
“Come on, daddy. We’re ‘sposed to watch the Nutcracker. With real ballet dancers. Hurry! Miss Sophie doesn’t want us to be late.” Darby yanked on his hand.
Sam watched Sophie greeting each child, getting down to their eye level. That smile. The smiles she brought to others. In this one thing, his dad was right. He’d do whatever it took to look at that smile every single day.
“Hey man, could you give me a hand today?” Justin approached Sam, Micah’s hand in his. “I need help setting up the ball for tonight.”
“Sure. Of course.” The ball. Sam swallowed. He should text Sophie and ask. Or he could just wait until he picked Darby up after activities. Besides, a text might trigger her. Nope.
He couldn’t chicken out altogether like he’d done on the way home from the hospital. His hands were starting to sweat just thinking about it. Besides, she was just going to leave for Europe. Why hope?
Sam followed Justin to the ballroom. Decorations were already hung— swags of garland, glitter balls hanging from the ceiling. Mistletoe. Yeah, about that. The memory flooded in— kissing her the night he had proposed. Soft lips. His hands in her red hair.
“Dude! You okay? You look like you’re frozen.” Pink stained Sam’s angled cheeks. Justin laughed and slapped Sam on the back.
“Uh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Give me a hand here with the sound system.” Justin handed Sam a cable and a mic.
“Can you attach it to the mic? I’ll hook up the other end. Any requests for songs on the karaoke playlist?”
Sam’s eyes scanned the room. The decorations. There was no hesitation—his mind travel back to a memory he hadn’t visited in so long it resembled a dream— frequent karaoke nights with Sophie. And that one song in particular. . .
If he had any chance at all to pull off winning her back, that was it.

* * *
Sam took measured steps down the hall to the activity room. He should tell Darby to relay the message that he wants her to go with him to the ball. Nahh. That would be pretty chicken, even though he knew Darby would jump up and down at the opportunity. He stopped and leaned against the wall and adjusted his beanie. What was wrong with him? He was a grown man for pity’s sake. It was just a dance.
But no, it was more than a dance. It was a chance to redeem himself. To tell her he loved her. To let her know he never wanted anything to come between them again. But what about the international job? How would that work?
Darby flung open the door and came running to him, nearly knocking him down with her exuberant hug. “Did you have fun today with Miss Sophie?”
“Yeah, we made pretty glass ornaments!”
“I can’t wait to see yours.”
“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him to the door. “They’re in the room.”
Sam entered the room and looked around for Sophie. The room was dark, the lights turned off. So much for asking her out.
“Here’s my ornament. Miss Sophie said you need to take it for me. It’s very fragile.”
“Where is Miss Sophie, anyway?”
Darby shrugged and handed him the ornament, glittery fingernail polish adorning her little fingers. “Can we put it on the big tree in the lounge?”
“Sure baby.” Sam breathed out his anxiety.
Darby skipped over to the tree, the lights twinkling and shining against the silver stars and other ornaments. As Darby pulled it out of the bag, it slid from her fingers and crashed onto the tile floor.
“No!” A loud wail pierced the air. “Miss Sophie said I was s’post to be careful.” Big tears ran down her rosy cheeks.
Sam knelt to her level, placed his large hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Listen, it was pretty. And you did a really nice job on it. But sometimes just making things is what’s fun.”
“You don’t understand, daddy. If I’m not good, Santa isn’t going to bring me any presents.” She let out a big hiccuping sob. Sam patted her on the back.
“Come on. We’ll get some paper and write him a letter. You can explain. I’m sure he’ll be okay with that.” He wiped her tears with his thumb.
Sam got a piece of paper and envelope from the check-in clerk and handed it to Darby. “Let’s get some cocoa and you can write your letter up in our room.”
Sam soon got her settled with a pen and some colored pencils. She snuggled Chester on her lap, asking him how to spell Santa and saying each letter as she tried to sound it out.
Sam needed to shower before he got dressed up. He let the hot water run down his head and back, washing away the tension. He’d blown asking Sophie. Maybe he should just skip asking her. See if she showed up on her own. Then ask her to dance. Tell her he loved her. Sweep her off her feet. . .
He toweled off and pulled on his slacks. “All done with your letter?”
“Yeah. I hope I wrote everything right.” Sam read it.
Dear Santa
I m sory I brok the ornment. I hop ur not mad. Cuz daddy needs to get Miss Sophie for Christmas
Luv Darby
Sam swallowed. Hard. He couldn’t let this little girl down.
“Go get your pretty dress so you can be ready for the ball. Then we’ll mail your letter. I saw a Santa mailbox out by the reindeer coral.”
“Can Chester come too? He’s never been to a dance before.”
“I don’t see why not.” Sam smiled. He put on a white button-down shirt and wrestled with his tie. Suits and ties were not in his comfort zone. But a guy’s gotta do whatever it takes. Would she even show up? A jolt of anxiety hit his stomach.
“Okay doll. Let me run a brush through your hair and let’s go.” Darby handed him a barrette with a ribbon attached. He took hold of her hand. “Who put nail polish on you?”
“Miss Sophie. She said I should look pretty for the dance.”
“Well, you look gorgeous.”
“You look gorgeous too.” She took his hand and hugged Chester to her chest.

* * *
As they walked down the hall, the mixed aromas of barbecued chicken, pastas and baked potatoes wafted towards them.
“I’m hungry. Can we eat first?”
“Uh. Sure. Yeah. We better do that.” What kind of dad doesn’t remember to feed his daughter dinner?
Sam filled her plate with macaroni and cheese, the sauce creamy and gooey. “Be careful with it. You don’t want to ruin your pretty dress.”
He looked around the dining hall. No sign of Sophie. His nerves tingled through him. He wanted to see her. Ask her if she was going. He didn’t want to see her. What if he was dressed up and she said she wasn’t? It would be all for nothing.
Sam gave Darby a napkin to wipe her mouth and they bussed their dishes.
The reindeer were smaller than he remembered them. Their large black eyes occasionally looked at them between grazing. Their antlers were like velvet. Sophie began to climb the fence.
Sam lifted her down. “Don’t want to ruin your princess dress, Doo. Let’s go mail your letter. I can hear the music starting to play.”
Sam gave Darby the letter and lifted her as she slid it through the opening. “There.” She brushed her hands together. Being a dad had huge responsibilities. Was he right in letting her believe that Santa would grant her wish? That somehow her mistakes could keep her from her dreams?
“I has to go to the bathroom.” Sam took her to the guest ladies’ room and waited outside, hoping to get a glimpse of a red headed beauty. Maybe he should text Sophie and see if she’s coming. He pulled out his phone and stared at it. Then returned it to his pocket.
Darby shoved the door open. Her eyebrows were pulled into a frown. “I can’t find Chester.”
“Did you leave him in the bathroom?”
“No, he’s not there.”
“Did you even bring him?”
“Yes. Of course, I brought him. What do you think, daddy?”
“Maybe you left him at dinner. Let’s go check there.” They retraced their steps, but the little raccoon wasn’t there.
“Let’s just go to the dance and we can look for him later.” Darby pulled away, put her hands on her hips and scowled.
“I can’t just leave him somewhere. He’ll be lonely. And if I left him outside he would freeze to death. We has to find him now!” Sam whooshed a sigh.
“Okay.” Sam drew out the word and placed his palm on his forehead. Where else should they look?
They trudged back outside. He stopped by the mailbox and looked around. No sign of a little raccoon. They retraced their steps to the reindeer. Nothing.
Tears trickled down her face. Sam picked her up and hugged her, certain drool and snot would be rubbed into his jacket.
He carried her inside, sat down on the bench in the lobby and held her.