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Mary’s shoulders sagged and her heart sank into her boots. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, ma’am. I wish I wasn’t.” He glanced down the line of rental car counters. “Have you tried the other services here at the airport?”
“Yes, and they all said the same thing.You were my last hope.”
“We just rented out the only car we had left to that gentleman.” He nodded to the man wearing the ridiculous cowboy hat walking away with the last set of keys. “I’m sorry. Perhaps you could find a hotel shuttle to get you to a hotel for the night and see if someone turns in a vehicle in the morning.”
“That’s not an option. I’m not staying in Fairbanks.” Her gaze locked on the man with the last rental car key. Hadn’t he said he was heading for North Pole? If she hurried, maybe she could catch a ride with him. Once she was there, her father would make sure she had a vehicle to get around in.
Balancing her bag of presents in one hand, she turned her rolling suitcase and raced through the airport.
She caught up with him just as he stepped out the door into the continuous twilight of an Alaskan December afternoon. “Sir!”
A bitter wind blew her words away, or the man was ignoring her. He didn’t slow one bit until his cowboy hat flipped off his head and blew straight at Mary.
She let go of her suitcase handle and dove for the hat, catching it before it dropped into a pile of dirty snow. She held it out, pasting a smile on her face. She could have tripped on her own snow boots when the man turned his brown-eyed gaze onto her.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She bit back a smart remark about how most people didn’t wear cowboy hats in December in Alaska. She didn’t know if he had a sense of humor and she definitely didn’t want to make him mad when she planned on begging a ride from him. “Are you headed for North Pole?”
He plunked his hat on his head and didn’t answer for the first five seconds. “Yes.”
Good. He was headed her direction as she’d thought. Mary breathed in a gulp of the icy air. “I’m headed that way myself and you just happened to get the last rental car in the airport. Is there a chance you could give me a lift there?”
His frown deepened. “Yes.”
“I’ll pay you half of your daily rate for today.” Mary stopped and stared at him. “You will?”
“I said yes.” He continued toward the nearly empty rental car parking lot.
Mary scurried after him, wrapping her woolen scarf around the lower part of her face and pulling her hat more firmly about her ears. She’d forgotten how unforgiving the wind blew in Fairbanks.
When they’d settled in the front seat of the sedan, Mary tugged her glove off her right hand. “I’m Mary Christmas. And you are?”
Instead of taking her hand, he stuck the key in the ignition and started the car. “Nick.”
“Nick?” She closed her eyes so that he couldn’t see her rolling them. “Do you have a last name?”
At first she didn’t think he was going to answer. He pushed the shift into Reverse and brushed her arm when he braced his hand on the back of her seat. He was close enough that Mary could smell his aftershave, a potent woodsy, spicy scent. His brown eyes glowed in the light from the dash. “St. Claire.”
Mary caught her breath and stared straight forward.
When Nick had the car in gear, he asked, “Do you know how to get to North Pole?”
“Yes, I lived there most of my life.”
“Then you can navigate.”
“Fair enough.” Mary gave him directions and leaned back in her seat, letting the heat warm her hands and cheeks.
A small smile curled the corners of Nick’s lips. “Aren’t you afraid to ride with strangers?”
“If we’d been in Seattle, I would never have imposed on you, but here in Alaska, it’s probably a fair bet you’re not a mass murderer.”
“I thought people with questionable pasts moved to small towns in Alaska to escape their lives in the Lower 48.”
Mary snorted. “They might think they can escape, but the population is so limited in smaller communities, everyone knows everyone else.”
“Therefore, if a stranger comes to town, everyone would know him as a stranger?”
“Right.” She smiled his way. “You’d definitely stick out as a stranger, especially this time of year. In the summer, not so much. Droves of tourists visit North Pole in their RVs and on tour buses, but they eventually leave. Not many people come in the darkness and freezing temperatures of winter.” Her smile slipped. Some people left Alaska on business trips to warmer climates and greener pastures.
