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“No, I don’t.” Then she realized how vulnerable her admission made her. “But I have a black belt in karate and an attack dog trained to kill on command.” Pudgy’s yip would pierce armor-plated eardrums. “Drowning in dog slobber is an unpleasant way to go.”
He might have smiled again as he peered in at the toy-sized dog. “Thanks for the warning. I ran out of gas. I’ve been meaning to get the gas gauge fixed, but I put it off a little too long.” He shrugged and grinned. Quite disarm-ingly. “Looks like I’m stuck.”
“Sorry. I don’t have any gas, either.”
“Where’s your sleigh, Santa?” Born verbal, Lizzie had no qualms about jumping into adult conversation.
“Can’t drive the sleigh without snow, darlin.’ I had to use the truck today.”
“Does it fly?”
“Nope. That’s why I need gas.” He turned to Ellin. “I’m running behind schedule. I’m due at Shady Acres in a few minutes. Big Christmas party for the residents. The old folks are really looking forward to it, and I’d hate to disappoint them. It’s just up the road. Could you give me a lift?”
Not hardly. A deserted road. Stranger. Unarmed female with small child and wheezy dog. It had all the makings of a late-breaking news story. But, she reminded herself, this was not Chicago. Washington, Arkansas, wasn’t exactly a teeming hotbed of criminal activity. Besides, would the roadside strangler go to the trouble of donning a beautifully made, fur-trimmed, ruby-red crushed velvet Santa suit, complete with shiny black knee boots, wide silver-buckle and jaunty cap?
She thought not.
“Mommy!”
Ellin looked back at Lizzie and wondered if the callous treatment of a childhood icon might someday propel her daughter into therapy. “What, honey?”
“Give Santa a ride so I can tell him where my new house is.”
Like she’d let that happen. “Actually, I’m headed for Shady Acres myself,” she told the man behind the fake beard and pillow-stuffed tummy. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, a shoulder-length white wig that curled on unelfishly wide shoulders and a big, droopy mustache that twitched when he smiled.
She lowered the window another inch. “I’ll give you a ride. If you can tell me the administrator’s name.”
“Is this some kind of test?”
He might not be Santa, but his brown eyes definitely twinkled. “Not as in ACT, but I need proof you’re telling the truth.”
“Mommy! Santa Claus wouldn’t fib.” Lizzie was scandalized.
The man in the Santa suit laughed. The rich sound was like aged brandy, and made Ellin feel flushed and warm all over. “I need to be careful.”
“I appreciate your caution. The administrator’s name is Lorella Polk. She’s fifty-eight years old. Married to Henry Polk, mother of Bobby, Tracy and Paul. She has four grandchildren. Allen, Lindsey, Derrick and Ty. She belongs to the First Baptist Church and sings alto in the choir. She’s been running the nursing home for twelve years. Before that, she had a home decor party business and before that, she sold cosmetics door-to-door. She had her gall bladder removed last year and has to watch her cholesterol. Recently, she developed an annoying rash on her—”
“That’ll do,” Ellin said briskly. “What are you? The local operative for the North Pole CIA?”
He leaned down and smiled through the window at Lizzie. “Santa Claus knows everything. Right, princess?”
Lizzie beamed and waved her wand, clearly gratified to meet someone who recognized royalty when he saw it.
“Right.” With a sigh, Ellin unlocked the door. Father Christmas fetched a big canvas bag full of brightly wrapped presents from his truck and placed it in the back seat. Then he slid in beside her and Pudgy, and arranged his long legs.
Wow, she thought as she accelerated. Who would have guessed a guy who hung out with reindeer would smell so nice?
“Do you gots a surprise for me in your sack, Santa?” Lizzie asked hopefully.
He turned and gave the little girl a solemn look. “I just might. But you’ll have to wait until the party to find out.”
“Goody! Mommy says you don’t need a chimbly to get into my house on Christmas Eve. Is that true?” Apparently, even four-year-olds knew to verify questionable data.
“Your mommy’s right about that.”
“Let me hear you go ho, ho, ho,” the princess commanded.
“Okay.” He gathered a deep, dramatic breath, clamped both hands on his sizable tummy, and let loose a rumbling trio of hos.
Ellin frowned, then smiled at her daughter’s obvious delight. Who was this man?
“Hey, Pudgy, how ya doin’ old buddy?” He ruffled the dog’s fur, and the beast crawled into his ample lap.
“How do you know my grandmother’s dog?”
“Santa knows everything, Mommy.” The princess had long since perfected a tone of superiority when dealing with her subjects. “He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake.”
The man didn’t miss a beat. “He knows when you’ve been bad or good,” he sang in an ingenuous baritone that rumbled through the car’s interior.
“So be good for good’ess sake.” Lizzie finished with a reprimanding shake of her tiny finger. At least all the hours they’d spent on the trip listening to the same two Christmas CDs over and over had paid off.
“I probably don’t need to tell you this,” Ellin said with a sidelong glance at her mysterious passenger. “But my name is Ellin Bennett and that’s Princess Lizzie.”
