seems.”

“Fine by me,” I said. “Do you need a hand with anything?”

“Nope. Dinner is about ready, although I promised Hannah we could watch Rudolph and Frosty tonight, so I hope you don’t mind eating in front of the television.”

“That,” I said, “is my MO.”

We assembled plates from the buffet at the kitchen island, then carried them and beverages into a cozy family room, warmed from the fireplace and scented with pine from the scraggly Christmas tree decorated with glittery balls and construction paper ornaments. I slid to the floor with my plate on the coffee table, and Mark sat next to me.

Hannah, as I expect most four-year-olds are today, was a pro with the remote, and soon the reindeer games began.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Mark whispered softly. “This might not be the evening you had in mind.”

“If you must know, I adore Rudolph. And Frosty. But be forewarned, I liked to sing along with all the songs. I’ve been on my best behavior so far, but I might just forget myself.”

Hannah looked up. “We always sing along with the songs.”

“I can sing louder,” I said.

“I can sing really loud, too,” Hannah said. And when the next song came on, we all sang as loudly as we could, until we were laughing too hard to keep up with the words.

Mark cleared his throat. “Maybe I should put on some coffee. Or cocoa?” He wagged finger at me. “But it would have to be the instant kind with the desiccated marshmallows. It’s all I got.”

“Cocoa!” Hannah said.

“Sounds good to me.”

Somewhere during Frosty, Mark’s arm snaked around my shoulder and I leaned into his warmth. He shifted away just before the closing credits.

“Can we play a game?” Hannah said. “I have Candy Land.”

“I love Candy Land,” I said.

But Mark looked at his watch. “Sorry, kiddo. It’s time for bed.”

“We’ll play some other time,” I said.

And off she went without much fuss. “Excuse me a moment,” Mark said, and I could hear him step her through her evening routine.

Maybe ten minutes later he rejoined me in the family room.

“So Uncle Mark, huh?” I asked. “Your brother or sister’s kid?”

Mark stared into his cocoa. “My sister’s.”

“She’s adorable. How long is she staying with you?”

He put his cup on the coffee table. “With any luck, until she’s done with college. That’s what I needed to talk about, before things went any further with us. I’m not babysitting. I’m Hannah’s legal guardian.”

I took his hand and he told me about his sister, who’d already been a single parent when she’d received her cancer diagnosis and grim prognosis.

“That must be difficult,” I said.

“I have good support. My mother comes and spends a lot of time here. I have a good daycare center I use during the day, and a woman down the street babysits if I need to go out at night.” He tipped his head. “I ran her background, of course.”

I drained the last of my cocoa and leaned against the sofa.

“Here’s where you say that you’re cool with it and it doesn’t make a difference.”

“But it does make a difference,” I said, then smiled. “I think it’s wonderful.”

The next two hours were spent talking about everything and about nothing, those meaningless but all-important conversations couples have as they’re learning more about each other. There may have been a few cocoa-flavored kisses interwoven with the conversation.

“Another confession,” Mark said, “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”

“So do I,” I admitted.

“I should have made dessert. Let me see if I have any cookies left.” He went and rummaged in the kitchen but came back empty handed. “I also have a little cookie monster in the house.”

“That’s okay. Hey, you know what?” I opened my purse and pulled out the handful of fortune cookies I’d stuck in there after Joan’s book signing. “I came prepared.”

I pushed one of them toward him. “Let’s see what your fortune is going to be.”

He removed the cookie from the clear wrapper then cracked it open and read the paper inside. Even in the dim light, I could see his ears turn red.

“What is it?”

“Liz.” He paused and scratched the back of his head. “I like you very much, but I just don’t think we’re quite there yet. Maybe someday, but—”

I ripped the small fortune from his hand. Now it was my turn to flush, and I couldn’t blame the heat of the fire, which had been reduced to glowing embers.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I got these from an author. I guess she had them made up and used quotes from her book as the fortunes.” I buried my face in my hands. “I didn’t realize. I’m so embarrassed.”

“So this is from a book?” he said.

I nodded, still unable to meet his eyes. “Won Ton Desire. Page ninety-seven.”

*   *   *

“Have you seen my suspenders?” Dad exited his room holding up his Santa pants. “They won’t stay up.”

“It’s all that weight you lost working nonstop,” I said. “You’re the only person I know who could lose weight on the doughnut, coffee, and fast food diet.”

He tugged at the waistband. “They are a bit looser than they were last year.”

“Try the hall closet,” I said. “I think I might have seen them in there.”

