Do You Believe in Santa? (16 page)

Moments later, he was out the door, wondering just what he was headed for. Jake remembered breakfast again. Then he thought back to his first conversation with Mrs. Swanson. She hadn't said much, but basically, she'd warned him to be good to Mandy.

He thought of Sherry, half-joking:
Don't
you
hurt her feelings. Or else.

And now, Winston Frazier. Whether Mandy realized it or not, people around here were pretty protective of her. Was Frazier looking out for Mandy? Or had he set up this newspaper interview to turn the crowd against him?

Either way, Jake figured he'd better be careful.

 

 

Bret Radner fell in line with Jake's idea of what a reporter should be, with a wiry build and sharp, dark eyes behind Clark-Kent-style glasses. He had a direct stare that made Jake want to ask if he had laser vision, except that with Radner's serious demeanor, that probably wouldn't go over. And when he wasn't asking questions, he didn't say much.

Okay, there were a few disappointing exceptions to the reporter cliché. No eye shade or suspenders, and he was at least twenty years too young—maybe younger than Jake himself. And he drank his coffee with cream, instead of black or laced with Jack Daniels. Of course, the latter wasn't exactly an option at the Pine 'n' Dine.

The questions so far had been aboveboard and detailed—far more detailed than Jake had gotten from the town council—including the proposed square footage of the hotel, number of units and possible traffic impact.

“I don't think anyone in Tall Pine really wants
less
traffic.” Jake tried a smile. Nothing. The guy certainly got points for dogged professionalism, but Jake wondered if the article would end up as dry as Winston Frazier's toast. “My point is, I think the hotel will actually be good for traffic. The best proposed site is the old drive-in lot on the way out of town, farther up the mountain. It'd make one more stop for people to stay in Tall Pine instead of driving another forty-five minutes to Mount Douglas, so the location is really ideal.”

Radner jotted rapidly into a small, narrow reporter's notebook, another item that fit the cliché to a T, and started the next question while he was still scrawling. “Locals are concerned that a chain hotel is a threat to the town's uniqueness. How do you answer that?”

By now, Jake could answer that one in his sleep. Trade-off, pros and cons, tourist business, controlled growth. He was starting to feel pretty good about the way this was going. But complacency was a dangerous thing.

Radner aimed a bespectacled stare at him, and somehow Jake knew this was it.

“Some people have expressed some concern about your relationship with Mandy Reese,” Radner said.

Rats.

Jake met the reporter's eyes. “First, I'd like to go off the record for a minute.”

He was gambling on the ethics of small-town journalism, but this seemed like the best way to handle it, and everything about Bret Radner practically screamed
ethics.

Radner gave a barely discernible nod, and his pen froze.

“The question puts me in a tight spot. Because I'm very serious about Miss Reese. But if I say that in print, it sounds like I'm trying to use that relationship for my own advancement.”

Radner nodded again without comment.
He's not giving me any hints here.

“Did you go to school with Mandy, by any chance?” Jake ventured.

“Irrelevant.”

But Jake had a direct stare of his own. He used it.

“Two years ahead of her,” Radner conceded. “But I'm not the one being interviewed.” So the star reporter
was
younger than Jake.

Radner poised his pen, looked at Jake, and waited.

Jake sighed and forged ahead. “For the record . . .”

 

 

“‘Carefully,'” Mandy echoed out loud. Elbows on the store counter, she lowered the newspaper to look at Jake. A sense of unease stole over her. “Why does he say ‘carefully'?”

“Because that's the way I said it.” Jake lifted the paper out of her hands gently. “Now I'm afraid I sounded too much like a politician.”

Mandy frowned. “So, this means, what? They think you're using me to get on the town's good side?”

“Something like that.” Jake shook out the paper, skimming down the page again. “It's not so bad. All the quotes are dead accurate, and the article's pretty even-handed. He quotes me; he quotes Frazier; he talks to Margery Williams. Pros and cons.”

Jake's calm bewildered Mandy. And she couldn't believe she was in the paper again. At least she didn't have to worry about Mrs. Swanson hanging this one on the wall.

