Chapter One
Within ten minutes of arriving at Winter Wonderland, Dave Hayland knew why Chris had pleaded to come. The place was awash with memories, and all of them centred on Matt.
“Dad, there’s the Wild Mouse. Papa loved that ride.”
“Ooh, Dad, can we go on the Waltzers? Papa promised I could when I was bigger.”
“Can we have bratwurst later? That was Papa’s favourite.”
Considering how quiet Chris had been of late, Dave could cope with an enthusiastic trip down Memory Lane. It amazed him how much Chris could recall. He’d been seven the last time they’d visited Winter Wonderland, not long before Matt had—
No. I said I wouldn’t do this.
Christmas was always the most difficult time of year.
Of the two of them, Matt had always been the one who welcomed the season with open arms, throwing himself into the festivities.
Even at university, Matt had been a big kid when it came to Christmas, and Dave had looked on with amusement—and so much love.
Chris tugged his sleeve. “Can I go in there, Dad?”
Dave sloughed off his memories and concentrated on the present. “In where?” Then he saw the sign pointing to Santa Land, next to which was another huge board in red, screaming in capital letters for visitors to Come See Santa.
Dave chuckled. “When I was your age, he was referred to as Father Christmas.”
Chris frowned. “That was what Papa called him too. Did he change his name?”
Matt’s voice was in his head. “Another English tradition falling foul of American culture.” Dave smiled.
“Father Christmas, Santa, Saint Nick, Kris Kringle… I guess he goes by a lot of aliases. Not surprising when you consider how many different continents he has to visit.” Then Chris’s request sank in. “You really want to see him?”
That frown was still evident. “Why wouldn’t I?”
It was on the tip of Dave’s tongue to point out that there had been no carrots left out on Christmas Eve for the reindeer, no mince pies the last two years…
Then he reconsidered. Ten was a little old to be sitting on Santa’s knee—which was probably a tradition relegated to the past in the current climate—but Dave was in no hurry for Chris to stop being a child.
Let him, if he wants to.
Dave’s inner voice sounded more and more like Matt these days.
“I saw him once.”
Dave blinked. “Who?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Santa. It was Christmas Eve, and I couldn’t sleep. I was looking out the window to see if I could see… you know… a sleigh… and Santa was in our garden, carrying a sack on his back.”
Oh wow. That had been Dave in a suit, collecting Chris’s presents from the shed where they’d hidden them: Chris wasn’t allowed in there. The costume had been Matt’s idea, of course.
That was the last Christmas we spent together.
Christ, his head was full of Matt today.
“You never said you’d seen him.”
Chris bit his lip. “I thought it would be breaking the rules. If I said I’d seen him, I’d end up on his naughty list, so… I kept quiet.”
That decided him. “Okay, let’s go see the big guy in the red suit.”
Chris’s eyebrows shot up, and it was uncanny how much he resembled Matt. “Wait. I want to talk to him on my own.”
“Kids have to be accompanied by an adult at all times. And I know you don’t feel like you’re a kid, but you’re under twelve, and them’s the rules.”
“Please? Come on, Dad. It’s Christmas.” Chris’s lower lip trembled. “Papa would have let me.”
Dave was about to admonish his son for such a cheap shot, when he realized what the deal was. Christmas was a time for secrets.
He stroked Chris’s strawberry blond hair, so like Matt’s. “Okay. We’ll go there together.” He held up his hands. “And I’ll keep my distance, all right?”
Chris beamed. “Thanks, Dad.” They walked through the gate, following the arrows, and on either side of the path, moving figures waved and turned to the strains of ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’, and other such melodies. There were snowmen, reindeer, elves…
All it needs is snow. Dave couldn’t remember the last time there had been a white Christmas. Not since he was a child, that was for sure.
They reached the hut where Dave fished out his wallet and paid for Chris’s entry.
An ‘elf’ showed them the way, and soon they reached what appeared to be a small Swiss chalet, closed on three sides.
A guy stood a few feet in front of the scene with a camera on a tripod, presumably to capture the moment.
Dave couldn’t see the big guy: a group of three children and their mother blocked his view.
Then they were ushered toward the exit on the opposite side, and a beaming elf beckoned for Dave and Chris to step forward.
“And what’s your name?”