“Thanks.”

When he shuffled off, I shook my head at Cathy. “Why is it so much easier for men to lose weight?”

“I wish I knew. I’m still trying to work off that pregnancy weight.”

I tweaked her cheek. “But you make an adorable elf.”

“I don’t understand why Dad made me dress up but you don’t have to,” she said.

I shrugged. “Seniority? Or maybe it’s because you will be retrieving presents for Santa.” I gestured to the fruits of her labor. “Those dolls are gorgeous—and that means a lot coming from me. And I’m sure they’ll get everyone excited about the program for next year.”

Cathy crossed her fingers. “I hope so. You don’t think giving the first of the dolls to the children of police officers is a bit self-serving, considering that one of Lori’s fundraising ideas is—”

“Shh!” I put my finger to my lips as Dad came back with his suspenders.

“What?” Dad said.

“We were just talking about giving the dolls to the children,” I said. “I think it’s a great idea. Not many people realize how stressful growing up in a cop’s home can be.”

Dad kissed me on the cheek. “The kids do make a sacrifice. Liz, I’m sorry if … I’m sorry that I wasn’t always …”

I stopped him with a hug and Cathy joined in.

When we arrived downstairs, Amanda was already arranging napkins on the food tables. Kohl sat in a nearby chair, drawing in his notebook.

I looked at the spread. “Everything looks lovely.”

“We’re still short cookies,” she said.

“They should be on their way,” I said. “We had plenty of volunteers.”

“Great!” Then she cast a worried look in Kohl’s direction. “Liz, Kohl really wanted to come to the party tonight, but he can sometimes get a little over stimulated with all the noise.”

“Do you need to leave? I’m sure we can cover.”

“No, at least not yet. In fact, Jack is coming and he could help keep an eye on him, but if we need to get him away from the party for a bit …”

“He’s great with Kohl,” I said. “It’s fun to watch them together.”

“They adore each other,” Amanda said. “It’s going to make the next year a lot easier.” She reached up to a chain around her neck and pulled out what I first thought was a necklace, but a moment later realized was an engagement ring on a chain. She put a finger quickly to her lips. “We want to let the families know over the holiday, so we’re keeping it a secret. But you’re family, at least as far as I’m concerned.”

I reached in to hug her. “Congratulations,” I whispered. “And the apartment’s unlocked if you need a quiet place for Kohl,” I said. “Maybe a bit of a mess because we were all getting ready up there, and I think Cathy’s wearing enough glitter to keep Martha Stewart busy for a month.” I pointed to the trail on the floor.

Amanda winced. “We’re going to be finding that years from now.”

As she turned away to her work, I found a tear growing in the corner of my eye. Not that I was weeping over the prospect of persistent glitter, but there was something hopeful and comforting about thinking about being in the same place, doing the same thing, with these same people years from now.

I was home. And there was truly no place like it.

When I looked up, Irene and Lenora were tapping on the front door and I went to unlock it. I had to push past Dad’s inflatable toy soldier. He was still sporting a patch on his leg from a violent encounter a couple of years earlier. At first, we’d considered throwing him away, that maybe he was too much of a reminder of a tragedy that occurred in our shop, but I’m glad we hadn’t. Now, every year at Christmas, he stands sentry, his smile just as bright and undimmed. He’s become a testimony to resilience.

“I know we’re a little early,” Irene said. “But we thought you’d want the cookies ahead of time.”

I took the package from her arms. “Come on in and warm up,” I said. “The coffee’s hot and we have cocoa. Or punch if you’d rather.”

“Children’s punch or big-people’s punch?” Lenora asked.

“It’s yummy,” I said. “But suitable for children—and let’s keep it that way, okay?”

As they made their way to the beverage table, I handed over the cookies to Amanda, who was ready to arrange them on a waiting platter.

Lori Briggs came rushing in with Glenda trailing behind her.

“You’re both here early,” I said.

“I need to get set up,” Lori said, pulling out a camera. “I want to get lots of pictures of happy little girls. I think it would be a great way to drum up support for the program, especially if we launch into phase two of the fundraising.”

“Phase two?” Glenda asked.

I looked around to make sure my father wasn’t in earshot. I nodded to give Lori the go-ahead.

She leaned in close to Glenda. “We want to do a police calendar.”

“The police department already does a calendar,” Glenda said. “A little magnet thing. I have one on my fridge.”

“No,” Lori said. “This would be a different kind of calendar.”

Glenda grabbed her arm. “With naughty pictures?”