She sipped the Styrofoam cup of coffee Jake had brought in for her with the morning paper and made a face. She'd forgotten to put in cream and sugar.

She shook her head. “I don't get it. How would dating me make any difference?”

“Think about it. You've been working at The North Pole for, what? Six years? How many kids in town do you think you've told about Santa by now?”

Mandy tried to calculate. “Maybe one or two a month during the summer. At Christmastime . . .” She couldn't possibly count.

To her amazement, Jake was smiling. “While you weren't looking, you turned into an institution.”

That was beyond comprehension. “So dating me is making problems for you?”

Jake set the paper down.

“Dating you,” he said firmly, “is the best thing that ever happened to me. But if I say that, it sounds like I'm playing us up for the wrong reasons. I kept it as simple as I could. Now, either they believe me or they don't.”

Her frown deepened. “What if they don't?”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Mandy picked up the newspaper again, studying the printed words until the letters looked weird and squiggly. The idea that anyone was concerned about what she did, beyond her connection with Santa Claus and the Christmas store, baffled her. The idea that anyone would turn it against Jake—

“Doesn't this tick you off?” she asked.

“It did at first,” he admitted. “But then I thought it over. This hubbub about you and me comes down to one of two things. It's either plain old soap opera mentality . . .” He shrugged.

“Or?”

“Or it's because they love you. And I can't blame them for that.”

Chapter 16

The last time Mandy walked into the lobby of the Tall Pine town hall, her stomach had been doing flip-flops. This time wasn't much different.

She cast a glance at the sign for the ladies' room as they passed it, remembering her emergency trip there. Okay, things were a little different. This time she and Jake were on the same page. She knew, wholeheartedly, that she wanted him to stay.

She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer, hoping once again that God understood incoherent shorthand. Then she opened her eyes before she could trip, and they walked into the council chambers.

They'd arrived early again, and the room was already as full as it had been when last month's meeting started. Jake steered them to the same seats they'd occupied before, in the center of the room, next to the podium.

“Are you sure this isn't bad luck?” she asked.

“I don't believe in luck,” he said. “I do believe in being close to the podium.”

Mandy slipped her hand into Jake's and watched the room fill. So many familiar faces. A few had been classmates, but most were older: customers, former teachers, shopkeepers from the other stores on Evergreen Lane. She saw Mrs. Swanson near the back. The chatter in the room slowly rose to a hum.

“How many people in Tall Pine?” she whispered to Jake. She knew he'd know.

“Nine thousand, eight hundred and seventy-three.” He quirked a smile at her. “Think we need a few more chairs?”

A moment later, city staffers did, in fact, start to bring in extra folding chairs. Mandy's fingers tightened around Jake's. At a few minutes before six, Scotty Leroux took a spot leaning against the side wall rather than taking up another chair. He winked at her.

Finally, at seven minutes after six, the town council members filed in. Mandy loosened her grip on Jake's hand so he wouldn't have to pry himself free when he stood up.

The Regal Hotels project came first on the agenda. This time, Jake stepped to the podium in the same jacket and tie he'd worn on their first date. They were more formal than what the rest of the council wore, but he looked comfortable and approachable. It wasn't just the council he had to sell tonight, though. The floor would be open for questions, and the room was packed. It was unfortunate that the podium was set up for Jake to face the council members rather than the audience.

As he started to speak, Mandy held her breath.

“Last time I was here,” he said, “I made mistakes. I tried to tell your town council why a Regal Hotel would be good for your community. I tried to convince them that I understood what Tall Pine needed. But as one of your council members pointed out to me, no matter how hard I try, there's no way I can get to know your town overnight. Or even in a couple of months.”

Then, to Mandy's surprise, he left the security of his podium and walked to the front of the room, a move she knew he hadn't planned. He leaned against the raised stage where the council members sat, angling himself so his back wasn't turned to the council completely, but so that he faced the crowd filling the chambers. Deep brown eyes surveyed the room, landing briefly on Mandy's, before he continued. Even without the microphone, his voice carried easily.

“Tonight the council's been gracious enough to allow me to come back and open the floor to the people this decision would really affect. And that's all of you. This time I'm here to listen, and to take your questions. So.” He slapped the top of the stage with the palm of his hand as his eyes skimmed over the crowded council chambers. “Hit me.”

