The Merry Matchmaker

Chapter 12

12

Barbara opened the final Santa Walk committee meeting by predict ing that this year’s Santa Walk would be the best one yet. Of course it would because Barbara was in charge. It was all Frankie could do not to stick her finger in her mouth and pretend to gag.

“I think all we need to do now is finalize our Mrs. Claus pageant,” Barbara continued.

“What’s left to finalize?” Frankie asked. “We’ve got ballot boxes everywhere, and we’re set to use the VFW hall for the pageant.”

“Frankie, sometimes you overlook the details. We still haven’t got judges for the pageant.”

“Do we really need judges? Why can’t we just tally the votes?” asked Frankie.

“It would hardly be a pageant if that’s all we did. Thanks to the suggestion of the gingerbread houses,” Barbara said, her tone of voice showing exactly what she thought of that addition to the pageant, “we now have to have judges.”

“People can vote for their favorite gingerbread house at the event,” Frankie said. “Then we’ll add those to the other votes, which we’ll already have tallied. Simple.”

“I think we should have judges for those,” Barbara insisted. “You can’t have a pageant without judges.”

“Who are we going to get to judge at this late date?” asked Hazel, frowning. “The Santa Walk is right around the corner.”

Everyone looked to Theresia, the queen of the chocolate croissant.

She held up a hand. “Oh no. I don’t want that responsibility.”

“I’ll help you,” Frankie offered.

“That’s not a good idea,” Barbara said sternly, pulling a frown from Frankie. “Your employee is competing. You’ll be biased.”

“I’ll help you,” said Autumn.

“I can be on the judges panel as well since none of my employees are competing,” said Barbara. Which meant Elinor’s gingerbread house wouldn’t stand a chance.

“You already have so much to do,” said Frankie, throwing Barbara’s earlier words to her back at Barbara. “I can see if Mayor Lent would like to judge. As our mayor, she should be involved. And she should be the one to award the winner.”

“Excellent idea,” approved James.

Barbara stiffened but managed a smile. “All right. I’ll contact the mayor.” Of course she would. That was too important a job to leave to her underlings.

“That should be enough judges, right? What do you think, everyone?” asked Frankie.

“I think that sounds good,” said Autumn, and Frankie smiled sweetly at Barbara, enjoying her petty victory.

“That takes care of that then,” Barbara said stiffly.

“We need to make sure we have ballot boxes next to all the gingerbread houses,” Frankie insisted. “Even though we have judges, the people’s vote should be the most important.”

“Agreed,” said Hazel.

“Oh, very well, but if you ask me this is turning into a very unusual pageant,” Barbara grumbled. “One vote per person,” she added, looking at Frankie.

“As if I would stuff the ballot box at the pageant,” Frankie said to Elinor when she got back to the shop. There would be too many witnesses.

“I could probably use it,” Elinor said. “I have no idea how I’m going to make a gingerbread house.”

“No worries,” said Frankie. “Team Elinor is here for you. We’ll all help. We should do it tonight. That way, if something goes wrong, we’ll have time to fix it. Mom,” she called to Adele.

Her mother was over by the Disney ornaments, supposedly helping Mr. Bellagamba, their mailman, pick out an ornament for his granddaughter but mostly yakking.

“Can you come help us with gingerbread house construction tonight?” Frankie asked loudly.

Adele said something to Mr. Bellagamba, then called back, “Tomorrow night is better.”

Natalie, who was putting out the last of the tree-shaped mint chocolates she’d brought in earlier, called, “Gram Gram, what are you thinking? Tomorrow is Warner’s Winter Concert.”

“That’s right,” said Frankie. “Then we’ll have to do it on Thursday.”

“That’s the night before the pageant. What if something goes wrong?” Elinor fretted.

“What could go wrong?” Frankie scoffed. “Anyway, Thursday is better. That will give me time to order a pattern.”

Or not. As she searched various sites on her phone, she discovered that gingerbread house patterns were either temporarily out of stock or wouldn’t arrive until Friday, the day of the pageant.

“This isn’t good,” she said in a low voice to Natalie.

“See if Mitch can come up with something. He is a handyman, and he did design that addition he put on his house.”