Her lips pulled into a straight line. She’d been so naÏve. That was old news. She’d since moved to Seattle and two years had passed. Mary shook her head to clear the cobwebs and concentrated on the man beside her. “Why are you coming to North Pole? Looking for a place to escape?”
“Would you believe I have business with Santa?”
“Maybe.” Mary stared hard at him. Something about the way he said the words didn’t ring true, but she hadn’t heard much from her father in the past few months. Since her father had found a life of his own and the new wife. Kim.
Nick glanced at her. “What’s Santa’s real name?”
The smile returned to Mary’s face. “Santa Claus.”
“No, really. What’s his real name?”
“For as long as I can remember, he’s always been Santa Claus. I’ve asked him hundreds of times what his real name was, but he never told me. He signs his name as Santa and his Social Security card and driver’s license all say Santa Claus.”
Nick shook his head, a frown dipping between his brows. “I don’t get it.”
Mary shrugged and settled back against her seat, refusing to fall into the trap of trying to explain the whole North Pole, Alaska, and the Christmas Towne phenomenon. Some people didn’t get it. The man next to her probably never would. His loss.
Bradley, the two-timing-bigamist, never understood it either. He’d laughed at the whole concept. He’d probably been laughing at her all along as well. Look at the dumb bumpkin from the sticks of Alaska, too stupid to see through his lies.
The fifteen miles to North Pole flew by. Her heart banged against the inside of her chest when her hometown came into view. Colorful Christmas lights sparkled year-round on the houses and the candy cane lampposts. She never tired of bright colors. Living in Seattle, she missed the cheery lights even in the summertime. As the Christmas Towne store came into view, tears welled in her eyes. Red and white diagonal stripes graced the boxy entrance. Pictures of reindeer and Santa’s sleigh stretched across the whitewashed exterior walls. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed home until she came back.
“This is my stop.” She stared at the building trying to imagine the first impression of a stranger to what she considered home. It looked like a red and white fantasy castle in the middle of the Alaskan landscape. The house beside the store was painted brown and trimmed with fake gumdrops and candy canes; the two buildings could have been out of any child’s most elaborate dream. The little cottage beside the store looked like a gingerbread house good enough to eat, covered in a fluffy foot of snow with drifts up to the windowsills.
A light still shone inside the store. Had her father kept the store open late for the Christmas season? Several cars and a North Pole police SUV stood out front. Christmas Towne had some of the best coffee in North Pole. Many people came all the way out from Fairbanks to eat dinner and buy gifts from the diner and store. They made it a shopping expedition complete with small children anxious to sit in Santa’s lap and tell him all their wishes.
“If you’ll park in front of the store, I’ll introduce you to my fa—Santa.” When he shifted the car into Park, she grabbed for the handle and jumped out, anxious to ask her father what was so important she had to fly home at the drop of a hat. At the same time, she didn’t want to let Nick get away without finding out what business he had with Santa.
Nick popped the latch on the trunk and lifted her suitcase as if it weighed nothing. “I’d appreciate that introduction.”
She led the way to the glass doors and entered. Inside, it wasn’t a mob of shoppers she ran into. Instead, she was met by North Pole police officer Trey Baskin and Chris Moss, one of Christmas Towne’s employees, Betty Reedy, the Christmas Towne baker, and her stepmother, Kim Claus.
They stared at her, their gazes shifting to the man beside her as though seeing her with a man was so unusual they were stunned into temporary silence. Mary sighed. So it had been a while since she’d brought a man home to North Pole—two years to be exact. And this one wasn’t even her man. “Trey Baskin, Chris Moss, Betty Reedy and Kim Claus, this is Nick St. Claire. He was good enough to give me a lift from the airport.”
Chris Moss, the teenager her father had befriended and hired on as full-time staff, was first to stumble forward, his face creased in a worried frown. “Mary, I’m so glad you’re here.” The pale tinge to his young skin set off alarms in Mary’s subconscious. Chris had been the most optimistic teen she’d ever known since her father took him under his wing.