For the next hour, Mandy watched Jake parry with the citizens of Tall Pine. He was nothing if not prepared. The hotter the hot seat got, the more relaxed Jake appeared. He came across as warm, personable and trustworthy, and he knew his figures backward and forward.

When the questions wound down, Jake addressed the group.

“I'll tell you the truth. Before I got here, Tall Pine was a dot on a map. Regal chose the town for its demographics, but we didn't know what it was like.” Jake rested an elbow on the stage, his eyes sweeping slowly over the crowd to include everyone in the room. “That started to change as soon as I got out of my car. It's
different
here. You've got fresher air. You've got four-way stop signs that work. And don't tell my boss I said this, but I kind of love the fact that my cell phone is out of range three-quarters of the time. And I like walking into a store or a restaurant and feeling like I'm meeting someone who's going to remember me next time. You have something special here, and I think you can share it without turning Tall Pine into a metropolis.”

“How do you propose we do that?” an audience member asked.

“That's in the hands of your town council. Up to now, Tall Pine hasn't had any concrete policies to prohibit national chain businesses. And up to now, you haven't needed that. Tradition's been enough. But the world's getting bigger all the time. Regal may have been the first national chain to approach the town, but we won't be the last. It's up to your council to set up policies and resolutions to control the amount of growth and the type of businesses you let in. I know they're equal to the task, because they know the value of what you have up here.”

 

 

The council voted to have the committee evaluate Jake's responses to the public, and he braced himself for his next phone conversation with Mark. Jake knew Regal Hotels wouldn't be thrilled with another delay and another month of telecommuting. For his part, he counted the outcome as better than a draw.

The following week, the committee invited him to an informal meeting with them. The results of that meeting were less encouraging.

“They're snagging on one thing,” he told Mandy as they tossed bread to the ducks at Prospect Lake. The wind coming off the lake was finger-numbingly cold, and Jake wondered why the birds hadn't flown south to Mexico. Or, at least, San Diego. “They're worried about the impact on the other hotels. I tried convincing them it would be apples and oranges, but they're afraid there won't be enough business to go around.”

Mandy paused before tossing another piece of crust. “Unless.”

Jake turned to her, eyebrows raised.

“What if you really made it apples and oranges?”

“Come again?”

“What if you gave the hotel a theme? I know I'm biased, but say, a Christmas theme. Something to make it more of a destination point, which the town would like. That could put it in a higher price bracket, so the other hotels would have the cost advantage.”

He hesitated, crumbs in hand. “Regal's never done a theme hotel,” he said slowly. “We're basic, we're reliable, we're affordable . . . but those things do make us more of a threat to the other hotels.”

Jake stared out at the ducks, considering.

“It might work,” he said slowly. “It's got points for originality. And it really could draw more tourists up here. It'd be good for everyone.” He turned to Mandy. “You have an awesome brain.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Jake stared past the beautiful blue eyes in front of him, trying to see the proposal to Regal in his head. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. It would attract a different type of vacationer than the existing hotels did, and the current hotel owners could still keep their share of business by continuing to offer a simple overnight stay at a lower price.

A theme hotel. Would Christmas be the right way to go?

“Although if I'm going to make it fly . . . maybe we could tone down the Christmas factor a little. Some people get maxed out on the holidays. If we did sort of a winter theme—pine trees, snowmen . . .”

Something in Mandy's eyes dimmed a little. “Like Christmas, but without the magic.”

“Oh, I don't know. I hear those snowmen have been known to get up and dance around.”

“Don't make fun.”

“Sorry.” He could run it by the Tall Pine committee first, then talk to Mark at the home office....

“When did you stop believing?” Mandy asked.

Images of the committee faded, and Mandy came back into sharp focus in front of his eyes. She looked compassionate, almost pitying. But this could be thin ice. Jake stepped out on it cautiously.

“Second grade, I think. But it wasn't any big trauma. I guess I was always kind of suspicious. I was trying to hang tough, maybe because I was worried that if I stopped going along with it, the presents might stop too.”

