Dear Santa Read online

  It wasn’t a stretch that she might run into the dark-haired man from the Crabby Coffee Pot again—as soon as tonight—with all of the guests her sister always entertained at her Holiday Warm-up party. Angela might even stay for the whole party this year. She put the covered dish down and ran back into her room to change into something a little dressier.

  Chapter Two

  Dear Santa,

  I’m sorry I told you to put my presents under the tree in my room this year. Daddy said that was bossy. I didn’t mean to be bossy.

  You can do whatever you want and it’s okay with me.

  Happy Thanksgiving,

  Chrissy

  At eleven o’clock Angela stood at the front door of her sister’s house carrying Momma Grace’s large casserole dish. The aqua Pyrex with the gold starburst was as precious as the recipe itself. She gave the door a one-two knock then balanced the dish against her hip as she opened the door to let herself in.

  The huge wreath flopped against the door as she nudged it open with her knee. “Happy Thanksgiving.” Angela kicked the door closed behind her and headed straight for the kitchen. A baritone woof sounded from somewhere in her wake.

  “Aunt Angela!” Chrissy squealed as she came flying across the room, wrapping her arms around Angela’s hips.

  “Hey, Chrissy,” Angela said. “Let me put this down so I can get a real hug.”

  The tiny five-year-old bounced on tiptoes. Fat orange-and- brown rickrack ribbons bobbed from her ponytail, just like the ones Momma Grace used to put in Angela’s and Marie’s hair when they were kids.

  Angela put the dish on the kitchen counter, then swept her niece into her arms. “Chrissy, you look bee-yooo-tiful.” Chrissy clung to her like a koala bear as Angela twirled around.

  “More, Auntie Angela. More!” Chrissy cried out between fits of giggles with her hands reaching toward the ceiling.

  Marie stepped up beside them, shaking her head. “Put her down before you make her toss her cookies. Literally. She’s been sampling treats all morning.” Marie had a way of losing her patience when she was busy, leaving Angela feeling like a scolded child.

  Angela put Chrissy back down, and then gave her niece a boop with her fingertip right on the end of her nose. “Mommy is just no fun.”

  “You’re always fun,” Chrissy squealed.

  Marie’s voice was steady. “Mommy is worried your auntie forgot to bring the coffee.”

  “Did not,” Angela said. “It’s in the car. I couldn’t carry everything in all at once. That bag was heavy.”

  Chrissy sped off to the living room. “Daddy, Auntie Angela didn’t blow off. She’s here.”

  Marie’s face went red.

  Angela grabbed a cookie and leaned against the center island. Brad’s success as a contractor had blessed her sister with a kitchen any television chef would drool over. Not that Marie did all that much cooking, but she sure did love to entertain.

  Angela lifted a brow, waiting for Marie to explain Chrissy’s comment. But she didn’t. “So, was it you or Brad who thought I’d be a no-show? We just talked this morning.”

  “I didn’t think you’d completely blow us off.”

  “Really?” Angela knew that tone. Her sister had an opinion about everything.

  Marie said, “Okay, so I might be a little surprised you didn’t decide to open the store today.”

  “Why would you even think that?”

  “Because you said there was a chance you might have to close the store for good, and Christmas Galore is open.”

  Angela felt her blood pressure rise. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered it. “I don’t care if every other store in the nation is open. We’ve never done it, and I never will. Thanksgiving is a day for families to spend together.” She unclenched her fists. She was angry. Not so much at Marie as she was the situation. “You’re the one always saying I do nothing but work. So I make a decision that is about family and you judge me for that too. I can’t win with you.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry. You’re right.” Marie walked over and hugged her. “I’m glad you’re here. If you hadn’t shown, I’d never have lived it down.” Marie stepped back, swung her dish towel over her shoulder and folded her arms. “But in Brad’s defense, it’s not like you haven’t been dodging us since the store’s been in trouble. And I still say it’s not a bad thing if you do close.”

