A Baby In His Stocking

Upon seeing her, her father ran his hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair in what looked like a gesture of relief, then grinned at the man in the red velvet suit who was standing at the bottom of the Santa Station’s off-ramp. “Now, Santa, here’s Shea. She’ll explain why you can’t quit.”

She frowned at Mack. “You look far too happy to see me. Don’t be.”

To her irritation, her dad seemed to grasp she was referring to Jared and grinned even wider, as though he was quite pleased with himself. With a glance at the crowd, he said jovially, “So my Christmas present made it to your doorstep, did it?”

“I’m returning it.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t.”

“I want to see Santa!” one of the boys yelled suddenly from the line. He was immediately shushed by his mother but she was too late. A clamor went up from more restless kids.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Shea promised her father, pushing wayward wisps of black hair behind her ear. “Go talk to Jared. He’s waiting in your office.” Looking thankful for the opportunity to escape, her father turned away. Before he could scoot entirely out of sight, she caught his arm and added, “Get rid of him, Dad.”

One more devilish grin, and her father was gone, leaving every muscle in her body tight with tension. With that look, Mack would probably be inviting Jared for Christmas dinner, and she would be the turkey.

At least Mack wasn’t stressed. If he was stressed, then she would have to worry.

Santa started sneezing again. Shifting her stiff shoulders, Shea began damage control and tried not to think about Jared and their pending divorce or how she really should tell him about their baby—or what, exactly, her father had in store for them. Whatever it was, Mack wouldn’t have a chance to carry his plan through because Jared was one Christmas present she was never unwrapping.

Chapter Two

In the end, nothing—not talking, not cajoling, not out and out bribing—could convince Santa to stay. Dog tired, upset for the disappointed kids who had to leave without seeing Santa and unwilling to face Jared again, Shea decided to postpone the confrontation she’d planned with her father and head home to put up her feet for a while.

Definitely not wanting to think about Jared’s being in the same town with her, as she drove the short distance home, Shea tried to focus on how she was going to find a new Santa. Mack had volunteered for the job, but as his daughter and the store’s manager, she’d already vetoed that idea. Dealing with children all day would undoubtedly wear Mack out.

Instead, she’d given her father the job of finding another Santa, which had proven difficult the first time, what with the word out about the practical joker. Really, she had no idea what they could do now for a Santa.

Sighing, she turned into the backyard driveway, got out and opened the garage door. Her heart sped up as she spotted Mack’s truck in the second slot in the garage. He’d come home, too. If he’d brought Jared...

He hadn’t. She found Mack all alone at the desk in his study, paying the bills under the glow of a lamp that had been a present from her mom a long time ago. The lampshade was yellowing, but it still had the gaily swinging fringe at the bottom, and her father refused to get rid of it. Shea had longed for a marriage like that, where the caring and the good memories never stopped. She’d almost had it—until she’d wanted more than Jared could give. Give emotionally anyway, she corrected inwardly. He had given her the baby.

“I hope your playmate has gone home,” she said, setting her purse on a side table.

“You’re sounding more like your mother every day,” Mack said, grinning up at her.

“That’s good, right?” Leaning over, she kissed him on the forehead, then lowered herself into her father’s black leather easy chair. “But compliments and evading the subject will get you nowhere.”

“Oh, we can get to Jared in a minute.” Waving his hand in dismissal, Mack swiveled in his chair to face her. “First, the most important thing—how did it turn out with old Santa?”

She sighed deeply, which said it all.

“You think it was the Grinch again, too, huh?” Mack asked.

Nodding, she kicked off her loafers and buried her stockinged toes in the golden rug. “It had to be. We found a container of some of that gag-gift sneezing powder we sell, and the nearest I can figure out, it was sprinkled on Mr. Whitney’s Santa beard. As soon as he stopped sneezing, he said it was obvious someone had a warped sense of humor at Denton’s, and he wasn’t spending another minute waiting around for the next joke, ’cause they weren’t funny.”

The corners of Mack’s mouth curled slightly upward. “I always said that old geezer didn’t have a sense of humor.”