“Good idea,” said Frankie, and texted him.

I can come up with something for you , he promised. Will drop it by your place later.

You are the best , she texted back.

And he was. She really should start looking around again for someone for him. Someone who would be willing to share, of course.

William Sharp entered the shop, looking for a new ornament for his tree. More like looking for yet another excuse to see Elinor. These two were definitely a match. When was that man going to get his courage up and ask her out? At the rate he was going, never. Frankie would have to give them a nudge.

“William, are you going to vote for Elinor for Mrs. Claus?” she asked him.

“Of course I am,” he said. “I know you’ll win,” he told Elinor, which—surprise, surprise—made her blush. How cute were they?

“You are coming to the pageant, aren’t you?” Frankie pressed. “You can sit with Team Elinor.”

He smiled at that and said he’d be happy to. Frankie would make sure they sat together.

True to his word, Mitch stopped by Frankie’s house that evening with gingerbread house plans. He found her up to her wrists in cookie dough. She met him at the door, still wiping it off with a damp washcloth.

“I thought I’d make a small batch to see what it tastes like,” she said.

“When does construction start?” he asked.

“Thursday night. I know that’s cutting it close, but Mom couldn’t do tonight. And Wednesday is Warner’s school concert. We can’t miss that. But we’ll have a full crew on Thursday. Hopefully, we can manage this. Your house design isn’t too elaborate, is it?”

“Nope. I kept it simple. It’s all about the stuff you put on it anyway, isn’t it?”

“I hope so,” said Frankie. “Anyway, gingerbread houses are only an extra attraction. How many votes Elinor gets on hers shouldn’t affect the outcome.” Although many elections were won by only a handful of votes. “I hope.”

In addition to getting her mother, daughter and sister to help Elinor, Frankie planned to also draft Viola. With so many of them involved, she’d decided to make a party of it. “Everyone’s going to bring goodies to decorate the house, and we’ll build and party.”

“So, a whole construction crew.”

“I guess you could say that.”

He looked beyond her toward the kitchen. “You need a taste tester?”

“Sure. Want some decaf?”

“Yep,” he said, and followed her into the kitchen.

“I sure hope Elinor becomes our Mrs. Claus,” Frankie said as she started his coffee. “It would be so good for her.”

“The way you’ve been campaigning for her all over town, I don’t see how she can lose.”

“I want to do everything I can to help her.”

“I’d say you are,” he said.

She gave him his coffee, and they chatted about what they were getting for their families for Christmas as he watched her work. It was all so cozy and friendly. Ike would have approved of this arrangement.

“This is good,” he said after sampling the first experimental cookies that came out of the oven. “You guys gonna auction off the houses afterward?”

“I never thought of that. Good idea. We could, and then donate the proceeds to the Help Santa fund. I’ll have to have Stef get that in the paper. But first, I’ll have to suggest it to Barbara in a way that makes her think it was her idea.”

Mitch chuckled. “I see you’re managing to, er, manage Barbara.”

Frankie sighed. “It’s not easy to work with someone who basically came in and took over.”

“We know who got the Santa Walk ball rolling. Anyway, sharing is caring. That’s what my mom always told me when my little brother stole one of my toys,” he said, and put the last bite of cookie in his mouth.

“I don’t care about Barbara.”

“But you care about the Santa Walk, and you care about Carol.”

“You’re right,” she said. She took a big bite of cookie, hoping it would sweeten up her attitude.

She called Barbara after Mitch left and asked if Barbara had any ideas for what to do with the gingerbread houses after the pageant.

“The contestants can take them home.”

“I’m just wondering if there’s a way we can put them to use,” Frankie suggested.

“How?”

“What about some sort of fundraising angle?”

“Selling them?”

“Or auctioning them?”

“Hmm. Auctioning them could be fun.”

“So many good causes in town. Animal rescue, the food bank, the Help Santa fund...” Frankie let the last suggestion dangle, a verbal bauble waiting to be grabbed.

Barbara snatched it. “We could auction them off and donate the proceeds to the Help Santa fund. That seems appropriate.”

“Yes, it does. Good idea,” Frankie added, and almost choked on the words.