“What’s going on?” Mary grabbed his hand and held tight, her stomach doing full gainers in a sea of airport food and acid.
“It’s Mr. Claus.” Sixteen-year-old Chris squeezed her hand, tears welling in his eyes. He opened his mouth to talk and closed it again.
Betty stepped forward, her happy face drawn and looking all of her fifty-five years. “Your father is missing.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_e86be4bf-1057-53e1-b807-d88b644dd6df)
Nick schooled his face to show no shock. So, Santa was missing and Mary Christmas was his daughter. He really shouldn’t be astonished that the petite blonde next to him was Santa’s daughter. Not with a name like Mary Christmas and in a town called North Pole with streets like Santa Claus Lane and Snowman Lane. Why shouldn’t Mary’s father’s real name be Santa Claus? And given that Nick was sent by a dead man to help Santa Claus, it all made sense in a weird, surreal way.
Whatever the case, he knew his job remained here. If the dead man in Brooklyn had wanted Royce to help Santa, Nick was the first line of defense to find the man and protect him from the fate of his buddy back East.
While Mary questioned the officer and the tearful Mrs. Claus, Nick studied the people gathered.
He started with the boy, Chris, with his shaggy brown hair hanging down past his collar and a skater look to him. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath his eyes and his gaze darted around the room in nervous jerks.
Betty Reedy, the woman with salt-and-pepper hair, slightly rounded figure and soft blue eyes wrung her hands, her mouth pressed into a grim line. She reached out and pulled Chris into the curve of her arm and whispered something into his ear.
Chris nodded, jammed his hands into his pockets and stared down at his shoes.
Mrs. Claus was the most unusual of the group milling about the front of the store. She stood no more than five feet tall, her slanted eyes and pale skin marking her as of Asian descent. She carried herself ramrod straight, making good every inch of height she could, her sleek brown hair combed into a smooth chignon at the back of her head, exposed a long, thin neck.
Then there was the cop, doing his best to document the details of Santa’s disappearance. Trey Baskin, in his police uniform, jotted information into his notebook, a frown pressing his brows into a V over his nose. He’d probably never handled anything more violent than a knifing in a bar fight.
And Mary Christmas stood among them shooting questions at each, her voice strained. She reached out and pushed a long strand of silky blond hair back away for her face, exposing a delicate ear studded with a single pearl earring.
The curve of her jaw and the smooth line of her neck captured Nick’s attention more than then should have. When he realized he was staring at her, he turned away and wandered around the spacious shop. Decorated like an old-timey general store with rough wooden beams and wooden barrels filled with toys, the place was a treasure trove of delight for children and adults alike. In one corner was a work space littered with wood pieces that once assembled would be a toy train set. An apron hung on the wall behind a stool. The whole setup looked like Santa’s workshop where he demonstrated toy making.
In the center of the store stood a large chair resembling a throne, decorated with red, white and gold paint. A fuzzy red jacket trimmed in white fur hung on a peg beside it. Santa’s chair where he entertained the hopes and dreams of hundreds of small children each year.
Nick snorted beneath his breath.
A camera and several lighting umbrellas stood among fake Christmas trees and giant candy canes. Get your picture taken with Santa…for a charge.
On closer inspection, Nick noted tiny cameras in each corner of the building. A fairly elaborate security system for a place so far north, but then maybe Santa had problems with the locals hiking through several feet of snow to steal Christmas gift items during the endless winter nights.
“Can I help you?” The voice behind him with its hint of an Asian accent sounded as cool as the wind outside.
He turned toward the tiny, thin woman. She wore a deep red velvet dress trimmed with white fake fur at the wrists and neckline. Her slanted, brown eyes were red-rimmed and her face was smooth and porcelain-pale.