Dave came to a halt. Father Christmas had never sounded like that.
It was a rich, warm, deep voice. Chris approached the figure seated in a huge chair surrounded by presents wrapped in shiny paper.
His suit was a sumptuous red, lined with white fur, and unlike the Santas Dave remembered, he wasn’t fat.
Not that he was skinny either: the suit couldn’t disguise thick, muscular arms and a broad chest. His beard was a tumbling mass of white curls, and—
Blue-grey eyes regarded him, and Dave swallowed. Wow.
Whoever was hiding under that suit was one good-looking man.
Santa’s eyes twinkled. “Well, hello.”
Before Dave could return the greeting, Chris spun around and gave Dave a hard stare. “Dad. Please…”
Dave nodded. “I’ll be over there. Out of earshot. Will that do?”
Chris smiled. “Thank you.”
Dave gave a nod to Santa, then retreated to stand behind the photographer. Then he shifted even farther back. This was obviously important to Chris. Then he smiled. Lucky Chris. I wouldn’t have minded sitting on that Santa’s knee.
He stood still, overcome by the momentousness of the observation. How long had it been since another man had grabbed his attention? Dave couldn’t get past the feeling that somewhere, Matt was grinning, and saying ‘About bloody time.’
Jeff Nicholson was doing his best to pay attention to the boy standing beside his chair, and not his hot dad several feet away. Which was harder than he anticipated, because Dad was just his type. Tall, short black hair, five o’clock shadow, blue eyes, a lean frame…
Then he remembered he had a job to do, even if this kid was his last customer of the day before his shift ended. Five hours of smiling had made his face ache, but he pasted one on for every child who stopped by.
“Hello. I’m Chris.” The boy held out his hand. “Do you prefer Santa, or Father Christmas?”
Jeff had to smile at that. Cute kid. “Whichever you want. Let’s stick with Santa.” They shook hands. He was a beautiful boy, with large blue eyes and a mop of shaggy strawberry blond hair covering his forehead and reaching past his ears.
His dad is just as gorgeous. Different colouring, but damn…
“Okay, Chris, what would you like for Christmas?” Jeff awaited the usual requests: tech, phones, games… Gone were the days of Action Man and teddy bears.
“Nothing, really.”
Jeff blinked. “Okay….” he enunciated. “But there must be something, or else why would you come to see me?”
Chris stared at the white felt beneath his shuffling feet.
Jeff lowered his voice. “You can tell me. I’m Santa, remember?”
Chris snuck a glance over to where his dad stood. “Well… there is one thing.”
At last. “And what’s that?”
The kid bit his lip, and it was adorable. “It’s not for me, though.”
Adorable and sweet. His parents were lucky. Jeff had seen some vile, greedy kids during the past week. “You can still tell me.”
Chris sucked in a breath and met Jeff’s gaze. “You can do anything, right? I mean, you’re Santa.”
He gave Chris a warm, reassuring smile. “Of course.”
Another moment of hesitation, and Jeff wondered what on earth was coming. Chris huffed out a breath, as though he’d come to a decision. “My dad… he’s a great guy.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“But… I think he’s lonely.”
That stopped Jeff dead. This was nothing like his usual encounters. “Oh. Okay.” How can someone so beautiful be lonely?
“So… what I really want for Christmas…is for him to find a new… boyfriend.”
Okay, that really was a new one. “I see.”
Chris nodded. “Ever since Papa died, I know Dad has been unhappy. He tries to hide it, but I can see. And it’s been three years since Papa went.” He paused, his little face so grave. “Do you think it’s too soon for him to fall in love again?”
Oh Jesus, this kid… It wasn’t often that Jeff wanted to hug one of his little guests, but the urge to wrap his arms around Chris was overwhelming. His heart went out to Chris’s dad. I’d hug him too if I could.
Then he remembered he’d been asked a question. He gave Chris another smile. “No, I don’t think it’s too soon. Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.”
Chris shuddered out a breath. “Thank you.”
“I’m not making any promises, okay?” Jeff reiterated. He didn’t want Chris coming back after Christmas and demanding to know why there hadn’t been a man wearing a big red bow under their tree.
Because Jeff would have been there in a heartbeat.
Back to the real world.
He pointed to the camera. “Do you want a photo?”