“I think we’ll do that. I can mention it when I go on the radio tomorrow.”

“A very good idea.”

“Yes, I’m glad we decided to do the gingerbread houses.”

Which you were so not in favor of.

Oh well. Everything they were doing was to benefit the community. As long as the end result was good, who cared how they got to it?

That took care of the pageant. Now, what was going on with Stef? She should have checked in. Frankie picked up her phone and called her sister.

“I’m dying,” Stef answered. “Someone drove an ax into my head, and it’s splitting open.”

“Oh no. When did that hit?”

“This morning.”

“So I guess you didn’t make it to the coffee shop.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

And that encounter had sounded so hopeful. “Don’t give up,” Frankie said.

Stef just groaned.

“And feel better.” Because life was bound to get better for Stef, and Frankie was determined to do her part to make sure it happened.

Frankie ground her teeth as she listened to Barbara’s interview on her phone the next morning. She was sitting in the back room of Holiday Happiness, doing paperwork.

“The gingerbread houses sound like a fun addition to the pageant,” said Carly Rae, radio personality and host of the morning show, Carol’s Life . “That pageant is something new this year, isn’t it? In the past, Frankie Lane from Holiday Happiness has been Mrs. Claus.”

“Frankie felt it was time to step down,” Barbara said.

“I did not!” Frankie snapped at her phone.

“The whole Santa Walk thing was her idea, wasn’t it?” Carly Rae continued.

“Oh, many of us were involved,” Barbara lied.

“Not you, until you wormed your way onto the committee,” Frankie said.

She could almost hear Mitch saying, Sharing is caring .

He was right, of course. Frankie had started the Santa Walk to benefit the town and local businesses. People loved it, so really, what did it matter if she wound up sharing the credit for making it happen? Lots of people had gotten involved, and without their help, she couldn’t have pulled it off.

“And Mitch Howard will be Santa again this year, right?”

Without Frankie helping him. But she’d feel a lot less grumpy if Elinor was the one to take her Mrs. Claus cape.

“We’re all excited to see who wins the Mrs. Claus pageant,” said Carly Rae. “So, everybody come to the VFW hall this Friday and root for your favorite contestant. And bring money so you can bid on those amazing gingerbread houses. It’s all for a good cause. Then on Saturday, be sure to visit our downtown shops, which will be offering all kinds of holiday specials. We have added entertainment this year, too, right, Barbara?”

“We do. We’ll have strolling carolers to entertain everyone.”

“And the Santa pub crawl for the grown-ups on Saturday night,” put in Carly Rae. “Is that happening again this year?”

“Yes, put on your best Santa suit or elf hat. Our local restaurants and pubs will be offering discounts on drinks and appetizers.”

“Bring your kids to see Santa before he starts hitting the bar,” joked Carly Rae. “Right, Barbara?”

“Yes. He’ll be at the gazebo in the town square from noon to three.”

Hearing all the fun that was planned blew away Frankie’s crankiness. She had started this event with pure motives. She didn’t need to be undoing that by letting her ego get in the way. And she wouldn’t, darn it all. This was for the town and the people she loved, and seeing others catch the vision was a good thing. There. See how good it felt to be noble?

She wrapped her nobility around her like a warm blanket and kept it there when three different customers came in that morning to report that they’d heard Barbara on the radio.

“But it was your idea. She should have given you credit,” said Mrs. Whitworth, who always bought Natalie’s candy.

“Yes, it was,” Frankie said, glad that someone remembered. “But I’m happy to see it growing and getting better every year.”

“I think it still sucks that Barbara took over,” Natalie said when she brought in more candy to replace their diminishing supply.

“Oh well. I can live with it.” For this year. Don’t plan on being in charge next year, Barbara. Sharing was caring, and it was about time Barbara learned that.

So much for nobility.

The day flew by. Then it was time to grab a quick sandwich at home and head out the door for her grandson’s concert. Of course, Warner would be the cutest snowflake of all the little snowflakes on the school’s stage.

It took Stef longer than she anticipated to recover from her monster headache, and she barely made it to the school in time for Warner’s concert on Wednesday evening. The program was about to start when she stumbled to the end of the row where her family was seated. Thankfully, Frankie had saved her a seat on the end.