  “You’re right. I’m guilty of not wanting to talk about that stuff with you, but it’s my problem. Not yours. And I’ve never missed a Thanksgiving.” Angela took another cookie from the tray and rearranged the others to hide the open spot. “I know you don’t understand my commitment to the store, but this isn’t easy.”

  “I didn’t say it was. I just said it wasn’t a bad thing.”

  “I don’t want to let the store go under.” Angela swallowed, the lump in her throat making it hard to get that last cookie down.

  “Of course you don’t. Heart of Christmas is your whole existence,” Marie said. “Except for one serious relationship, you’ve given that store one hundred percent of your heart and time.”

  Marie hadn’t even used his name, yet Angela felt that familiar pang of hurt. She and Jimmy had had their whole lives planned here in Pleasant Sands until he got that job offer in Texas. Her family had just buried Momma Grace, and there was no way she could leave Heart of Christmas behind. But he’d already made up his mind to take the job. Sometimes she still wondered what would have happened had she gone with him. But she hadn’t, and when he’d shown up the following summer with his new bride and baby she’d chalked it up to “not meant to be.”

  “At least the store has always been there for me. Can’t say that about Jimmy,” Angela replied.

  “And now the store is going to break your heart too.”

  Those words hurt like a slap to the face.

  “You’ve got to quit dragging this out, sis. You’re going to end up losing everything you’ve got trying to keep that place open.”

  Angela knew Marie meant well, and she was right. Angela had taken a loan against the beach house, a risky move.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve decided to make my final decision this weekend. Black Friday sales are always an indicator of how the rest of the season is going to play out. If we don’t pull off a great day, I’m going to close.”

  Marie stood there. Blinking.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? Isn’t this what you’ve wanted?”

  Marie’s brows pulled together. “Oh, Angela. I’m sorry, I’m glad to hear you’re finally dealing with facts and reality, but I know this is killing you. That being said, they say there’s magic in Christmas. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.” Marie slid Angela’s dressing into the oven. “Something new is going to come your way. Something even better.”

  Angela didn’t dare say it out loud, but she was praying for magic too—a lot of it. She’d give anything to not have to close, but that didn’t change the fact that Heart of Christmas was in trouble—serious like might-have-to-lock-the-doors-at-the-end-of-the-month trouble. At least Marie hadn’t chosen this moment to give her another speech about how Angela didn’t have a legal obligation to keep Heart of Christmas up and running. Marie was never going to understand her connection to the store.

  She’d never been as close with Momma Grace as Angela had been.

  And for the seven years since Momma Grace had died, Heart of Christmas had afforded her a comfortable lifestyle, even if it hadn’t left her much time for anything else.

  “I’ll go get the coffee,” Angela offered, happy for the escape and a moment to pull herself together.

  Rover, the 150-pound Newfoundland who still thought he was a twenty-pound pup, trotted behind her out to the car and back. That dog had as much education as some people. Puppy school. Obedience school three times. A private trainer. He’d even been shipped off to boarding school twice. He’d been a slow learner, but now he was a well-behaved, and giant, part of the family.


  He nudged Angela from behind as she walked inside.

  Making her way to the kitchen, Rover was at her heels. “It’s just coffee beans, boy.” She placed the bag on the end of the long island, the only spot that wasn’t lined with cookies, cakes, pastries and pies.

  Angela patted Rover on the head absently as she watched Marie hustle through the kitchen, moving pots from the big stainless steel commercial range to the quartz countertop.

  “What can I do to help?” Angela asked. “Want me to start the coffee?” She eyed the huge commercial brewer. It didn’t look too complicated.

  “That would be great. The water’s already in it. Just put five of those scoops in the thingamabob on top. Then press start. It’s ready to go.”

  Angela turned her back on the huge Sub-Zero glass-front refrigerator, which just reiterated the differences between herself and her sister. If Angela owned that refrigerator it would be so cluttered it would probably autodial Molly Maid to come clean itself. Marie’s was as orderly as the local high-end market, and not one fingerprint on the thing. With a five-year-old in the house, how was that even possible?