He patted the dog with his white-gloved hand. “I know who you are. I’m—”
“Santa Claus, of course.” Ellin cocked her head in Lizzie’s direction, warning him with a look not to destroy the little girl’s illusions.
“That’s right. Santa Claus. Ho, ho, ho.”
Jack Madden knew exactly who Ellin Bennett was, but the dark-eyed brunette was not the hard-driving piranha he’d expected. He’d heard all about the big city journalist in town to take over the paper while Jig Baker was in Peru living his dream of participating in a full-scale university-sponsored archaeological dig.
Jig had said she was a career-minded divorcée with a young daughter. He warned Jack she was used to doing things differently in Chicago and might make some changes during her tenure. So be prepared.
But nothing could have prepared him for these two. Even Mrs. Boswell had failed to mention that the granddaughter she’d recommended for the job was a striking beauty. She’d bragged about her great-granddaughter, but never said she was such a precocious little angel.
Jack moonlighted as the paper’s sports editor and roving reporter, so he was curious about the new boss. He satisfied that curiosity by watching her openly as she maneuvered the winding road. Word around town, she was a hard-nosed newspaperwoman. But from where he sat, her nose looked anything but hard.
In fact, everything about the big city hotshot looked enticingly soft. Touch-me-and-see-for-yourself-soft. She had peachy pale skin and thick-lashed golden brown eyes. Full lips the color of his mother’s coral tea roses. Her long brown hair was twisted into a gravity-defying arrangement skewered by two ebony chopsticks.
Jack was thrown off balance by the sudden urge to reach over and slip out those silly sticks, just to watch the whiskey-colored mass tumble down. He managed to resist temptation but had an unbidden image of classy Ellin Bennett wearing her little girl’s endearingly fake tiara. And nothing else.
The Santa suit suddenly became too warm for comfort. A master of restraint, he didn’t usually have such inappropriate thoughts about a woman he’d just met. But this one was having a profound effect on him…a very pleasant effect.
He couldn’t take his gaze off her. She looked more like a delicate old-fashioned cameo than the competitive workaholic Jig had described. Maybe the softness was part of her ensemble, to be shrugged on and off as occasion demanded. Like the creamy angora turtleneck and brown woolen slacks, the camel coat and expensive boots. He noted the delicate gold watch on her wrist and the little diamond studs in her earlobes. Tasteful, understated. And utterly feminine.
Jack smiled. They were definitely in for some changes. Watching this urbane beauty adapt to small-town living might very well be the most entertaining thing to happen in Washington for years. The thought of getting to know her better filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a kid waiting for Christmas himself.
“So, how’s Ida Faye doing?” Ellin’s feisty old grandmother was one of his favorite people. He’d visited her several times since her discharge from the hospital and knew she wasn’t happy being “incarcerated” in the nursing home. His Aunt Lorella made sure she received the best of care.
“You know my grandmother?” Ellin’s puzzled look was replaced by a smug knowing one. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. Santa knows—”
“Everything!” Jack and Lizzie called out in unison.
“Right.” Ellin flipped on the turn signal and pulled into the nursing home drive.
“I warned her not to shovel snow at her age.” Jack hoped he would be as spry as Mrs. Boswell in his eightieth winter. “But you know Ida. Always helping everyone.”
Ellin parked near the door and switched off the engine. “Well, this time she helped herself to a broken hip and a doctor-ordered stay at Shady Acres.”
She dropped the car keys in her coat pocket, opened the back door, unsnapped the child restraint and lifted the little girl out. Pudgy bounced around their feet.
Jack hoisted the big sack of presents over his shoulder in true Santa style. He looked down when he felt a small mittened hand clutch his fingers. Lizzie held on tightly, her mouth curved in an impish grin, the phony crown askew atop her long blond curls. Those blue eyes could melt the frostiest snowman’s heart.
Jack squeezed her hand. Reaching into his pack, he produced a large brass schoolhouse bell and knelt to her level. “Can you help me, Lizzie?”
“You need my help?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, I do. Can you ring this special bell to let everyone know Santa Claus is coming?”
Her face lit up at the prospect. “I sure can.”
Holding the bell reverently in one small hand, she clutched his fingers with the other. Jack suspected this would be a day little Lizzie Bennett would remember forever.
Maybe he would, too.
Together, they walked up the sidewalk to Shady Acres Care Center. Ellin held the door open by leaning against it, her arms folded across her chest.
He winked at her as he passed, enjoying her startled response. But she played it cool. Clearly not a woman who backed down from a challenge, she didn’t blush or glance away or look flustered. He liked the idea that she would give as good as she got. Staring boldly back at him, she wore the bemused expression of a smart, savvy woman who has been there, done everything, but had finally encountered something she simply could not understand.
Jack Madden had never been so intrigued.
Chapter Two
Ellin and Lizzie entered the winter-bright dayroom ahead of Santa, whose arrival was heralded by the little girl’s enthusiastic bell-ringing. A fragrant Douglas fir in the corner was as laden with ornaments, tinsel and lights as the red-draped refreshment table was with treats. Elderly residents wearing holly corsages and expectant expressions sat in easy chairs and wheelchairs arranged in a circle around the perimeter.