“Dad!” she scolded, but she was smiling, too. “Just remember, I don’t want you to get stressed out over this.” With faked optimism, she added, “We’ll find another Santa, and we’ll get that Grinch.”

“Dam tootin’.” Her father’s grin seemed awfully smug and self-assured to Shea. “I’ve got it all under control.”

“You do?” Her eyes narrowed as he rolled his chair back to his desk, picked up his pen and resumed writing in his check ledger. “How is that possible—for you to have found a solution already?”

Her father turned just enough to grin at her again. The twinkling in his eyes seemed magical, with an extra sparkle that came from goodness only knew where. She hadn’t seen him looking this happy in weeks. But instead of being comforted, the twinkle, along with his almost Cheshire-cat look, made her feel wary.

And then she knew. She actually knew. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. Her mouth fell open. “You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I would.” Mack returned to his checkbook. “I’m sure Jared will help us find the Grinch.”

Nerves began jumping in protest all through her body. Pushing herself out of the chair, Shea walked the length of the room and back again, shaking her head in disbelief. To have to face Jared for the next week or so as the divorce crept up on them like her own personal Ghost of Christmas Future—no thanks. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t.

“Jared won’t stay here,” she told her father’s back in a soft tone. Jared wouldn’t want to face her every day until the divorce went through, either. “Has he actually said yes?”

“Well, to be honest,” Mack said, still scribbling, “I haven’t asked him yet. I told him to get something to eat since I had to pay some bills first before I talked to him. He’s due here shortly.” Pausing, Mack glanced up at her, then gave her an amused stare. “From the way you’re looking at me, you want either to change my mind or wring my neck. Have at it.”

“Dad,” she said, her voice serious, “this is not a joke. This is my life. You are not going to ask him to stay in Quiet Brook. I don’t want him here.”

“You might not, but the store needs him,” Mack said. “He’s a private detective, remember? When he finds the Grinch, all our problems will be solved.”

Shea closed her eyes. Of course she remembered. Jared had quit the force when her father had found out that Jared’s dream was to open his own detective agency and had lent him the money. He’d already paid back the loan shortly before Christmas last year, and that had been one of the times she’d actually seen him celebrate something. He’d been so happy.

She sighed. It was time to put her foot down where her father was concerned. “You aren’t harboring some hopes that he and I will mend our differences, are you?”

“Even if it is Christmas,” Mack replied, then paused to lick the flap of an envelope, “heaven forbid I should waste my time wishing for that kind of miracle.”

She knew what he meant Feeling very tired, she sank back into the easy chair.

“Really, Shea, who better to find this troublemaker and give us back our storybook Christmas than Quiet Brook’s former hero?”

He was referring to the time when Jared had caught their store’s thief. Even so... “Jared and storybook Christmas do not belong in the same sentence. He finds Christmas painful.”

Mack frowned. “He told you that?”

“Let’s just say he made it clear that he wasn’t interested in Christmas trees or Christmas Eve dinners.” Or traditions or life in a small town.

“Maybe if he had all the fun of a Christmas in Quiet Brook, he would be,” Mack said almost gently, then rose to carry his mail out of the room.

Shea doubted that. Jared had already told her he just didn’t see the purpose of going through it all because Christmas was for kids—which he never wanted to have.

But now he would have to face that, willing or not, his child was on the way. She stared, unseeing, at the doorway. How on earth was she going to break it to him? And what would he do? Run?

“A candy cane for your thoughts,” her father said, startling her. Taking the sweet, she twirled it around in her fingers but didn’t tell him what she’d been thinking in return. She couldn’t tell Mack about the baby until she told Jared. Because Mack would ask if she had. Boy, would he ask. If she procrastinated, her father might even think it was his personal responsibility to tell Jared himself. He was that kind of man.

She couldn’t let that happen. No matter how things were between her and Jared, the news that he was going to be a father after all had to come from her, face-to-face. She supposed she would have to tell him while he was here now, however she dearly wanted to tell Mack he was going to be a grandfather as a Christmas present, and Christmas was less than two weeks away.