“I was just about to text you,” Frankie said. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. At least I finally pulled the ax out of my head.” Stef leaned over to wave at Natalie, who was seated farther down.

That was when she saw him, seated in the same row, on the other side of the aisle. “Oh my gosh, that’s him,” she said to Frankie.

“Him who?” Frankie asked, following her gaze.

“The man from the coffee shop.”

Frankie looked. “Wow, he’s cute.”

There was an understatement.

“Looks like Santa’s delivering him right into your lap,” said Frankie. “You can just wander on over that way after the concert and stroll by.”

Because he was so interested in you , came the nasty voice of Stef’s ex.

Her bubble of excitement burst. “Maybe not.”

“Don’t chicken out. For all you know, he might have been in The Coffee Stop yesterday looking for you.”

Stef nodded. Her sister made a good point.

“What have you got to lose?”

Nothing. You already are a loser.

The ghost of husband past. Stef told him to go find a rock to crawl under. Frankie was right, she had nothing to lose.

“Welcome, family and friends, to our annual winter fest concert,” the school principal greeted everyone. “The children have been working very hard this year to give you a wonderful concert. So sit back and enjoy and let the fun begin.”

This is one of the good things in life I need to remember to be grateful for , Griff thought as the curtains parted to show several little sugar plum fairies and nutcracker princes dancing to the center of the stage, all students of Mrs. Ballard’s after-school dance program.

“Corky’s next,” Jenn whispered, and got her phone ready as the dancers posed, waiting for the next group of entertainers.

So did Griff. He knew his parents were expecting him to record their grandson’s big moment. And there it came. He aimed his phone and recorded as a line of little boy elves marched across the stage, each holding a giant card with a red letter on it. All together, they spelled Merry Christmas.

“To everyone,” called Corky as they exited stage right after the dancers. He waved to the crowd, thoroughly enjoying his big part.

“Thank God his tummy got better,” Jenn said as everyone clapped.

Corky had complained about his stomach hurting but had managed to wolf down a hot dog and then seemed to feel better. “I think it was nerves.”

“That little ham? More like excitement,” Jenn said.

Either way, Griff was glad Corky hadn’t had to miss out on something he’d been looking forward to.

Meanwhile, the sixth-grade choir had assembled on risers to sing “Jingle Bells,” accompanied by the school’s music teacher on the piano. Another student, standing next to her, jingled bells with enthusiasm.

Corky would be back on soon with his class to sing about “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” He’d been wearing his felt reindeer antlers around the house for the last two days. Of course, the reindeer antlers reminded him of Santa, and he’d bugged Griff each day to check the paper’s Letters to Santa page to see if Santa had answered his letter yet.

“Maybe the reindeer ate it,” said Griff when their latest attempt got no results, continuing with his blame-the-reindeer plan.

“Reindeer don’t eat letters, Daddy,” Corky said.

“They might if they get really hungry,” Griff replied.

Corky had frowned at that. “We’d better go see Santa.”

“We’d better get you ready for bed,” Griff said. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

And so the Santa bullet had been dodged again. Temporarily.

Corky’s class was about to come out and sing when the teacher’s assistant found Griff and motioned him out of his seat. “I’m afraid we have a problem,” she said after Griff had stepped on half a dozen sets of toes trying to get to the end of the aisle to her. “Corky’s not feeling well.”

Jenn had followed right along behind. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’m afraid he’s been a little sick.”

“A little sick,” Jenn repeated. “Oh no. You mean, he...?”

The woman nodded.

“He what?” asked Griff.

“He barfed,” Jenn translated. “Poor kid. We need to get him out of here.”

They did indeed. They found Corky, left behind in the classroom with one of the mom volunteers, weeping as she mopped the front of his white shirt.

“Daddy!” he cried.

Griff hurried to pick him up and hug him. Jenn was right behind, patting the boy’s shoulder and saying, “It’s okay.”

Griff couldn’t help wishing Kaitlyn was there to help comfort their son.

“I threw up,” Corky sobbed. “Jeremy Jenkins laughed.”

