Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
NICK
T he familiar scent of wood, metal, and a hint of paint fills my nostrils as I walk into the local Hardware store. It’s a comforting aroma. Joseph’s wood shop at the North Pole is a great place to go if you want quiet, which is funny since he carves wood statues with a chainsaw. The quiet comes because you have to wear noise-canceling headphones, and Joseph isn’t much of a talker. I liked going there when I first got to the Ice Castle. There’s something about Joseph that’s comforting. He’s a solid sort of person.
The narrow aisles stretch before me, wooden shelves packed with an assortment of tools and supplies that would make any handyman’s heart sing.
I wander down one of the aisles, my fingers trailing along the rough edges of lumber stacked neatly against the wall. The wood is cool to the touch, smooth in some places, and delightfully textured in others. My mind races with possibilities—what should the reindeer enclosure look like? I wouldn’t mind building a complete walk-through stable. However, I’m walking a tight line between being seen as a helper and doing too much.
Kringles are all about doing too much.
I’m not hiding my Kringle abilities around Penelope by any means, but I have to rein them in so I don’t scare her away.
See what I’m talking about here? Fine line.
Lost in thought, I almost turn a corner and run right into a shopping cart. I grab the sides of it to keep from falling to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I say at the same time Penelope says, “Ohmygosh are you okay?”
Our eyes meet, and I’m frozen in this weird position of holding onto her cart and staring at her. She’s. Gorgeous.
Wearing a deep red, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black pants, she has her hair down. Her skin is soft and perfect, even in the hardware store lights.
“Nick!” Noelle laughs.
I turn to look at the little girl and see that she’s also wearing a red shirt. I adore the fact that they matched up today. I didn’t think I was the kind of guy who would ever go for that, but toss me a red sweater and watch me.
“Hello, ladies,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face. Noelle giggles at being called a lady. I push off the cart and straighten up, careful not to send it rolling away. “What are you two up to?”
Noelle beams up at me, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Christmas shopping. Are you shopping too? ”
I chuckle, crouching down to her level. It’s so much easier to talk to her than it is to look at her mom. Penelope makes my heart run so fast I can barely breathe. Noelle just makes me happy. “Not exactly, princess. Just looking for some supplies for the Bazaar.”
Penelope’s eyebrow arches curiously. “Oh? What are you getting?”
I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing. The faint scent of vanilla wafts over me, bringing with it a flood of memories. Baking cookies in her grandfather’s kitchen, stolen kisses under the mistletoe, quiet evenings by the fire...
I clear my throat, pushing the memories aside. “Actually, I’m not sure how big to go on the reindeer pen. I could make it look just like the stables at the North Pole—minus the elves, of course.” I wink at Noelle. She wrinkles her nose happily. “On the other hand, that would leave the city with something they’d have to store.”
Penelope’s forehead wrinkles. “That’s thoughtful of you. We had a heck of a time with the train—though we love it.”
“What do you think?” I ask. Curious how she feels about this. Now that she’s over the Bazaar, it’s her call. We did well the other day, working together while stepping over and around the conversational bombs that seem to litter our interactions. One of these days, we’ll be able to clear them away.
She draws a breath. “Well, unless we can guarantee a live reindeer every year, I’d say go with something tasteful but small. Or, if you’re going bigger, then make it more versatile so we can use it for other things.”
“Versatile,” I mutter as I think over design options.
Noelle tugs on my sweater, her eyes wide and curious. “Do you know if Santa got my letter?”
The question catches me off guard. I’m not sure why she would ask me this question. I glance at Penelope, silently asking if she told Noelle that I’m Santa’s adopted son. She shakes her head ever so slightly.
Here’s another one of those fine lines I have to walk. I don’t want to upset her by telling Noelle I come from a magical Christmas family—you’d be surprised at how many people don’t want you to claim those ties in front of their kids unless you’re wearing a Santa suit. For some reason, the red velvet and white fur make it just fine to say whatever you want about being Santa or related to Santa. But if you’re wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, you have no street cred.
On the other hand, I can’t lie. It’s a Kringle thing that doesn’t usually pose a problem. I’m not inclined to make stuff up. If only Penelope would have known that last year before she wished me away.
Penelope watches me intently. She’s giving me room to wrap myself up in Christmas lights and fall off the roof. I really don’t want to step on her parental toes. Ugh! Why did being Santa’s son suddenly become so difficult?
I look at Noelle’s earnest expression, and my worry melts away. Children are special because they believe in Christmas Magic so easily. I don’t have to pretend to be anything but who and what I am with her. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for Penelope’s response. “I don’t know if he got your letter. I don’t work in the mail room,” I say carefully. “But I can call someone who would know.”
“Do it!” Noelle bounces on her toes.
I pull out my phone, acutely aware of Penelope’s eyes on me as I dial. The line rings twice before a cheerful voice answers.
“North Pole Mail Room, Brody here.”
I can’t help but smile at the sound of my nephew’s voice. Brody is one of the adopted-in Kringle grandchildren. Er, I guess he’s a step-grandchild—officially. At any rate, he’s grown up to be an incredible magic human who plays a mean game of chess. No one at the North Pole will play with him anymore. “Hey, Brody. It’s Nick. I’ve got a question for you, and I’m putting you on speakerphone.”