“So, Shea, I can count on you working with Jared to find the Grinch?”

Working with Jared? Wasn’t it bad enough the man was going to be in the same town? She gazed at her father, then down at the rug to hide her confusion. Could she be around the cool, indifferent man Jared had become for days, knowing that he didn’t care enough about her to try to change for the sake of love?

It hurt too much, and she didn’t want that hurt intermingling with her joy about the baby. She drew in a long breath. “I don’t want him here, Dad.”

“Hmm,” Mack said, his weathered forehead wrinkling. “Well, sweetheart, I’m going to have to overrule you here. You might manage the store, but I still own it. If you don’t cooperate with me, I’ll just lay you off for the whole time Jared’s here. Then you won’t have to deal with him.”

“So you’re saying if I cooperate, I have to be around Jared, and if I don’t cooperate, I lose my job?” Her mouth pursed as she was caught between amusement and just a little bit of exasperation at how easily he had boxed her in. “I hate you when you act like a boss.” Only half-teasing, she added, “And like an interfering old—”

“Keep it up,” Mack warned, “and I’ll lay you off indefinitely.”

Under her breath, she groaned. She couldn’t lose this job. She was all set to give her child the perfect life she’d had growing up in Quiet Brook—-except for the father part of it, she guessed. But more important than that, she couldn’t let her father fire her because he would take her place. If he resumed the full workload she was now handling, he might end up like her grandfather had—clutching his chest, collapsing and dying before her eyes, and there’d been nothing she could do to help him. She couldn’t let that happen.

“If you really think he can get rid of this Grinch, who am I to ruin Christmas for everyone?” She shrugged her shoulders and then gave Mack a soft smile. Since she was manager, all she really would have to do to avoid Jared was to delegate. Issue him his orders at the beginning of the day, then follow up later. With any luck, she shouldn’t have to be around him more than once or twice a day until he found the Grinch.

She just hoped that was as easily done as thought. As she unwrapped the candy cane, she gave a sideways glance out the window—still no Jared—and then glanced at her father.

“You’re awfully quiet suddenly,” she said.

“I was just thinking,” Mack started slowly. “Maybe you could use some of that Christmas spirit of yours to convince Jared to play Santa. It would give the two of you something to do while you watch for the Grinch to reappear. Who knows, it might even be good for him.”

Jared playing Santa all day, seeing and relearning the joy and wonder of the holiday through the eyes of children? The idea brought a twinge of hope to Shea’s heart, and she put the candy cane down beside her as she considered it.

If she could show Jared just what he’d been missing—the warmth, spirit and traditions of a Christmas in Quiet Brook as well as the fun—maybe she could get him to understand where she’d been coming from. He might even feel some of the things she did about close family ties and loving relationships, and then be in a better position to enjoy his child when it came.

Oh, she knew better than to expect he would change and want everything she did, and without that happening, she didn’t think they could rekindle the love they’d once shared. But his having a merry Christmas in Quiet Brook could really only help him—and her baby—couldn’t it?

She interlaced her fingers and gazed down at her tummy. With Jared wanting to let her go, it wouldn’t be easy, but inside her, a tiny bit of hope curled up right next to her baby somewhere under her heart.

Once Mack’s receptionist told Jared that his fatherin-law was waiting for him at his home, Jared headed back down the escalator, scowling at the thought of what his friend might really be up to by dragging him around Shea. He nodded grimly at any number of people who wished him a merry Christmas until finally he didn’t bother looking at anyone anymore. Christmas had ceased being important to him long ago—and right now, he had other things on his mind. Like Shea. Like letting her go for her own good.

Dodging three youngsters running amuck through the aisles, he bumped into a cardboard display of Santa. Both the decorations and the kids were grim reminders of how different he and Shea actually were, and he quickened his steps, needing to get out of the store and out of Quiet Brook. When he caught up with Mack, he wasn’t standing for any more delays. Friend or no friend, he was putting his foot down.