“Jeremy Jenkins is a shit,” said Griff, making the volunteer mother blink in surprise. “Come on, son, let’s get you home.”

“I want a cookie,” Corky protested.

Cookies had been promised at the end of the show.

“You can’t have a cookie. You’ll just puke it up,” said Griff, which made Corky cry harder.

Okay, he could have been more diplomatic. Kaitlyn would have known what to say.

“I’ll get some ginger ale for you while Daddy gets you cleaned up,” promised Jenn. “Ginger ale is yummy for the tummy.”

Corky sniffled and smiled at her, and Griff mouthed a thank-you and carried his son out of the classroom. They were almost to the car when Corky upchucked again, getting Griff’s coat good in the process.

“My tummy hurts,” wailed Corky.

“I know,” said Griff. “It’ll be okay, though. We’ll get you in bed, and you’ll feel all better.”

“Will I feel better in time to go see Santa?” Corky asked.

“Let’s not worry about that right now, okay?” Griff said, and his son started crying all over again.

Happy holidays.

“You were my favorite snowflake,” Frankie said to her grandson as she hugged him after the concert.

“I want to be a snowflake next year, too,” he announced, making the grown-ups gathered around him smile fondly.

Frankie watched as he raced off to shed his costume and get one of the cookies the children had been promised as a reward.

“Just think, this time next year we’ll have another little snowflake in the family,” said Adele, and Natalie and Jonathan caught hands and smiled at each other.

It was too early to let go of family fun. “Who wants to come over and help me drink eggnog before I consume it all?” Frankie offered.

“We need to get Warner home and in bed,” said Natalie.

“Works for me,” Stef said. “I’ve got nothing else going,” she added with a small frown.

Frankie turned to Adele. “Mom, you going to join us?”

“I’ll have to pass. I’ve got someone coming over,” Adele said.

“Only yesterday you didn’t have any plans besides this,” Frankie pointed out.

“Life is fluid,” Adele replied. Whatever that meant.

“You bunco babes are total party animals,” Frankie teased.

“’Tis the season,” said Adele, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Is it my imagination, or is she getting too busy for us?” said Stef as they watched Adele move toward the door.

“Starting that bunco group certainly has taken up more of her time. But I don’t begrudge her a social life. She’s earned it,” Frankie said.

She could still remember how hard her mother had struggled to come to terms with her widowhood. Unlike Frankie, she hadn’t had a business to consume her. Instead, all she’d had was grief. And that had almost succeeded in eating her alive. It had been a slow crawl out of that dark hole, but Adele had managed.

And when Frankie had fallen in the same dark hole, she’d had her mother to help her out. They’d had many conversations about life and death and life after death.

“I know I’ll see your father in heaven someday,” Adele had said, “and I know you’ll see Ike, too. Meanwhile, you have a family that needs you and a business to run. You still have purpose, and you’re still here. I hope it won’t take as long for that to sink in for you as it did me. There is always something good in life. Find that and focus on it. There are always good people in life, too. Find them and enjoy them.”

Frankie felt she’d done a pretty good job of following her mother’s advice. For the most part. The holidays were still the hardest, and she was glad she didn’t have to leave her loved ones and return to her house alone.

Back at the house, the sisters settled in with their eggnog for an assessment of Stef’s non-love life as Christmas music streamed in the background.

“It stinks that you and your mystery man keep missing each other,” Frankie said. “I wonder why he vanished so quickly after the concert. Usually parents hang around for a while.”

“Kidnapped by the Grinch?”

“That must be it.”

“Between that and my stupid migraine it looks like he goes in the not-meant-to-be column. I guess I made more of it than it was. I’m sure glad I didn’t ask Santa for a man this year, ’cause he’s not coming through.”

With the Santa Walk right around the corner, Frankie couldn’t help remembering her conversation with the woman in her shop. A certain lonely man could show up, bringing his son to see Santa.

“Santa hasn’t come yet,” she said.

Stef studied her eggnog. “You know, it’s weird. After I split with Richard, I vowed I would never be with another man again. But here I am, looking.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Who wants to be alone?”

“You’re managing.”

