McDonald_NoELFngWay_GEN_Dec2015 (2 page)

Blix grinned. “I’m not saying you don’t have a point about her appearance. This is probably a bad time to confess I had kind of hoped you and Vixen might hit it off. The two of you have a lot in common. You’re both single parents who deserve a break.”

“Vixen has a child?” Dash winced when Blix tilted his head and gave him a disbelieving look. “Stop with the look. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised she isn’t married, especially looking like she looks now. Shit… my mistake is going to bite me in the ass for a good long while, isn’t it?”

Dash fought back another sigh when Blix nodded.

“Women don’t get over rejection fast. Lots of groveling is usually involved. In this case, I don’t think I would recommend it. Those pointy red heels of hers look dangerous. Normally she wears that outfit with elf booties over her sneakers.”

They certainly did look dangerous… and downright exciting too. Dash snorted and watched Vixen walk to one of the only chairs in the room. It was the Santa’s prop for testing the suit while sitting.

With as much confidence as a practiced stripper, she raised one long leg and put a red heel on the seat. Discreetly flipping up her skirt, she proceeded to let women have a look under it. He was sure she wore shorts, but… damn. His mind went other places and imagined a whole lot more than was appropriate.

Turning, he saw all the Santas slowly gravitating over to the elf side. Did they think Vixen was going to give them a peek under her skirt as well?

Shaking his head at Blix’s highly amused grin, Dash decided it was time for a cool down walk around the store.

“How was school yesterday?” Cupid asked, staring at the bowed head of her grandson.

On Fridays, Dash left work early and picked up Nicky from school. The boy looked forward to it each week. She made herself scarce on those days so father and son could spend some quality time together. Saturdays were family days for the three of them.

When Nicky nodded without answering her question, Cupid smiled. His non-verbal response was boy-speak for ‘good, but don’t make me tell you about it’. Dasher had been exactly like that when he was Nicky’s age.

“Give me one piece of information. I promise I won’t ask for more.”

“Okay. We’re finally starting to read,” Nicky said at last.

Cupid nodded. “Good. About time. You’re already so far ahead of your classmates in reading that I was thinking I needed to have a little chat with your teacher.”

Nicky’s intake of breath and alarmed gaze had her fighting not to laugh.

“No, Mima. Please….”

Cupid gave in to her laughter. The entire school hated her visits, mostly because she got her way. Between her and Dash, Nicky’s education was moving along smoothly.

“Fine. We’ll see if everyone catches up to you in a few weeks. I won’t talk to them until then.”

“Thank you,” Nicky exclaimed.

Cupid heard the exaggerated relief in his voice, but imagined the boy probably felt it as well.

She walked closer, glancing down at what he was doing. It wasn’t homework. Homework was done on Sunday afternoons. Nicky didn’t do homework until prompted.

Saturday morning was normally playtime.

Up close, she could see he was composing a letter. She could make out his attempt to write ‘Dear Santa’ with one perfect
a
and one backward one.

“Want some help?”

“No. Your wish is supposed to be a secret,” Nicky declared.

“True,” Cupid replied calmly, “but Mimas are special. We are the keepers of all secrets. It’s a part of being a grandmother.”

“Really?” Nicky asked.

“Really,” Cupid replied in her most serious voice. She watched as Nicky’s head went back to study his efforts. His wavy hair fell forward and she had to restrain herself from brushing it back.

“Okay. How do you spell
new
?”

Cupid picked up a spare pencil and grabbed a nearby notepad. She wrote n-e-w on it and slid it near his half-finished letter.

“Thank you, Mima.”

Nicky’s happy nod was still solemn. Cupid pulled a chair up beside the desk. She sat quietly while her grandson struggled over his writing. He painstakingly wrote the word “
new
” after “
I want a
” on the note. He also wrote an “
m
”.

Then Nicky stopped, no doubt aware she was going to soon figure out what he was asking for in his letter. His face lifted to hers in question.

Cupid put out a hand and stroked his cheek. He looked so much like Dasher at times it made her heart ache for the past. She wished her husband had lived to see him, but too many years of cigarettes and scotch had taken their toll early. Stepping into his shoes at their business had kept her going when little else had after his loss.