Someone tugged on the back of his jacket. Turning, he had to drop his gaze way down to look into the blue eyes of a little girl, maybe five years old, one of the kids whom he’d seen in Denton’s earlier that day. Her denim jacket looked a size too small and was much too thin for the weather outside. Her look of poverty reminded him of his past and made him even more eager to escape the store, which seemed to be bringing back too many memories for comfort ever since he’d set foot inside it.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing around at the almost empty aisles. Didn’t the kid have a mother?

“I know where Santa is.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jared knew that story. “The North Pole.”

“Honest. I know where the real Santa is.”

“Whatever you say.” He began to sweat. Even with his time on the force, he’d never quite gotten used to dealing with children. But before he could walk away, she latched onto his jacket with a grip that surprised him.

“You want me to take you to Santa? Then you can tell Mrs. Burroughs where he is, and she can ask him to sit at the Santa Station, and then she’ll be happy. I saw her almost cry before.”

Oh, that was just what he didn’t need to hear. He’d counted on Shea’s return to Quiet Brook making her happy—something she hadn’t been toward the end with him. The fact that she still wasn’t content was unsettling as hell because he still cared. He still cared a whole lot, and he knew the mental picture of her crying would come back to haunt him in the lonely hours of the night—it already had once or twice.

“Can you come see Santa with me?” The little sandy-haired girl smiled up at him with cajoling eyes.

The cold insides of Jared’s heart started melting. “No,” he said, careful to keep his tone soft as he gently disengaged her fingers from his jacket. “I can’t come with you anywhere. That wouldn’t be a good idea. You should go and find your mom and not talk to strangers.”

“But it’s okay to talk to you,” she said earnestly, dropping her hand to her side. “Santa said you were once a nice boy—you just grew up wrong.”

Raking his fingers through his thick brown hair as he stood there, Jared tried to figure out what exactly was going on. A stranger dressed up like Santa Claus talking to a little girl about him—and getting the information right? He decided he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to get that involved with the child, the Santa Claus, or with Shea for that matter. What he wanted was to get out of her store where he could practically smell the ginger of her perfume every time he walked down an aisle.

“I don’t want to see Santa,” he told the child firmly. “Run along and find your mother, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” With a wave, he turned and started walking away.

The girl was probably just lonely, he supposed. Her friends must have run off and she had no one to play with. But still, it wasn’t good that she was inviting complete strangers to take her someplace...not even in a small town that was quiet and peaceful most of the time.

Sighing, knowing he wouldn’t rest that evening unless he was sure she had someone to watch over her, Jared began to scan the aisles, looking for the little girl in the thin denim jacket. But she seemed to have disappeared.

At the service desk, he told the clerk about the child. She claimed not to have noticed any young girls by themselves. Everyone else he asked in the front and rear of the store said practically the same thing. Finally, he came to the conclusion the girl must have gone home, even though by the strange looks he’d been getting as he asked after her, he was starting to believe she didn’t exist. That she was a little fairy of some sort, in a fairy-tale town.

But he didn’t believe in fairy tales. Swearing under his breath, Jared headed toward the front again, passing the deserted Santa Station on his way out. Seeing it reminded him of Shea and her efforts to keep the Santa there. Apparently, she had lost. That didn’t bode well. She lived for Christmas, and with the store in trouble, this wasn’t looking to be a good one. He was used to that, but he knew it was going to be a disaster for Shea. He didn’t want that for her. Not along with their divorce in just over a week. But he couldn’t do a thing to help her. Not one damned thing.

Five minutes later, he was in his truck, driving toward Mack’s, his face tight with tension. Their marriage probably could have been salvaged if he’d given in about having a baby, but he couldn’t do that to a kid. He’d been an only child and his father had been a bitter, remote man. All Jared knew about fatherhood was what he’d learned from his own, and that wouldn’t be nearly enough. It hadn’t been for him.

From his mother’s death at childbirth, Jared had been brought up on the family farm. The only love he’d ever known was from his Aunt Ruthie, who came most days to cook and clean. But when he was nine, she’d died of some illness—he couldn’t remember what.