  Angela opened the coffee and began scooping out heaping doses. The grounds were dark and moist, and the aroma so fresh that just the smell gave her a burst of energy.

  After their quiet little turkey dinner, the dishes would be cleared and things would quickly shift to Holiday Warm-up mode and the doorbell would start ringing.

  Angela was exhausted just thinking about all the work her sister put into these holiday parties. From flower arrangements and door wreaths to a table setting that Martha Stewart would ooh and ah over, even the most pretentious people in this town wouldn’t find a thing to complain about.

  At least for the next hour it would be just Marie, Brad and Chrissy. And Rover.

  Marie wiped her hands on her apron. “Would you tell Brad and Chrissy that dinner will be ready in ten minutes? We’re just waiting on the rolls.”

  Angela knew Marie well enough to know that she just wanted her out of the way so she walked down the hall to the great room, where Brad was reclined in front of the big-screen television with Chrissy playing on the floor quietly with a Christmas book.

  “About ten more minutes,” Angela said.

  “Good. I’m ready.” Chrissy rubbed her tummy. “I’ve been hungry for turkey all year.”

  “Me too,” Brad said. “Only I’ve been hungry for turkey and stuffing.”

  Angela loved that Brad was as crazy about the family recipe as they were, even if he did call it stuffing. Momma Grace had always said stuffing was the cornbread mixture you stuffed in the bird while it baked. Dressing was for the good stuff and deserved its own pan.

  Oyster dressing wasn’t everyone’s thing, but fresh oysters from here off the coast made all the difference. “I made an extra-big batch, just for you.”

  “Thanks. How’ve you been, Angela?”

  “Good. Busy with the store.”

  “You’ve been scarce around here lately.” He nodded, as if waiting for more.

  She shrugged. “You know me. Work. Work. Work.”

  Brad laid down the remote. “I saw you did some advertising in the local paper for Black Friday. I’ve never known you to advertise. It looked good.”

  “Yes. Well, I’ve never done the Snow Valley before. I wanted to be sure the word got out.”

  “But you’re not opening early on Black Friday?”

  “No. Our regular store hours give everyone plenty of time to shop. And now they can play in the snow too.”

  “Hope it works out for you. Your sister’s been worried.” He looked a little worried too.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I have no doubt about that. If it’s one thing I know firsthand, it’s that you Carson girls are smart and tough.”

  Marie walked into the room. “You’ve got that right. We’re tough as they come.” She glanced toward her sister. “A little hardheaded too.”

  Brad got out of his chair. “You’re not going to trick me into agreeing with you.” He put his hand out to Chrissy. “I’m pretty smart too. Come on, baby girl. I bet dinner is ready.”

  “It is. I was just coming to get you.” They all walked into the dining room and sat down to eat. Chrissy said grace and then Brad passed the tray of perfectly sliced turkey around the table.

  Angela had seen Brad with the electric knife before; she was certain this was not his doing, and Marie never could carve a turkey. She had a sneaky suspicion her sister had bought a pre-cooked, pre-sliced bird. Probably paid a pretty penny for it too. Actually, the way everything was set in pretty chafing dishes, Angela wasn’t sure that the whole meal hadn’t been catered, except for the oyster dressing she’d brought. Momma Grace’s old Pyrex looked so out of place in the lineup.

  Not that she’d complain.

  She’d never baked a turkey in her life and she was perfectly fine letting her sister run with the big holiday hosting duties. That was just one more thing to be thankful for today.

  With a small spoonful of everything on her plate, plus a good-size dollop of the oyster dressing, she wasn’t halfway through eating before she was feeling full. “We could’ve fed four more families with all of this food. We’ve barely put a dent in this extravagant spread.”

  “Everything is so good, babe,” Brad said to Marie.

  “I think we’re going to be eating turkey for a lot of days,” Chrissy said, putting her palm against her forehead. “Forever, maybe.”

  “There’s not one of these things that we could do without.”