Blix was doing a great job holding the reins though—much better than she had done. Sometimes she wondered if she should have just sold the business to Blix in the first place. Sales were up. Deliveries were getting made in record time. She had no financial concerns. What could be better? She got to enjoy being a grandmother with hardly any worries.

And with Blix at the helm, Dash was certainly more stress-free. He seemed to have mostly rebounded from Melody’s death, but no female had crossed her son’s threshold in the last couple of years except her. Maybe soon Dash would start dating again. She wanted her son to be happy. She wanted Nicky to have brothers and sisters. Dash had been lonely growing up alone and she’d regretted that decision all her life.

“I only want one thing this year,” Nicky said with conviction.

Cupid’s attention zoomed back to her grandson. “That’s very good of you, darling. What one thing are you going to ask Santa to bring?”

Nicky looked down at his paper again. Cupid watched his grip tighten on his pencil.

“I want a new mother. But I don’t know how to spell it.”

Cupid swallowed hard. She had always known her love was secondary. It was the nature of a child to want the normal two parents most of their peers had. How she wished she could give his birth mother back to him. Melody had been a good woman and loved Nicky fiercely. Her death was still being felt two years after the drunk driver had ended her life.

Reaching out, she ran a hand over Nicky’s head. “Just write m-o-m. That will get the job done. Santa is very good at figuring things like that out.”

Nicky nodded and went back to writing. “Can we take this to him today?”

Cupid knew mailing was out of the question, so she didn’t even suggest it. The boy was as impatient as his father about doing things. She would have to make several copies of the letter so they could give one to every Santa they saw between now and Christmas.

But to offset the blow of his disappointment come Christmas morning, she was going to have to buy a few more presents. She sincerely hoped the boy could be consoled with toys when no mother showed up.

Now she had to decide whether or not to tell Dash about Nicky’s request. Damn. She thought they were going to be in the clear of his grief this year. Dash had seemed to actually be enjoying the holidays for once. She hated to take that away from him. He tended to worry about Nicky’s mental health, often way more than she thought he should. Children might get emotional, but mostly they were resilient. She suspected Dash was the one whose mental health could use some work.

“If I can find where Santa is hearing wishes this afternoon, we’ll go see him. Daddy has to go to work for a bit today anyhow.”

“Mima? Even if Santa does bring me a mom, I’ll still love you,” Nicky promised.

Cupid laughed. Leave it to a child to intuit an adult’s true concerns. “Well, of course you will, darling. I’m your Mima. You and I will always love each other. That’s simply how it works.”

Nicky’s giggle made the threatening tears dry up before they had a chance to fall.

***

“The lights took too long. What goes on the tree next?”

The corner of Dash’s mouth tilted up as the upper half of his six year old son’s skinny body disappeared inside the giant red plastic storage carton.

“The tinsel goes next. That’s the shiny silver stuff in the bag. It’s not in great shape. This is probably the last year we’ll get to use it.”

His wife, Melody, had loved the stuff. By the time she’d gotten done decorating the tree, sometimes tinsel had been all that was visible.

If it had been left up to him, he would have bought one of those pop-up trees with lights already on it. Ta da—instant Christmas tree. Ready in three minutes. No further decorations needed.

His efficient inclinations had never been well received by the women in his life. But he could see potentially easier decorating projects in his future after his equally impatient offspring got a little older.

He couldn’t stifle his chuckle about being proved right when Nicky sighed impatiently. The boy very laboriously pulled the tinsel out and mashed it against his tiny chest. To give his son credit, he kept at the task until he’d gathered up all fifty feet. His small arms overflowed with mangled tinsel but somehow Nicky managed to carry all of it to him in one trip.

“You’re squishing it, son. Now we have to shake it out and make it fluffy again. Mima has pretty high standards. We don’t want to be accused of being bad decorators, do we?”

Nicky’s childish giggle never failed to be worth his attempts at silliness.

“Make it fluffy? Rabbits are fluffy, Dad. Tree stuff is shiny.”

