“The kids loved them, as always. At first, Dillon acted like the kids might bite, but he eventually settled down.” Becky took Chris’s arm and led him toward a quiet corner. Marissa followed. “So, Chris, we’re going to need a Santa for a party Tuesday afternoon, and for several other appearances between now and Christmas. It’s a paying gig, and there’s no snow to plow in the forecast anytime soon. What do you say?”
“No.” Marissa stepped between them. “We’ll find someone else. Chris is busy.”
Ten years ago she’d dumped him, and now she thought she could speak for him? Not likely. But why did they need him? Chris frowned. “Won’t Oliver be better by then?”
Becky shook her head. “Oliver’s quite ill. It’s his heart.”
Oliver had a bad heart? He seemed so healthy. Granted, he carried a few extra pounds thanks to Becky’s cooking, but he was strong, tossing around fifty-pound feed sacks with ease. “I’m so sorry. If it—”
“We’ll be fine.” Marissa locked eyes with him. “We appreciate the help, but you’ve done enough.”
Chris’s gaze shifted from Marissa’s glare to the hopeful glint in Becky’s eyes. He ignored Marissa and smiled at her aunt. “Of course. I’d be happy to help. Let’s go find my phone and I’ll put in the dates.”
He left Marissa standing there with steam coming out from under her elf hat. So she didn’t want him around—tough cookies. He wasn’t so keen on spending time with her, either, but Becky and Oliver needed his help. Marissa was just going to have to grow up and think about someone besides herself for a change.
That alone was worth the price of a few dozen candy canes.
Twenty-two days till Christmas
THE BUZZING FLUORESCENT bulb in Chris’s warehouse office seemed to hit the resonant frequency inside his skull. He massaged his temples while he waited for his password to reveal the balance of his checking account. Sadly, the figure was exactly what he expected. He’d have to transfer more money out of his boat fund to cover payroll.
After years of working on someone else’s boat, socking away his earnings from his share of the catch, he’d almost reached his goal of owning his own fishing boat. In fact, he’d come close to buying one in September, even going so far as to sell his one indulgence, his red convertible. At the last minute, the boat owner had changed his mind about selling. Just as well, because the money from Chris’s car had been keeping the plowing business afloat. Who knew this would be the winter of no snow?
He was down to two employees; the previous year he’d had ten. He couldn’t cut his last two guys. They’d both been with him almost from the beginning. Besides, he was under contract to clear parking lots for several businesses, and if the weather ever turned, he’d need them. And he sure wasn’t about to let anybody go this close to Christmas.
He got up from the desk and stared into the warehouse. Six trucks sat idle. He’d started with one pickup and a plow, clearing driveways, a few months after he and Marissa began dating. Before that, he’d fished in the summer and spent the winters skiing and riding his snow machine, but being with Marissa had made him think of things like down payments and IRAs. Besides, Marissa was uncomfortable with a high play/work ratio, and at that time he’d been willing to jump through fire if it meant she’d stick around.
Marissa was a grad student then, going to school in Fairbanks while Chris got this business off the ground in Anchorage. Their relationship consisted of snatched weekends and holidays, interludes of sweetness that always left him wishing for more. Maybe if they’d lived in the same town he’d have realized before he asked her to marry him just how unsuited they really were. After all, she had a master’s degree in wildlife biology; he was a college dropout who fished and plowed snow. Although her parents had died when she was small, Marissa grew up as part of a loving family. Chris was lucky to get the occasional pat on the head from his father, and his mom hardly noticed him. But he and Marissa were happy together, and their differences didn’t seem to matter. Until they did.
What was she doing back in Alaska? Was something going on with Oliver and Becky? Marissa had said she was between jobs, but knowing her work ethic, it was unlikely she would leave one position before she’d lined up another. Before she’d even finished her degree, she’d landed several job offers from all over the country. Hard to imagine an experienced wildlife biologist would resort to working as an elf, even if it was the family business.
Of course, he’d resorted to a job as Santa Claus. It was mostly as a favor to Becky, but looking at the weather forecast, he figured a little extra income wouldn’t hurt.
Chris sighed and returned to his desk. He transferred the money into the checking account and printed the payroll checks. They were sliding out of the printer when the office door opened.
“Hey, we got all the plows waxed.” Brad, his most senior employee, sauntered in. “Kenny’s putting the stuff away.”
“Good. Thanks.” All the equipment had been waxed back in May before it went into storage, but since he was paying the guys, he might as well give them something to do. “Hang on a minute. I have your check ready.” Chris signed it, then handed it to him. “Don’t cash it until tomorrow, though. I just put in a transfer but it won’t go through until tonight.”
“No problem.” Brad tucked the check into his wallet and looked up at the ceiling. “That bulb is flickering.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Want me to change it for you?”
“Sure—” Chris stood and stretched “—but do it tomorrow. No need to stick around any longer today.”
Brad shifted his weight to his other foot. “Actually, I might not come in tomorrow.”
Chris looked at him. “Why not? You getting sick?”
“My brother-in-law has this business going, hanging Christmas lights. He wants me to run the cherry picker. And I figured since you don’t really need me around here anyway...”
“I don’t care if you take some time, but you are coming back, right?”
“Well, sure. I’ll be back after Christmas.”
“Okay.” Chris shook his hand. “Sorry I can’t do a Christmas bonus this year.”
Brad shrugged. “Weather’s a killer. Merry Christmas, dude.”
Chris laughed. “Yeah. Merry Christmas.” He watched Brad walk away before grabbing Kenny’s check and flipping off the office lights. He’d replace that bulb tomorrow. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.
* * *
MARISSA TOSSED A bale of hay onto the rack. The reindeer crowded past her to the food, two yearling bulls tossing their short antlers with the kind of attitude usually seen on high school basketball courts. The older bull, Blizzard, had already shed his impressive antlers, but the cows would hold on to theirs for another few months.
One of the cows, Snowflake, stopped to nuzzle Marissa’s hand. She still remembered. Marissa pulled out a piece of carrot she’d hidden in her pocket just for the old girl, a tradition of theirs since Snowflake was a calf. In fact, Marissa had been there at her birth. Hard to believe it was almost twelve years ago. Chris had been there, too. He’d come by to take her out to dinner when Oliver announced Muff was about to give birth. Neither of them could bear to leave until Snowflake had arrived and was on her feet and nursing.
Many of the reindeer pulling hay from the feeder had been born since the last time Marissa visited Alaska. She’d been away too long. Becky took good care of the animals, but the farm, always so crisp and kempt, showed signs of neglect. Rusty hinges, broken boards, peeling