“I am.” Although sometimes managing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“What if I blow it again?” Stef said in a small voice.

“You’re too smart for that,” Frankie assured her. “And you’re wiser now. You won’t blow it.”

Stef smiled at her. “You really are my hero, you know.”

Embarrassed, Frankie waved away the comment.

“No, I mean it,” Stef insisted. “You look out for everyone. But who looks out for you?”

“Oh, I think I’ve got a guardian angel or two on duty,” Frankie said lightly. “I’m doing okay.”

“Are you? Really?” Stef asked earnestly.

“Of course I am. Don’t worry about me,” Frankie said. “My life is good.”

Stef gnawed her lip. “Are you sorry you broke it off with Brock?”

“No. It wouldn’t have worked. And really, I don’t think it would have worked for you, either. He didn’t want to have kids. You might want to try again.”

“I’d like to, but who knows?” said Stef.

Again, Frankie thought of her conversation in the shop. “Who knows what the future holds?”

Later, after her sister left, Frankie continued to sit by her tree, thinking about her life and the lives of the ones she loved. If she could ask God for one thing, it would be a hopeful beginning to the new year for all of them.

Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

When it came to new beginnings, Elinor was Frankie’s pet project. Frankie closed the shop early on Thursday, leaving a sign on the door that read:

CLOSED TO GET READY FOR THE MRS. CLAUS PAGEANT TOMORROW. VOTE FOR ELINOR!

Then she raced home to bake more gingerbread, cutting it into pieces according to the pattern Mitch had made for her.

She was just finishing up her royal icing when Natalie arrived with edible metallic beads, coconut for snow, peppermint discs and decorating tips and parchment paper and gumdrops. The gumdrops package had already been opened.

“Warner wanted to come. The only way I could get him to not throw a fit was to leave some gumdrops with him,” she explained. She held up a small LEGO man. “He wants us to be sure and put his person in front of the house.”

Elinor arrived, bringing M&Ms and mini candy canes. Right after her came Adele with a plate of brownies. “For sustenance,” she said.

Stef and Viola arrived together, bearing wine and cheese and crackers. “We figured you guys would have the candy supply all taken care of,” explained Stef. “And it looks like we were right.” She eyed the pile on the kitchen counter.

“I think we’re good to go. I’ve got the gingerbread and the frosting ready,” said Frankie.

“But first, the important stuff,” joked Stef, holding up two bottles of Gewürztraminer.

“Good idea. We can toast to our success,” said Frankie.

“We haven’t succeeded yet,” pointed out Elinor.

“We will,” Frankie assured her, and started pulling glasses down from the cupboard. Once the wine was poured, she held hers up. “To Elinor, this year’s Mrs. Claus.”

“To Elinor,” echoed the others, and they all clinked glasses.

Then they got to work. Adele put herself in charge of sketching where the various treats would go on the house while Stef unwrapped candies and Viola covered a piece of heavy cardboard with tinfoil to make the base.

That left Frankie and Elinor to put together the walls and put on the roof under Natalie’s supervision, sealing everything with royal icing.

“That stuff is so gross,” said Viola. “It’s like cement.”

“Which is what we need to hold our house together,” said Natalie as Elinor held two walls in place, waiting for them to seal.

“It’s taking forever,” Elinor fretted.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” said Adele.

“But we need to build a house in a night,” Elinor said.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” said Frankie. “Okay,” she said, once their walls looked sturdy. “Now the roof.”

The two sides of the roof were set on the house and glued together along the top with more icing. Construction was looking good.

Until the workers began to tile the roof with candy, and the house started to sag.

“Oh no, what’s happening?” asked Stef.

“Hold it together,” commanded Frankie, pressing on her side of the roof.

That was all it took. The roof caved in and broke in half. Two walls followed suit and their demise was accompanied by a chorus of groans.

At the sight of the collapsed gingerbread house, Elinor burst into tears. “This is a sign. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m not meant to be Mrs. Claus.”

“The only thing this is a sign of is that we need to go back to the drawing board,” Adele said firmly.

“This has nothing to do with you being Mrs. Claus,” Frankie said.

Stef refilled Elinor’s wineglass and handed it to her. “Here, drink this.”