  “Definitely not without the stuffing,” Brad said with a big smile toward Angela. “Or the yeast rolls. Or gravy.”

  “Collards,” Angela interjected.

  Marie surveyed the table. “And you have to have mashed potatoes, even though there is dressing and sweet potato casserole. It’s just the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “I know, and it’s all so good,” Angela said.

  “And cranberry sauce,” Chrissy said, raising her fork in the air like a scepter.

  “On the bright side,” Marie said, “you’re taking leftovers home to eat.”

  “Fine by me,” Angela said.

  Brad stuffed another forkful of turkey into his mouth.

  Marie cleared her throat, and reached for another roll. “Brad was telling me that he saw Jeremy yesterday.”

  Angela stopped chewing. Jeremy worked for her at Heart of Christmas. She had no idea where this conversation was headed, but she was pretty sure she was getting ready to lose her appetite.

  “He said,” Marie continued, “that even your Saturday holiday craft classes aren’t filling up anymore.”

  “They’ve been smaller. That’s true.” She sipped her water, hoping Marie would let it go.

  “Used to be the locals counted on your year-round classes. It was something affordable and fun to do with the kids on the weekend,” Marie said.

  “People get busy,” Angela said. “You haven’t brought Chrissy to one in months.” The words came out more like a bite. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “Well. I…” Marie struggled for an excuse. “Yes. You’re right. People get busy.”

  That had shut her sister up, but she knew what the point of the conversation was and her sister was right. There’d been a time when Angela had to turn people away because the classes were full. This Saturday she was offering a class to make reindeer ornaments from reclaimed corks donated by the vineyard two towns over that produced the best darn muscadine wine around.

  Brad looked amused by the conversation, like he enjoyed seeing Marie get put in her place. For once. “You and Chrissy should go to that class, Marie.”

  Angela could teach it with her eyes closed. It was a kid favorite so she’d scheduled the class expecting a full house. Plus, parents filled their buggies with holiday gifts while the kids crafted. But she only had six people sign up for the class this time. The past year there’d been a steady decline in sales and
the classes that used to supplement them.

  Marie glared at him. Clearly she had other things to do.

  “No,” Angela said. “It’s fine. It’ll be what it’s meant to be. Besides, how many ornaments does a person need?” Marie had thrown that in her face the last time they’d talked about this. Angela really hoped it was the last time they’d discuss it.

  She picked up the basket of still-warm rolls and passed them toward Brad. “Roll?”

  “Definitely.” He grabbed one and passed the basket to Marie.

  Marie reached for his hand, and then Chrissy’s. “I’m so thankful for our family.”

  They ate quietly until Chrissy piped up and asked to be excused.

  “Yes, you may.” Brad folded his napkin and placed it on the table. “I’m pretty much done too. Why don’t you girls catch up? I’ll clear all the dishes.”

  “Thanks, babe,” Marie said.

  Angela wished she’d offered to clear the table. That would’ve been better than getting the third-degree from Marie, because she could feel it coming.

  Marie said, “Sis, what do you think the odds are that things will be okay for the store?”

  “We’ll know tomorrow.”

  “I know. You said that, but what’s your gut telling you?”

  Angela heard Brad clanging around in the kitchen. She lowered her voice. “You know it’s been struggling.”

  “Are you behind financially?”

  “Things are tight since Christmas Galore opened. We’ve definitely seen a decline in sales. I didn’t expect them to be competition for us since the only real thing Christmas about their store is the name of it. It’s a stretch to call it a Christmas store at all, but—”

  “Well, they might not be just Christmas, but they do have a lot of Christmas stuff,” Marie said.

  “It’s just a clever marketing ploy riding on Christmas’s coattails. From what I understand they have sand chairs to sunscreen and every other beach whim under the sun.” Angela shrugged.

  “You haven’t been over to Christmas Galore to check it out?” Marie asked.

  “No. I have not.” Angela snapped her head around. Did her sister really think she’d step foot in that place? “Have you?”