Her lips twitched upward. “Mercenary.”

Okay, she did have a sense of humor about it. “So I was at the kitchen table writing up my
mercenary
Christmas list, and my brother Tony walked in. He's three years older. And, like any tactful big brother, he said, ‘You don't really believe in that stuff, do you?'”

Mandy looked stricken. “That's terrible.”

“It's what brothers do to each other. Although the youngest one never quite catches up. Tony has
still
hit me more times than I ever hit him. But we love each other.”

“But he told you there was no Santa Claus. That's brutal.”

“You're dealing with Mr. Practical, remember? After Tony talked to me, I did some independent research on my own. I finished my Christmas list that year. But then I made another one.”

She frowned.

“One, I put on the refrigerator for my parents. The other one, I addressed to the North Pole and mailed it off without telling anyone.” He shrugged. “Guess which list my presents came from.”

“You
tested
Santa Claus?” She looked as if she wasn't sure whether to be horrified or amused.

“Scientific method.”

This really
was
a little bit like a religious difference. He thought they'd better move on to a new topic.

Mandy persisted, “Let me ask you a question.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously.

“You're saying you got the presents you asked your parents for, right?”

“Right. I mean, not
everything.
But there was nothing from the Santa list.”

“And which presents did you want more?”

“The ones on the fridge. I admit, I hedged my bets. But if you're saying Santa Claus had anything to do with what my parents bought me . . .”

She shrugged and smiled, amazingly placid. So Jake ventured one more step out on that thin ice.

“Then I should have gotten a lump of coal in my stocking, right? For testing Santa Claus.”

“I never said he punishes bad kids. I don't know how it all works. I just know what I saw.”

He'd made his peace with this, he reminded himself, and logic had nothing to do with it.

“Anyway,” she said, “Christmas isn't about what's under the tree.”

“You're right about that.” He put his arm around her, his cheek resting on top of her head as he gazed over the lake. The evening sky was turning gray, and the wind was picking up, sending a bitter bite through his pullover. Winter would be here soon, and with it, Christmas.

A Christmas hotel. And suddenly he remembered an old Bing Crosby movie. “Mandy?”

“Hmm?” She sounded relaxed, contented.

“Were you by any chance thinking of
Holiday Inn
when you thought that up?”

“Maybe a little.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

Yes, it could work. Regal Hotels wouldn't lose out on what they'd invested to send him out here. The other hotels wouldn't be threatened, the town would see more tourists, and he certainly had an expert consultant by his side. Plus, overseeing the opening of a themed hotel would undoubtedly take months longer, so Jake would be able to stay longer in Tall Pine.

Maybe even for good. He knew other Regal representatives who'd moved on to hotel management.

He pulled Mandy closer. One step at a time, he reminded himself. He had to get Tall Pine to say yes first, before he let himself think about . . .

The ducks and geese on the water had gotten subdued, their quacking silent, their movements lazy. Maybe because Jake and Mandy had stopped throwing food out on the water. Or maybe because it was darn cold out here.

Jake said, “This is a dangerous time of year for ducks, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Sometimes it freezes when they're not ready for it. If the water turns to ice too fast, their legs get stuck under the surface—”

“Forget it.” Mandy jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, not too sharply. “I saw
Fried Green Tomatoes,
too.”

 

 

For Mandy, November passed in a blur.

While she trained the three part-timers they'd hired for the Christmas rush, Jake met with the town council's hotel committee and kept Regal Hotels up-to-date on his progress. At last the committee held a meeting with the proprietors of the two local hotels. The hotel owners agreed that a holiday hotel wouldn't be likely to pull much of their existing business away. Jake spoke to Mark, his regional manager at Regal, who agreed the concept sounded promising. At Mark's recommendation, Jake started on a detailed proposal for the executive board.

And Mandy started on her first-ever yarn craft project: a needlepoint Christmas stocking for Jake.

The artwork in the predesigned kit actually included Santa Claus. With his face crafted in stitches, details were scant, so accuracy wasn't an issue. It showed Santa on top of a roof, the traditional pack on his back. Below the picture, just before the foot of the stocking began, needlepoint letters spelled out the word,
Believe
.