Mary had introduced her as Kim Claus. Santa’s wife? She didn’t look anything like Mary. Was she a stepmother? Santa’s new wife? “When did you discover Mr…Claus was missing?” Nick stumbled over the name, feeling more than just a little ridiculous. How long had it been since he’d stopped believing in Santa Claus? Had he ever? Growing up in foster care in Texas wasn’t the best environment for misplaced beliefs.
The woman touched a tissue to the corner of her eye and sniffed. “What was your name again?”
“Nick St. Claire, a friend of Mr. Claus.” Nick moved back toward the others standing in the center of the store.
Kim followed him. “My husband never mentioned you.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“I’ve known Mr. Claus a long time. I have no memory of your name.”
“We don’t know each other well. How long did you say you knew Santa?”
“We’ve known each other since back when we were much younger.”
“Really?” Nick lifted a nutcracker in the shape of a wooden soldier from a shelf and pretended to study the cracking mechanism. “I thought you were newlyweds.”
“We are. I—we just recently found each other again.”
Nick glanced up and caught Mary’s gaze.
Her long blond hair framed a pale face and beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears.
He found himself drawn to her, crossing the floor to her side before he realized what he was doing. The tug of concern pulling at the muscles in his chest was foreign to Nick. He didn’t know this woman.
Until yesterday, he didn’t know a man named Santa Claus existed other than in the movies and fantasies of children. Why should he care about how the woman next to him felt about her missing father? His primary focus should have been on finding Santa Claus. The man and his daughter were nothing more than another assignment. Emotions weren’t part of an SOS agent’s authorized equipment list.
“This whole situation is crazy. Santa is probably fine. Perhaps he stayed at a friend’s house or something. In the meantime, I have to let people know the scheduled deliveries might be delayed if we can’t find my husband soon.” Kim sniffed and dabbed at her eyes, moving toward the checkout counter. “If you have any more questions concerning my husband, ask Officer Baskin. I have calls to make, and I need to close the shop.”
The front door to Christmas Towne slammed closed and everyone turned to see who entered.
A stout man with gray hair and brown-black eyes hurried through carrying a microphone in one hand. He was closely followed by a man hefting a camera on his shoulder with NEWS printed in large block letters on its black plastic casing.
“Ah, Mary. I’m so glad you’re here,” the man with the microphone said.
A soft groan escaped Mary’s mouth. “Please, not now, Silas.”
He crossed the floor to stand in front of the petite blonde.
Too close for polite conversation. His stance appeared more threatening than casual.
Nick took a step forward before he could catch himself.
“As soon as I heard the news, I hurried over.” Silas waved the cameraman closer.
“With the media?” Mary closed her eyes, her lips moving as if she were counting to ten.
The man she’d called Silas raised his brows. “The public has a right to know the most famous man in North Pole is missing.” He rubbed his hands together like a kid anxiously awaiting a new toy. “What we want to know is why? After thirty years of playing Santa, why has he disappeared? Could it be a mysterious criminal past caught up with him? Is Santa on the run from the law?”
Mary threw her arms in the air. “Good grief, Silas! My father is not on the run from the law. He’s not the criminal. More likely he’s the victim. Now get out of here before I have you thrown out.”
Kim Claus stood a few feet away, her lip curled in an amused smile. “Really, Silas, that’s a pretty pathetic attempt to slander my husband. Santa is a good man. Everyone knows it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to the man in uniform. “Don’t you agree, Officer Baskin?”
The officer nodded. “Silas, now’s not the time to be a pain. Leave quietly, please.”
“I have a right to know about a man who pretends to be Santa. Imagine all the children who’ve been fooled by a potential criminal. Parents will be up in arms.” He shot a narrow look at Mary as she inhaled deeply. “Notice I said potential. I’m not accusing your father of anything. I’m just a concerned citizen.”
“Silas Grentch, you’re only concerned about getting your hands on the best moneymaking business in town. I thought you couldn’t stoop lower, but you never fail to amaze me.” Mary looked to Officer Baskin. “Can you make him leave?”