“Ho Ho Ho,” he hams it up for whoever I’ve got with me. “Merry Christmas. What can the North Pole Mail Room do for you today?”
I grin down at Noelle, who is watching me with rapt attention. “I’ve got a little girl here named Noelle. She’s wondering if Santa received her letter.”
I can hear the sound of shuffling papers on the other end of the line. “Let’s see... Noelle, Noelle... Founder's Grove? Ah, here we go! Yes, we sure did. Got it yesterday. You can tell her that she’s on the Good List and everything is in order.”
Noelle’s face lights up, and she does a little happy dance on the spot.
Suddenly, I notice a young boy nearby, watching our interaction with keen interest. He’s wearing an unzipped blue coat and a matching stocking hat. He steps closer, his eyes wide with hope. “Did Santa get my letter, too?” he asks.
I look down at him, taking in his untucked shirt and freckled nose. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Benson,” he says, fidgeting with his coat’s zipper.
I relay the information to Brody, who pauses for a moment before responding. “We did get Benson’s letter,” he confirms. “But... there was an incident with a baseball bat that’s teetering him onto the Naughty List.”
I watch as Benson’s face turns pale. “I’ll pay for a new window out of my allowance,” he blurts out, his voice filled with remorse.
I relay this to Brody, who chuckles. “Tell Benson that’ll do it. Wish him a Merry Christmas from all of us up here.”
Benson nods and then turns and runs down the aisle. “Mom! I need to get my piggy bank!”
I chuckle. The kids got a good heart. As I hang up the phone, I’m acutely aware of Penelope’s gaze on me. Her expression is a mix of disbelief and... something else. Wonder, maybe? She knows all about Christmas Magic, but seeing it in action is a little different than just believing.
“Who was that?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
“Brody,” I reply, trying to keep my tone casual. “He helps out in the Mail Room.”
Noelle walks circles around Penelope’s legs, sing-songing, “Brody works in the Mail Room.”
“Have I met him?” Her eyebrows pull together.
I shake my head. “He didn’t come down last time I was here.” That was hard to choke out. We haven’t talked about the past, and I’m certainly not going to drag in her into a conversation about it in the middle of the hardware store. “There are a lot of us you haven’t met yet.”
Penelope opens her mouth as if to say something more but seems to think better of it. Instead, she watches as I lift my phone to snap a picture of several saws hanging on the wall.
“That should do it,” I murmur, sending the photo to Hazel and asking her to wish for them out of Robyn’s purse.
An awkward silence falls between us, broken only by the soft Christmas music playing over the store’s speakers and the distant sound of other customers chatting. I find myself searching for something to say, anything to prolong this moment with Penelope and Noelle.
“Listen,” I begin, my heart racing. I’m about to make a move that could send me crashing into a wall or flying, and I have no idea what the outcome will be. “I was thinking of grabbing dinner at the Chowder House later. Would you two like to join me?”
I hold my breath, hoping against hope that she’ll say yes. The chowder house holds so many memories for us - our first date, dinners with Noelle when she was just a baby, and late-night conversations over steaming bowls of clam chowder. Maybe, just maybe, being there again will remind Penelope of the good times we shared.
I can see the hesitation in her eyes even before she speaks. “That’s... very kind of you, Nick,” she says slowly. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to pass. We have plans already. ”
I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. Hitting the wall—check!
I pushed too hard.
Sometimes you have to in order to see where the line is so you don’t cross it again, right?
“Of course. Maybe another time,” I say. We aren’t going to make any progress unless we start having real conversations. I feel like to day was a two-step-back kind of day. Which is always so disappointing after a three-step-forward day like we had when building together for the Bazaar.
Noelle looks up at her mother, her lower lip jutting out in a small pout. “But Mamma, I want to go to the Chowder House with Nick,” she says plaintively.
Penelope’s expression softens as she looks down at her daughter. “I know, sweetie. But remember, we promised Grandpa we’d help him with the Christmas lights tonight.”
Noelle’s face brightens at the mention of Christmas lights, but I can still see a hint of disappointment in her eyes. It warms my heart to know that she wants to spend time with me, even as it breaks a little at the thought of missing out on these moments with her.
“Well,” I say, forcing a cheerful note into my voice, “I guess I’d better let you two get on with your shopping. Those Christmas lights won’t hang themselves.”
Penelope nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Right. Well, it was... nice to see you, Nick.”
“You too, Penelope,” I reply softly. Then, crouching down to Noelle’s level, I add, “And you, Princess Noelle.”
Noelle giggles, nodding enthusiastically. “Thanks. ”
As I watch them walk away, Noelle’s small hand clasped in Penelope’s, I feel a familiar ache in my chest. It’s the same feeling I’ve had every time I’ve seen them since returning to Founder's Grove—a mixture of love, longing, and regret so powerful it almost takes my breath away.
I turn back to the shelves, pretending to examine a set of screwdrivers as I try to compose myself.
The cashier’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Did you want to purchase something, sir?”
I blink, realizing I’ve been standing at the counter without actually buying anything. “Oh, um, no. Thank you.”
I hurry outside, embarrassed.
I have to find a way back into Penelope’s heart. I want every Christmas tradition with her and Noelle—including hanging lights. I’m tired of walking lines. It’s not a natural state for me.
I need to be bold.
I just have to figure out how to translate that into wooing a woman who doesn’t want to be wooed.