What he did recall, vividly, was clinging to her in the hospital, begging her not to leave him, that he didn’t want to be left alone with his father, with no one to love him. Seconds later, his father had pulled him away with a look of fear and sadness on his face that Jared had never forgotten because he had put it there by his words. And his father had said something that he still remembered.

“I’m sorry, boy. I did the best I knew how for you.”

After that, Jared had never mentioned anything about not wanting to be with his father again, and in return, his father had continued to practically ignore him. After a while, he guessed he had just stopped caring whether he had love in his life. Maybe he thought his father’s remoteness was love. It was all he knew.

And all he could give a child.

He’d done all right alone, and would again. He’d put himself through college with scholarships, and by the time he was twenty had his degree and a job on the Quiet Brook police force. He’d kept mainly to himself for years, dating occasionally, but mostly living without love and emotion, until that fateful day when he’d gone into Denton’s, saved Mack’s payroll and his life—and met Shea.

When he married her, he’d known that she was too much the sweet princess in a fairy tale and he’d been too much an emotional pauper for them to ever make it together. But he’d wanted, for once, to feel like the prince, so he’d ignored all his inner warnings that their relationship would never last, that he couldn’t give her what she needed most. He shouldn’t have. He’d only hurt her. For himself, he didn’t care, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the one woman who had loved him for a while with all her heart.

After parking his truck, he got out and walked up the steps to Mack’s door, where he paused to steel himself against seeing Shea again. He was doing the right thing by letting her go, he reminded himself. Without him, she could find someone who would make her happy and give her the family and the small-town life she craved. He just had to remind himself not to feel anything when he was around her, to revert back to the loner he’d always been.

Ready, he rapped on the front door. Mack answered it and led him into the study. Shea was sitting in the window seat, framed by Christmas decorations of holly and ivy. The house smelled of cinnamon and sugar and...Shea.

He found himself staring at her again, even though he knew better. Tendrils of her long black hair waved softly around her face, framing it as her eyes met his with an evergreen warmth that always filled his body with the familiar heat of longing. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that would ever change. He wanted her. He always would.

Her lips parted as she began to speak, but Mack beat her to it, his tone jovial. “Jared, thank you for coming.”

“You said it was urgent,” Jared reminded him, finally tearing his gaze away from Shea. “So what can I do for you, Mack?”

Seeing Jared standing there, rigid as a wooden soldier, Shea knew she had to carry through with the semblance of a plan she’d made while she waited for him to arrive. Every line of his face spelled loneliness. Jared needed to be given a chance to know the joys and pleasures of the season, to share in the Christmas spirit with others, and she was the only one who really still cared about him enough to persevere through the attempt. Since she already knew her marriage was over, she had nothing to lose by doing this, and her baby—and Jared—would have everything to gain.

“I assume Shea filled you in on what’s been happening at the store?” her father said to Jared.

“With the practical jokes?” He nodded. Waiting.

“I’d like you to find out who the Grinch is,” Mack explained. “We’ll pay you, of course.”

“You got me down here just to find a guy playing practical jokes?” Jared asked, sounding like he didn’t believe it—or considered it a waste of time. Shea winced.

Mack nodded affirmatively, and Shea added, “Please?”

Jared turned to her. “How would you two suggest someone go about finding this ‘Grinch’ of yours?”

“We figure the troublemaker is more than likely someone in the neighborhood.” She toyed with the drapes as if she hadn’t a care in the world and as if she didn’t really notice how steadily he’d been watching her. “Maybe even someone who doesn’t like small towns and who doesn’t have any Christmas spirit.”

That someone, Jared thought uncomfortably, sounded an awful lot like him.

“To get this guy,” Mack said, taking over, “you could keep an eye out for someone lurking around the Santa Station and try catching him in the act. You could also ask around and try to find out if anyone is upset with my store.”

“I’m not sure I understand why this is such a big problem,” Jared said, all too aware that this remark wasn’t going to set well with his friend. But he didn’t want to stay. “Couldn’t you just give out free candy or something to the kids at the Santa Station? You don’t really need anyone to play Santa Claus, do you?”