“Not naughty exactly,” Lori said, taking her arm. “But definitely casting the boys and girls in blue in the best possible light.” She winked. “Drool-worthy. And the more pleased they are with tonight, the greater chance we get the green light for the project.”

“And the more likely we are to get volunteers,” I said, “when we show them pictures of their own kids having fun.”

“Too bad we couldn’t get Ken Young to pose,” Lori said. “Say what you want about him, he was quite a looker. I, uh, saw that his house is up for sale.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. There’s not much left here for him,” I said, then looked again in Dad’s direction. With any luck, he’d need help. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get in a long conversation about Ken Young with anybody. Not quite yet.

Glenda followed my gaze to where my father was setting up the Santa throne. “And you don’t want Hank to know about the calendar because, what? Think he’ll disapprove?”

“No,” I said, “but it’s …” I looked to Lori to finish.

She leaned closer to Glenda. “We kind of wanted him to be in it. He’d be very popular among some of our senior ladies. Liz thought he’d be more likely to participate if we didn’t spring it on him until he knew other people were already involved.”

“Hank McCall, centerfold,” Glenda said. “I’d buy that.”

I excused myself—another awkward subject for me—and turned on some cheerful holiday music.

Jack arrived, and not empty-handed, either. He carried in several boxes of munchies from the restaurant. Amanda had to scramble to find room for them on the overloaded table.

Parker carried Drew in, all bundled up in his snowsuit. He even cracked a drooly smile when he saw his mother. How he could recognize her with the elf ears and the face glitter, I didn’t know. Smart boy.

A few of the officers and their families wandered in next. Those who had never been in the store meandered the aisles before letting their sons and daughters find a space on the rug by the tree.

Reynolds walked in with the mayor, and Dad rushed up to greet them. He pulled down his Santa beard. “Congratulations,” he said to Howard, shaking his hand. “I heard it became official.”

“Thanks,” Reynolds said. “Your confidence means a lot to me.”

Behind them was Mark Baker, hand-in-hand with Hannah who was all decked out in a little red coat with a white fur collar.

“Uh-oh, better behave,” Reynolds said. “The Feds are here.”

“Well, one Fed accountant, and I’m off duty,” Mark said, shaking Reynolds’s hand. Then he made a beeline for me and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for including us. Hannah’s been talking about nothing else all day.”

That’s all he got to say before she grabbed him by the arm and tried to drag him toward the dolls displayed on the front table, along with a small collection of games and other toys, for children who might not be into dolls. Or who, like me, found them a little bit creepy, even when they didn’t seemingly move on their own.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I called after him.

“You can count on it,” he said.

With a flicker of the lights and a brief ching-a-ling, Santa stood up to give a brief speech.

“Thank you all for coming, and a special thanks to my main elves here. Cathy had half of a great idea when she decided she wanted to rehab old dolls and get them in the hands of children. And Liz—who’s out of her elf costume, but she is a Claus, a subordinate Claus.”

A couple of groans ensued.

“Although I should call her ‘Iz,’ today. You know why?”

“Why?” one of the kids asked.

“Because no L. Noel?”

The kids, who hadn’t heard it before, laughed. The adults just shook their heads.

“Anyway,” Dad continued, “she thought that the children of our bravest and finest deserve a little something special, so we have a gift for each child here today. And a picture with Santa, of course.”

Lori waved her camera.

“I see Mrs. Briggs brought her North Polaroid.”

After a few more groans, the children started lining up. Except for one little girl, who started crying immediately after being placed on Santa’s lap. Dad took it well, teasing that she must be Claus-trophobic.

When Hannah’s turn came, she marched right up and took her spot, turning to the camera with a cheesy smile, dimples and all.

Mark stole up next to me. “Your dad is great at this.”

I shushed him, trying to hear what Hannah was saying.

“I know who you are,” she said.

Dad leaned closer to her, the twinkle in his eye never brighter than as he cradled the little girl on his lap. “I’m Santa. Santa Claus.”

Hannah nodded. “And you know who else you are?”

“No, tell me.”

“Uncle Mark said that if he plays his cards right, you could be my new grandpa!” she said in a loud whisper.

Mark studied the floor, and his ears turned that signature red.

I pulled him aside. “Uncle Mark said that, did he?”

“Uncle Mark might have said that,” he said, backing away from me.

“Well, I’m not quite sure we’re ready for that discussion, but …” I waited until he realized he had no more ground, his back up against the display case of our oldest tin toys. And then I kissed him.