Becky and Oliver were her rocks. After the fiasco with Jason and all the nasty accusations launched in her direction, it made all the difference to know there were two people in the world she could count on to believe in her no matter what. People who knew she would never embezzle money, never lie to donors and never be involved with a man who did. At least not knowingly.
Jason. Who would have thought he was capable of something like this? His philanthropic efforts had established the research center she’d worked for in Louisiana, or rather had worked for until they were forced to shut down. They were studying the recovery of a riparian ecosystem once devastated by a chemical spill, but steadily recovering. She and the other two scientists at the River Foundation were documenting the recovery, observing how the various building blocks of the ecosystem linked together. The information they’d gathered would help others trying to reestablish similar ecosystems.
But it turned out Jason was using the River Foundation as a front, part of the elaborate Ponzi scheme he’d engineered. He’d convinced hundreds of people to invest with his company, or to donate to the River Foundation. They all trusted him, and why not? Who wouldn’t trust someone so friendly, and generous, and full of confidence? Which was probably why they called such types confidence men.
When Marissa first started at the center, a rumor had been circulating that Jason was getting divorced. Everyone worried that it might affect their funding if he lost too much in a divorce settlement, but it didn’t seem to. Marissa had been with the center for almost a year when Jason invited her to attend a fund-raiser with him. She’d asked if he wanted her to speak about their research, but no. He had a short Powerpoint presentation, but mostly he just wanted her there, on his arm. He’d explained that people didn’t respond to lectures. What he wanted was her enthusiasm for the project. He said if Marissa chatted with potential supporters one-on-one, they’d line up to donate. He was right.
The evening was a huge success. They began dating, and Marissa threw her considerable organizational talent into fund-raising for the River Foundation. Jason seemed so interested, so sincere, that she believed he truly cared for both her and the research center. But it was all an act. Even the divorce was a ruse to hide money. At least it looked that way, since nobody could seem to find Jason’s ex-wife, either. It caused a knot in Marissa’s stomach whenever she thought of the people who had donated money to her efforts, only to have it disappear along with any sign of Jason. No wonder they hated her.
Threatening letters arrived at the center from donors accusing her of stealing their money, of knowing where Jason was hiding. The investigators were watching her passport even now, waiting for her to make a move to some Caribbean island without an extradition treaty. She’d had to get permission from federal agents to fly home to Alaska.
If only she did know Jason’s whereabouts. She’d turn him in so fast he’d get whiplash. With any luck, he’d spend the rest of his life locked away where he could never betray honest people again. She would like to see him just one more time, though, to tell him exactly what she thought of him. The stories of older people losing their retirement savings, of a young couple forced to give up their home, sickened her. And it was all because of Jason.
She dabbed at her eyes with a paper napkin and washed her hands before setting three oatmeal cookies on one of Becky’s reindeer plates.
Her memories of her parents were vague, only bits and pieces before they’d died and she’d come to live in Alaska. They’d loved her; that she knew. But they were gone. Becky and Oliver were the people in her life whose love was unconditional and constant. And now there was a chance she could lose Oliver. She’d known his condition was bad, had seen how weak he’d become, and yet she’d refused to believe he could die. But it was time to be a grown-up and face facts. She might lose him. And all she could do in the meantime was cherish the time they did have together.
She’d been a lucky little girl. After her parents died, she could have ended up with someone who only tolerated her. Instead, her aunt and uncle were thrilled to bring her home, as though she was a special gift. Despite having no children of their own, they’d quit their jobs and started a successful reindeer farm to provide a magical Christmas experience for other people’s kids. And Marissa landed right in the middle of the magic.
Knowing it was Oliver playing Santa didn’t diminish the experience at all. Just the opposite. She got to grow up on the farm with the jolly old elf, his lovable wife and his magical reindeer the whole year round.
Marissa pasted a smile on her face and picked up the plate. Santa Claus needed his cookie.
Twenty-one days till Christmas
“...AND A NINJA SWORD, and books, and a puzzle.”
Chris glanced over to make sure the parents were able to hear the conversation. They smiled and nodded, so apparently there were no surprises.
He reached into the bowl beside his chair. “Got it. Have a merry Christmas, Sean. Here’s a candy cane.”
Today, they were working a party for a large group of homeschoolers and their parents at the community center. Chris was starting to get the hang of this Santa thing. Kids were just people, but without the filters. They were noisier and messier, but also more spontaneous and joyful. And they believed in magic, some more than others. But whether they were skeptics or true believers, they knew Christmas was special. And he got to be the spirit of Christmas. How cool was that?
Of course, a two-minute conversation with a kid who believed you had the power to make their dreams come true was a far cry from actual parenting. Even his own father used to feign interest in Chris’s activities every once in a while. How did parents do this? A couple hours of holding the kids on his lap and talking to them left Chris as tired as if he’d been digging ditches, and yet parents did it all day, every day.
Marissa started to lead the next child forward, but another boy, maybe four or so, ran to the front of the line. “My turn to talk to Santa.”
“No, it’s Nolan’s turn.” Marissa’s voice was firm. “You need to get in line with the others.”
“But I wanna go now.” Tears squeezed from the boy’s eyes and he wailed, “It’s my turn. My turn.” He sobbed as if his heart were breaking, and sank to the floor.
Chris winced. So much for getting the hang of things. He’d have to remember this next time he felt cocky. The boy’s mother hurried over, but made no move to pull him away. Instead, she crossed her arms and made eye contact with Marissa.
Marissa gave her a sympathetic smile and led the next boy in line around the weeping child sprawled across the vinyl floor. “Santa, this is Nolan.”
Okay, if that’s how they were going to play it. “Hi, Nolan.”
Chris watched the other boy from the corner of his eye while carrying on his conversation with Nolan, at least as well as he could with earsplitting screams a few feet away. Within minutes, the sobs diminished and the boy opened his eyes. When he realized no one was paying attention to him, he stopped crying as if turning off a faucet, and allowed his mother to escort him to the back of the line. When his turn came twenty minutes later, he cheerfully recited a long Christmas list, including requests for his baby brother and the dog. He gave no indication he even remembered he’d had a tantrum.
Wouldn’t that be great? To be able to simply put past mistakes behind you, without giving them another thought? At what age did you start to keep track of all the stupid, thoughtless and selfish actions that you and the people around you committed, letting them build up into walls? Chris wondered. On the other hand, what if everyone just acted as rotten as they wanted, without consequences? There was a reason people called it childish behavior. Kids were a puzzle.
How did Marissa know how to handle all this stuff? She was an only child, raised by an older couple. But somehow, she seemed to know exactly how to manage a herd of excited kids without breaking