Despite being a single father, Dash couldn’t complain about much that came with the role. He and Nicky were having a good year. They’d successfully made it through Thanksgiving. So far they weren’t having the typical Christmas meltdown over Melody’s death. Maybe this holiday season both of them could finally stop grieving for what couldn’t be changed.

“That’s enough, Dad. We need to hang our balls now.”

Dash snickered. The boy’s innocent innuendoes never failed to make him laugh. “Get them out then, but be careful. Some are breakable.”

Nicky did another head dive over the edge of the tub and soon a secondary container was hefted from the bottom.

“That tree sure looks better than when I got here this morning. You two ready for hot chocolate? I brought extra marshmallows in case my grandson needed more because his melted too fast.”

Dash turned to the woman carrying a tray. Both of them had learned to stave off the inevitable tantrums from too-fast-melting marshmallows. It had been a hard learning curve.

“Thanks for making it, Mom.” Dash smiled when his mother did.

“You’re welcome. Can’t decorate a tree without hot chocolate.”

“Yay for Mima Cupid. Yay for marshmallows,” Nicky sang, running over to get his cup.

Dash shook his head at the accompanying body celebration any scoring football player would have envied. Man, he was grumpy today. His run-in with Vixen yesterday afternoon and the guilt-ridden restless night which had followed hadn’t helped his mental state any.

Maybe he was jealous of his son’s enthusiasm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much joy his whole body got involved. Luckily, he had just enough self-control not turn into a complaining schmuck. That tended to ruin everyone’s fun and a sulking six year old was not a pleasant companion.

“Mima Cupid,” Nicky whispered, “are we still going?”

“Absolutely, darling,” he heard his mother whisper back.

“Going where?” Dash demanded in his dad voice. His mouth twitched at the panicked looks being exchanged. He had to fight not to smile.

“We’re going to see Santa, Dash. I hear there’s an early one hearing wishes at the Breckinridge Mall,” Cupid declared.

Dash snorted as he thought about Vixen again and the charity project Blix wouldn’t let him out of. His rented Santa suit was now hiding in the back of his closet upstairs. He wasn’t looking forward to his two hours every other day. However, he did think playing Santa for a week was better than the stupid dinner date raffle Blix had arranged for two unlucky bachelor volunteers.

Sure, he hadn’t dated in a few months, but the last thing he needed was to suffer through an uncomfortable night with someone he wasn’t remotely interested in. He’d rather stay home and watch holiday movies and cartoons with his son.

Dash shook his head over his lack of desire to meet women. Maybe he was getting old at thirty-four.

“Santa’s going to be at Sacks-Rudolph’s every afternoon starting next week, Mima. Why don’t you two just wait and go then? He’ll be there every day. I know this for a fact.”

“No, Dad. That might be too late,” Nicky complained.

Dash saw his mother pat his son’s back in empathy, hoping no doubt to stave off the upcoming fit if he got denied. Stubborn chip off the old block. Whatever she had promised the boy, his mother would have to make good on.

“I need some things from the mall anyway. Since you have that Christmas open house tonight, I figured it would be a good time to go. Nicky can see Santa and I can knock a few things off my shopping list. Win-win,” his mother declared.

Dash nodded. Win-win had been Cupid Sleigh’s motto when she’d held the reins at the company for a few years. He still wasn’t sure how his mother had so easily shrugged aside the only business career she’d ever had to become a full time babysitter. She’d said she was doing it to make sure Nicky had the support he needed to get over Melody’s death.

He conceded that so far it had worked out pretty much as his mother had hoped. If she wanted to take his son to see a hundred Santas, how could he deny his mother any request within reason? The woman was there for Nicky as much as he was. He had learned over the last two years to be grateful for the continuing support.

“Sure, Mom. Whatever works. I forgot about the open house this evening. I was having a good time staying home today.”

“I know, Dash. You’re working far too hard. Don’t make me tell Blixem to force you to take your vacation this year. You haven’t even been playing squash at the gym lately.”

“I know, Mom. I know.”

“Dad—you’re putting too many balls on one side,” Nicky declared.

Dash grinned at his son’s chocolate covered lips. “You can’t see them when you’re the one hanging them. And you were supposed to be helping me. Old Dad can’t seem to catch a break lately.”