It was the final straw. Leaping from her chair, she grabbed the squirming child by the arm and hauled him off the platform in front of the waiting customers. Unfortunately his mother arrived on the scene just then, demanding to know why Mrs. Claus was beating up her child.
“He was beating up the reindeer,” Sherrie hotly protested. “I was simply removing him from the area.”
“Well, you don’t remove my child from anywhere,” the mother yelled, her voice rising above her son’s screams. “That’s my job.” She was a big woman, and looked as if she could flatten an elephant with one blow.
Sherrie opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again as a deep voice inquired, “What’s going on here?”
Sherrie’s heart sank as she met the disapproval in Matthew Blanchard’s ice blue eyes. She began to explain, but the customer forestalled her.
“I am never,” she said, pronouncing the word in a voice of doom, “ever setting foot in this store again.” She looked around at the line of interested spectators. “If I were you,” she added meaningfully, “I’d get out of this store before they all start beating up on your kids.”
“Madam—” Matt began, but she cut him off.
Grabbing her son by the hand, she said loudly, “Come on, Henry. We’ll find a store where kids are welcome.” She glared at Sherrie as she passed. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she snarled. “Posing as Mrs. Claus and then picking on little kids. You should be reported.”
Sherrie managed to hold her tongue as the woman led the screaming child away. She flicked a quick glance at Matt, who was addressing the crowd in a calm, quiet tone of reassurance.
“I apologize for this small misunderstanding,” he announced. “To make up for the unpleasantness, I’ll see that every child in the store gets a free balloon and a candy cane.”
He signaled to one of the floorwalkers, a pleasant young man dressed in a red vest and bow tie. “Follow this gentleman,” Matt announced, “and he’ll hand out the gifts. Meanwhile, Mrs. Claus will take a short break. She’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
Sherrie felt a quiver in the region of her stomach. She followed Matt as he threaded his way through the crowd, and rehearsed her defense. He said nothing as led her into his office, but seated himself at his desk and waited for her to stand in front of him.
She felt a spark of resentment when she saw the reprimand in his expression. He was beginning to make her feel like a second-grader hauled up in front of the principal.
“Perhaps, Miss Latimer,” he said, his voice heavy with exasperation, “you would be kind enough to explain why you felt it necessary to manhandle one of my valued customers?”
Sherrie lifted her chin. “That valued customer was about to demolish Donna. I felt it necessary to remove the child from the platform to prevent serious damage to the merchandise.”
He stared at her for so long she wondered if he’d understood what she’d said. Finally he cleared his throat. “I’m almost afraid to ask,” he said, clasping his hands as if in prayer, “but who the devil is Donna?”
“Blitzen’s partner, of course.”
He looked at her blankly.
“You know,” Sherrie said, allowing a tiny note of impatience to enter her voice. “Donna and Blitzen. Santa’s reindeer?”
He still looked at her as if she’d suddenly appeared from outer space.
She placed her hands on the desk, leaned forward and pronounced each word as if she were translating a foreign language. “You have two reindeer in your Christmas display. I call them Donna and Blitzen. Had I not removed that brat from the platform, Blitzen would have been looking for a new mate.”
A look of apprehension slowly dawned on Matt’s face. “I see,” he said weakly.
Sensing that she was getting through to him at last, she straightened up. “I didn’t hurt the child. He was out of control, and upsetting the other children. I did what I thought was necessary to restore the peace.”
Matt nodded. “I sympathize with your predicament, Miss Latimer. It might have been more prudent, however, to have let the child’s mother deal with him.”
“The child’s mother,” Sherrie said grimly, “was nowhere to be found. If she can’t be bothered to discipline the child, she must learn to accept the consequences. In my opinion, women like that shouldn’t have children if they can’t accept the responsibility.”
She got the feeling she might have said too much as Matt’s face darkened. “That’s beside the point. We have to remember that our customers are the reason we are in business. Without them, we would not have a Blanchard’s Department Store.”
“Yes, but—”
“In situations like this,” Matt went on firmly, “we must hold on to our temper and do our utmost to soothe ruffled feathers. Throwing the child off the platform was not the best way to handle things, no matter how much he might have deserved it. I must ask you to use more restraint in the future, if you want to keep your job.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him where to stuff his job. “I was hired to talk to the children and listen to their Christmas wishes,” she said stiffly. “I did not expect to act as nursemaid, baby-sitter or disciplinarian, nor did I expect to be subjected to harassment, ridicule or abuse, all of which has been directed at me in the past two days.”
Matt sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “I had an idea the job might be too much for you. If you remember, I did warn you that it was a tough job for a woman. Perhaps I could rustle up a couple of elves to help out.”
“In my opinion, Mr. Blanchard, this would be a tough job for that marine sergeant you were looking for.” She puffed out her breath. She had promised Tom she would do this job. She would do her best to see it through for his sake, certainly not for the stuffed shirt who sat glowering at her across his too-tidy desk.
Softening her tone with difficulty, she added, “That doesn’t mean I can’t handle it. There’s no need to hire elves. I apologize for losing my patience. I can assure you, it won’t happen again.”
She waited while he sat in silence, apparently torn by indecision. Miserably she wondered how she was going to explain to Tom that she botched the job after less than two days.
She jumped when Matthew Blanchard suddenly looked up. His eyes looked very blue, and very direct. “Miss Latimer,” he said quietly, “everyone around here calls me Matt. I would appreciate it if you would do the same.”
She could feel tiny ripples of awareness course down her back. For some reason she really wished she was wearing something other than the frumpy Mrs. Claus costume. She had the distinct feeling that when she spoke, her voice would sound about an octave too high. “Does that mean I’m still Mrs. Claus?”
Matt sighed, as if he had just made an earth-shattering decision. “If you’re really sure you want to be harassed and abused for the next month, the job is still yours.”
He didn’t have to sound quite so enthusiastic about it, Sherrie thought gloomily. If he knew how tough it had been for her to step down and apologize, he wouldn’t be nearly so condescending. “I’ll manage,” she said, her voice deceptively meek. “Thank you, Mr. Blanchard.”
“Matt,” he reminded her.
Again she felt the shiver of pleasure down her spine. How, she wondered, could he possibly have this effect on her, when she found him so infuriating?
“I think I’d find it easier to call you Matt,” she said carefully, “if you’d stop calling me Miss Latimer.”
He didn’t quite smile, but she had the feeling that one lurked behind the firm line of his mouth. The