It's That Time of Year

“Would you mind if my daughter, Emily, talked to you for a minute?” she asked Sam, hope etched into her face. “She’s still upset about the fire.”

Melanie’s heart squeezed as Sam said, “Of course.”

The woman went to get Emily. The girl seemed painfully shy, barely looking at Santa. She clutched the hem of her mother’s jacket in a death grip. But when Sam patted his knee, the girl scrambled up into his lap. So much for her shyness.

“And what is your name?”

“Emily Farley. I’m seven years old.”

“Have you been a good girl, Emily?”

Emily’s eyes grew wide, and she looked to her mother for affirmation. Her mother nodded. “Yes.”

Sam took her hand and held it. “Santa knows that you had a fire at your house. That must have scared you.”

Tears glistened in Emily’s eyes as she nodded, and Melanie’s heart ached for the little girl.

He patted her head. “Santa knows you were very brave,” Sam said gently. “Your house will be ready soon. And it’ll be nice and special and all new just for you.” Sam held up a tissue. “Close your eyes.”

Emily closed her eyes, and Sam blotted them carefully with a tissue. “Now smile for Santa.”

The child’s grin lit up like lights on a tree.

Melanie smiled. Sam had handled the situation perfectly. Melanie warmed up to him a little more.

Sam smoothed back the little girl’s hair. “Emily, since you’ve been such a good girl, what would you like for Christmas?”

“A Katie Ann doll and the Katie Ann town house. And some clothes for Katie Ann. And Katie Ann’s boat and trailer, too.”

Emily’s mother took her little hand. “Sweetheart, I’m sure Santa will do what he can.” As her words faded she looked away, wiping her eyes.

Sam held the little girl’s chin in a gloved hand. “Santa always tries to make Christmas wishes come true. Now, why don’t you ask Kyle to give you another candy cane.”

Emily’s mother shook her head and sniffed. It was obvious that she couldn’t afford all those toys.

Sam took her arm and moved her away from Kyle and Emily, who were peeling candy canes and chattering like long-lost pals.

“Mrs. Farley.” Sam handed her a tissue and winked. “There’s no crying on Grinch night.”

The woman chuckled and wiped her eyes. “It’s just…it’s been so hard since the fire, and I want to give Emily an especially nice Christmas.”

Melanie’s stomach churned. She knew exactly how Mrs. Farley felt.

“Have faith, Mrs. Farley,” Sam said. “As I told Emily, Santa always tries to make Christmas wishes come true. That means yours, too.”

Mrs. Farley was smiling as she turned and walked over to Emily. Sam LeDoux had put that smile on her face with his encouraging words.

Melanie wiped at her own eyes with the tail of her red wool scarf, horrified when he looked her way.

He gave her a wink and a smile, and she found herself smiling back, lost once more in his twinkling blue eyes.

When was she going to come to her senses and realize that Sam LeDoux wasn’t really Santa Claus? There was no way he could make things better for her. There were no magic words he could say, nothing he could do to bringKyle’s father back.

Sure, she was starting to like some things about him, but what did that matter? Her “best Christmas ever” plan didn’t include Sam LeDoux. She needed to focus on that goal and not let him distract her.

Sam looked at her with a smile that made her heart race—a smile that was far too sexy for Santa Claus. And Melanie knew that for better or worse, she was already distracted.

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