6
T he aroma of cheese and tomato sauce wafted through Christopher’s kitchen as he carefully pulled a bubbling lasagna from the oven. Setting it on the counter, he wiped his brow with his hand. “Ho, ho, you’re looking mighty fine,” he murmured to the dish. This was Meridith’s recipe, and he’d done her proud.
Christopher glanced at the clock. The grandkids were to arrive soon. Each fall, he made dinner for his grandkids, most of whom were regional Santas, but there were also others who played equally critical, though less public-facing, roles. Tonight, he was hosting Martin, the Santa for the West Coast, along with his daughter Nora and one of Shelly’s sons, Jack, who lived in the same town as Martin.
Jack had struggled to find his place in the world, and, much to Christopher’s surprise, he’d found it working at the Snowflake Sugar Shop in Mistletoe. While Jack was loved by his family, he’d always felt out of place because his magic wasn’t Santa magic. Instead, he could manipulate snow, ice, and frost, but his true talent lay in chocolate. Christopher couldn’t imagine a life outside of the Kringle family business, but Jack was incredibly happy.
Right on time, the doorbell chimed, pulling him from his thoughts. He swung the door open. “Welcome, welcome.”
Nora wrapped him in a hug. “It smells awesome in here,” she said. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
“Well now, dear Nora, let me take your coats before we sit at the table. There’s plenty to go around,” Christopher chuckled.
Jack playfully elbowed Martin. “Tell me, cousin, why you can’t use your Santa magic to cook like this?”
Martin laughed. “Because then you’d be over at my house more than you already are.”
“Now boys,” Christoper said, “This was your grandmother’s recipe, and the secret ingredient is love, not magic.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Really, Great-grandpa? That’s so cheesy. Can we just eat, please?”
They all laughed, and Nora, Jack, and Martin settled around the dining table while Christopher fetched the steaming lasagna and set it in the center of the table. “Nora, please bring out the garlic bread and salad.”
“You bet,” Nora said and returned quickly, carrying both items, a piece of garlic bread hanging out of her mouth.
“Well, thank you all for coming,” Christopher said. “Let’s dig in, and then you can tell me what’s going on in Mistletoe and how the Christmas preparations are going.”
Martin took a hearty bite of lasagna and grinned. “Grandpa, this is delicious. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Jack nodded in agreement, then leaned forward, and Christopher noted the mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, with skills like these, you should consider opening a restaurant. It’d be a great hobby.”
“You’ve been talking to your mother, evidently,” Christopher said, taking a sip of wine. So this was where the conversation was going.
“Don’t you think it’s time for a little fun outside of work?” Martin asked.
“It’s a bit late now, boys. I’m too set in my ways,” Christopher said, hoping to end the conversation.
“Well, if Eleanor Frost can change, you certainly can,” Nora said. “She’s organizing a ballroom dancing competition for the town hall fundraiser.”
Jack nearly choked on a bite of garlic bread. “Eleanor Frost? As in our resident Grinch?”
“Come now, Jack. Don’t be so harsh,” Christopher gently reprimanded.
“Grandpa, you don’t know Eleanor,” Jack said.
“But he does,” said Nora. “They met at Dad’s wedding. They danced the night away.”
Heat blossomed in Christopher’s cheeks. “Nora, my dear, we did not dance the night away. We shared a waltz.”
“Still,” Nora insisted, “you two were great together. You floated across the floor.” She clasped her hands together, held them against her heart, and fluttered her eyelids. “It was so romantic.”
Jack burst out laughing, causing Christoper to take a long sip of wine. “And what’s so funny?”
“You… and Eleanor… dancing,” Jack sputtered. He started coughing, and Martin had to slap him on the back. “Easy there, I bruise like a peach,” Jack said to Martin.
“Okay, so while I don’t share my cousin’s level of shock,” Martin began, “I, too, find it an unlikely fit.”
“Let’s set the record straight,” Christopher said. “First of all, we danced at your wedding. I did not propose marriage. Second, I enjoyed our dance together. And lastly, need I remind you not to judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes? We are Kringles. I expect better.”
“Yes, Grandpa. Sorry,” Jack said, yet his expression remained playfully defiant. It was the same look Jack had as a boy when he’d ‘accidentally’ turned Christopher’s toilet into ice.
“What’s that look for?” Jack asked.
“I was remembering the time you froze my toilet,” Christopher said.
“You did what?” asked Nora.
“A story for another time, and believe me, it’s a good one,” Jack told her. “As for now, I’d like to hear more about Eleanor’s ballroom dancing contest. Rosie and I were away when they announced the winning proposals.”
Martin turned to Christopher. “The town hall needs some desperate renovations. They were looking for ideas.”
“And Eleanor’s ballroom dance contest was one of three proposals to win.” Nora took a bite of lasagna. “Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed. “I just got the best idea, ever.”
Christopher raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”
“You sign up for the contest.”
The room fell quiet. “Me?” Christopher asked.
“Why not? You like dancing. It’s a good cause and need I remind you, we’re Kringles. It’s our duty to spread goodwill and cheer.”
“Nora,” Martin warned. “Don’t get cheeky.”
“I’m not. I’m serious,” Nora said. “Mistletoe needs participants and Great-grandpa can dance. We have to save the town hall, Dad, we have to.”
“She raises a good point,” Jack said. “And it will get my mother off your back about finding a hobby.”
Martin nodded.
Christopher considered it. One night to get Shelly off his back? “When is this event?”
“I don’t think the date has been announced yet, but my guess is that it will be before Christmas. The mayor wants things to happen fast. The crowdfunding page went up the day after he announced the winning proposals,” Martin said.
“That makes the decision for me. You know this is our busiest time of the year. I can’t neglect my Santa duties.”
“It’s not a huge commitment,” Jack said. “Plus, have you ever heard of the word delegate ? You have an army of people working for you.”
Christopher glared over his glasses at Jack. “Yourself included. Don’t forget that.” The thing was, his grandsons were right. It was not a huge commitment at all. One night of dancing to have Shelly off his back. That was a risk worth taking. “Alright,” he told them. “I’ll do it.” He held up his wineglass. “Here’s to the ballroom dancing contest.”