Ellin smiled and waved when she spotted her grandmother. Ida Faye sat in a wheelchair on the far side of the room, her knobby, arthritic hands clutched in her lap. She had a red scarf around her neck and a colorful afghan over her legs. Her thin white hair was carefully parted, held in place by plastic barrettes like Lizzie’s.
Ellin was struck anew by how small and frail she’d become since the accident. Celebrating her eightieth Christmas this year, she wouldn’t have many more. Due to her parents’ divorce, Ellin hadn’t spent much time with her paternal grandmother over the years and hoped it wasn’t too late to make up for lost time. It was important for Lizzie to know her great-grandmother, to feel connected to her family. But it might never have happened if circumstances had been different.
Ellin worried that by leaving Chicago she’d taken the coward’s way out. That coming to this remote little town meant she was running away from her problems instead of solving them. But then she saw how Ida Faye’s face lit up when they walked in, and she knew there were things more important than her career. What had seemed like a fall from grace now seemed more like a blessing in disguise. Only a fool would turn down a sudden, if undeserved, gift of fate.
She and Lizzie lavished Ida Faye with big hugs and damp kisses. Then Ellin deposited Pudgy in his mistress’s lap. He stood on his hind legs to lick her pale, wrinkled cheek.
“I’m so glad ya’ll could come. And thank you for bringing this old rascal to see me. I’ve missed him so.”
“He’s missed you, too.” Ellin helped Lizzie out of her coat and mittens, noting the smiles her outfit generated.
When it came to fashion statements, her only child believed individuality was the way to go. Today she’d insisted on wearing her pink ballet slippers and a puffy-sleeved, full-length princess dress constructed of frilled layers of pink and purple chiffon. According to Lizzie, it wasn’t just a Halloween costume. It was appropriate party attire.
“Okay now, that’s enough, Pudge.” Ida Faye settled the dog down for a petting session. Then she gave Ellin a wide, denture-baring grin. She whispered behind her hand so Lizzie wouldn’t hear. “Ain’t that Jack a honey?”
“Who?” Someone brought a chair and Ellin scooted it close. Lizzie settled on the floor at her feet, Santa’s bell in her lap.
“Jack Madden,” Ida Faye said. “The young fella playin’ Santy Claus. You oughta know him, you came in with him.”
“Oh, so that’s his name.” It sounded familiar. Where had she heard it before? Ah, yes. The owner of the newspaper had mentioned him. “He works for the paper, right?”
Ida Faye nodded. “Yep. But that’s just a sideline. His main profession is schoolteaching. He’s good as gold, our Jack is.”
“Hmm.” Ellin settled back and watched the ersatz Santa work the room while an old lady in a bright red dress pounded “Here Comes Santa Claus” from an out-of-tune piano.
He belted out several rounds of hearty ho, ho, hos, clasping his king-size belly until it shook like the proverbial bowl full of jelly. Then he swung his heavy sack to the floor and strode around the dayroom, greeting the old folks by name and inquiring if they’d been good boys and girls. He shook their blue-veined hands, kissed their blushing cheeks and wiped their sentimental tears.
Then he passed out the gifts Ida Faye said he’d inspired his high school students to collect and wrap. Volunteers and family members helped the elderly residents open them to find the warm socks, slippers, stuffed animals, colorful posters, and bottles of lotion and aftershave inside. Then they passed out sweets and diabetic treats along with cups of holiday punch.
Lizzie tugged on Ellin’s slacks. “What is it, honey?”
Her little face scrunched up. “I didn’t get a present.”
“That’s okay. We’re just guests at this party.”
“But Santa said.”
“I know, but—”
“Hey, princess. Did you think I’d forgotten about you?” Santa Claus, alias Jack Madden, handed Lizzie a small bundle wrapped in red tissue paper.
“Oh, no,” she denied. “I knew you would never forget me. I’m your helper, right?”
“You sure are. Aren’t you going to open your present?”
She eagerly ripped off the paper to find a floppy dog with droopy ears and large button eyes. “Oh, my very own puppy,” she squealed.
“Do you like him?” Jack asked.
She hugged the toy to her chest. “I love him. I’ve been needing a doggie just like this.”
Ellin shook her head. Yeah, right. Lizzie’s stuffed animal collection easily filled three or four packing boxes.
“I’m glad to hear that. See that nice lady over there?” Jack pointed discreetly to a sad-looking old woman perched alone on a vinyl-coated sofa.
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t she look like she needs to see your doggie? I bet it would make her smile if you went over there and showed it to her.”
“Okay.” Eager to do Santa’s bidding, Lizzie scampered off. Sure enough, the woman’s expression was transformed from sadness to delight at the sight of the little girl in the froufrou dress and tiara. Lizzie smiled shyly as a trembling hand reached out to caress her golden curls.
“That was quite a performance, Mr. Madden,” Ellin said with a grudging smile. “You make an entirely credible Santa Claus.”