Chris smiled. “Not really.” He held out his hand again, and Jeff shook it. Someone had brought him up right. “Thank you.”
Jeff waved as Chris rejoined his dad, and they headed for the exit.
Look back at me. Go on, look back.
At the last second before they rounded the corner, Chris’s dad glanced back in Jeff’s direction. Jeff raised his hand again, and he returned the gesture. Then they were gone.
Jodie came over to him. “Paul’s here. See you tomorrow?”
Jeff nodded. He greeted Paul, an older guy who’d been a tax inspector before he’d retired, and who donned the red suit every year. Out of sight of the next customers, Jeff removed his costume and put on his jacket and scarf. He needed to eat something, and maybe look at the Christmas Fair.
And not think about the lonely, gorgeous man.
Right then, Jeff wished he really was Santa. Because then he’d have had the power to offer more than words to Chris.
“What would you like to do next?” Dave asked as they strolled away from Santa Land.
“Are you going to let me go on any of the big rides?” Chris demanded. “There’s this roller coaster that goes in loops. And there’s the Wild Mouse. And the Waltzers.”
“Please remember, if you go on those rides, I have to as well, and…” Matt had been the one for roller coasters: Dave got sick going on the Ferris wheel. “I’m not a fan of going around and around.”
“What about that one?” Chris pointed to the tall needle that pushed up into the sky. “That one goes up and down.”
Dave gulped. “The world’s largest travelling drop tower?” Dear God, the thing stood eighty-five meters tall.
“Chris?” The shout came from close by, and Dave turned to see some familiar faces. Ethan charged toward them, grinning. “You came.”
Ethan’s mother Beth walked at a slower pace, shaking her head. “Now I know why he wanted to come here today.” She smiled at Dave as she came to a stop beside him. “I think our children have been plotting together.”
He laughed, an unseen weight rolling from his shoulders.
Maybe Chris’s request had had nothing to do with reliving past visits, and everything to do with his best friend.
Ethan was in the same class at Harris Primary Academy, and they’d been inseparable since they were five years old. “Chris wants me to go on Hangover.”
Beth raised her eyes skyward, grinning. “Ooh. Yes please.” When he gazed at her in astonishment, she laughed. “Sorry. I know you don’t expect the Chair of Governors to be an adrenaline junky, but I love these rides.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t. Never have.” He glanced at the two boys who were chatting animatedly. “But he wanted to come, and I couldn’t say no.”
“And you’d do anything to make him smile, right?” Beth’s eyes lit up. “I’ve an idea. Why doesn’t Chris come on the rides with me and Ethan?” She paused. “That’s if he’d like to.”
Chris gaped. “Can I, Dad?”
Beth laughed. “Well, there’s my answer. Give us an hour to exhaust all the rides. In the meantime, you go grab a coffee or a bite. We’ll meet up at the Bratwurst hut.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
She smiled. “I’m going on the rides anyway. I certainly don’t mind Chris coming with us.” Her eyes grew warm. “And I know this was more Matt’s area of expertise than yours.”
He had some great friends. “Thank you.”
Beth waved her hand, then addressed the two excited boys. “Okay. Which ride do we hit first?”
Dave burst out laughing when two voices yelled, “Wild Mouse!”
He waved as Beth led them toward the roller coaster.
Her mention of the Bratwurst hut gave him an idea.
He ambled over to the stand on the corner, where picnic tables had been set up to one side, and ordered himself a large coffee.
He grabbed the last empty table, and sat to watch the scene before him.
The lights were so pretty against the darkening sky, and from everywhere came yells, whoops and screams of delicious fear and excitement.
“Is this seat taken?” A tall man stood beside him in a black leather jacket, a soft-looking red scarf tucked under his chin. In his hands were a foam cup and a paper tray containing a hot dog, which smelled wonderful.
Dave shrugged. “Be my guest.”
The man sat facing him, and placed his food and drink on the wooden table. He nodded toward the rides. “Getting busy.”
Dave made a noncommittal noise and sipped his coffee.
“By the way… Your kid is really something.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
The man covered his mouth. “Okay, I didn’t mean for that to sound as creepy as it did.”
That voice… Dave stared at him, taking in the dark, neat beard and moustache, and—
A pair of blue-grey eyes.
He bit back a smile. “Father Christmas, I presume?”