Curt's Jeep was parked at the curb, so I left Maizy to snap a photo of the bucks with her cell phone while I knocked on his back door. He opened it wearing standard male snow hunk attire—faded blue jeans, hiking boots, and a black Under Armour shirt that molded to his body like hot wax and made me forget why I was there.
He looked over my shoulder. "Hey, Jame. Been keeping the kid busy?"
I snapped out of my lust-induced haze. "I like her. She's a smart girl."
"She's an alien."
That's what I thought. "What'd you get her for Christmas?" I asked.
He frowned at me. "I got her a sweater. One that covers her stomach."
Oh, boy. "You might want to rethink that," I told him. "Leave that sort of thing to her parents. Get her something fun."
"Like what? A car?" He snorted.
"Give it some thought," I said. "You might know her better than you think you do."
"Yeah. Maybe." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "So what broke?"
"Huh?"
"Two times I know you're gonna knock on my door. One is when something breaks. Another is when you're hungry." His eyes narrowed. "Are you hungry?"
I shook my head. "I need a favor." I found the piece of paper with Algae's license plate number on it. "Can you get me an address?"
He took it from me. "Why?"
"Long story." I heard Maizy come up behind me. "But it's important," I added.
He nodded at her. "Maizy."
She blew some blue hair out of her eyes. "Uncle Curt."
"Why don't you give each other a hug?" I suggested. They both looked at me like my head had burst into flames. I waved it away. "Forget it. Now's not the time. So can you call Cam for me?"
"Why not. Time for a progress report on Maizy anyway." He showed us a dimple. "You two staying out of trouble?"
"We're going shopping," I said.
"We're looking for Santa Claus," Maizy said at the same time.
His jaw tightened. "You don't like shopping," he told me. "And you don't believe in Santa Claus," he told Maizy.
"That doesn't mean he isn't real," she said. "There are lots of things that exist beyond the veil."
"Beyond the veil," he repeated.
She nodded. "The metaphysical universe. Open your mind, Uncle Curt."
"Fine." He shook the paper at me. "You go find Santa Claus. You think he's at the mall, do you?"
"No, we think he's at—" Maizy began.
I gave her a push to shut her up. "It's a good place to start," I said brightly.
* * *
"Why didn't you want to tell Uncle Curt about the North Pole?" Maizy asked when we were in the car. I was back in the passenger seat and much more comfortable this time, since I'd seen what she could do behind the wheel. She was Jimmie Johnson to my Jed Clampett.
"Are you kidding?" I asked. "You want to tell him I'm taking you to a bar at your age?"
"Yeah, he is a straight line kind of guy, isn't he." She handed over her cell phone. "Is this good enough?"
Her photo of the bucks was clear and centered and shot from surprisingly close range. "Did you go into Jack's yard to take this?"
She shrugged. "They didn't seem to mind, and I figured closer was better."
We drove through a few green lights and stopped at a few red, and then we were on the straight shot to the North Pole.
"Can I ask you something?" I said. "What you said to—about Pete, and Jack, and…Santa. Do you really believe it?"
She glanced at me. "When the universe aligns, I go with it."
Right. "Is the universe aligning?"
"Do you think it's aligning?"
I rolled my eyes. "You'd be a great lawyer."
"I know what I think," she said. "But you don't need to know that. You need to know what you think."
I didn't know what I thought. Or maybe I did, but I didn't want to admit it. We had an awful lot of coincidences on our hands. We had three reindeer and a mind-reading elf whose missing father looked like Santa Claus and had somewhere important to be on Christmas Eve, and that missing father had a toy workshop in his basement and was gone during the holidays every year, not to mention a little green man named Algae who may or may not have stolen a car driven by someone who may or may not be Santa Claus.
I blew out a long breath. What I lacked in holiday spirit, I made up for in skepticism. But even I had to admit that one thing was becoming crystal clear. "What I think," I said slowly, "is that my neighbor Jack is Santa Claus."
"There." She beamed at me. "Was that so hard? You old people with your rigid linear thinking. See what happens when you let go and just have a little faith?"
I nodded. "You get put on Prozac."