“People make these all the time. We just have to figure out what we’re doing wrong,” put in Viola.

Natalie was already on her phone, doing research. “I think I know what we did wrong. Our dough has to be thicker. And...” She stopped and groaned.

“And what?” prompted Frankie.

“It needs to be chilled for three hours.”

“Three hours?” Adele made a face and shook her head. “We won’t even be able to start baking until ten thirty.”

“We can do this,” Frankie said firmly. “It’ll be like being back in college, pulling an all-nighter studying for finals.”

“I’m too old for all-nighters,” grumbled Adele. Then, on seeing Elinor’s crestfallen face, she added, “But I’m not dead yet. I’m in. Just don’t expect me in the shop tomorrow before eleven. I need my beauty sleep.”

“I probably can’t stay that late,” said Natalie.

“It’s okay. The rest of us can handle this. Right, Team Elinor?”

The others nodded, and Elinor looked at them all with tears in her eyes.

“You’re all so kind,” she said. “Thank you.”

“It’s all part of the adventure. This is the kind of thing we always look back on later and laugh about,” Frankie said.

Stef grabbed her wineglass and raised it in a new toast. “Memorial service for House Number One. You tried,” she said, looking down at the collapsed mess. “You gave your all for Elinor. Rest in peace. In my stomach,” she added, making the others laugh. Then she broke off a piece and ate it. “It tastes good anyway.”

“Find me a recipe, and I’ll make another batch of dough,” Frankie said to her daughter, and Natalie obliged.

Ten minutes later the dough was chilling in the fridge, Natalie was on her way home to her family, and the rest of Team Elinor was chilling in the living room, watching a Christmas movie. The heroine happened to be a shy baker in need of love. She also just happened to specialize in making gingerbread houses. How handy for her that the man who had come into her shop looking to buy one for his grandma was single.

“Now, there’s a sign,” Frankie told Elinor. “I can already see a certain someone bidding on your house.”

Elinor smiled and took a sip of her wine.

Try Number Two held together. It was almost one in the morning when the crew finished, but they all concluded it was a work of art. Frankie created a royal icing hat for their LEGO man and topped it with a tiny cinnamon candy decoration from the jar in her cupboard.

“There,” she said, setting him down with a flourish. “Now we are ready.”

Yes, they were.

It was a slow day at the shop the next day, which was hardly surprising. Residents were waiting for the big day of fun on Saturday and the sale prices of twenty-five percent off on all holiday merchandise. In addition to the sale, they would be putting out free samples of some of Natalie’s candy creations—tiny bites of eggnog-and-mint-chocolate fudge. Normally Frankie would have been in her Mrs. Claus outfit. This year she’d promised to loan it to Elinor if she won, which Frankie was sure would be the case.

They closed the shop early again, leaving a sign on the door that said:

GETTING READY TO CHOOSE THIS YEAR’S MRS. CLAUS—COME VOTE FOR ELINOR. WE’LL BE HERE TOMORROW!

Then Frankie went back to her house and got out the red dress she’d promised Elinor, along with the Mrs. Claus outfit and wig. After those were loaded, she carefully settled their gingerbread creation into a small cardboard box. The sides weren’t very high, but they were high enough, and it would offer extra stability. She then settled the whole thing in her trunk and headed for Elinor’s apartment on Huckleberry Street by way of The Salad Bowl.

Let the fun begin!

Corky had recovered from his upset stomach and made it to school, and now Griff was regretting that he hadn’t kept his son home for the rest of the week.

“Tommy’s mommy is taking him to see Santa tomorrow,” Corky informed Griff when he picked him up from school.

Good for Tommy’s mommy , thought Griff, and tried not to frown. After the letter to Santa mess, the last thing he wanted to do was to fight the crowds downtown on Saturday just so he could take his son to see a fraud in a red suit. The whole Santa thing was such a lie. People shouldn’t lead their kids on. Especially when their kids thought that Santa moonlighted as Cupid.

“You can’t not take your kid to see Santa,” Jenn had insisted when she checked in to see how Corky was doing.

Sure, he could.

“It will be fun for Corky, and who knows? You might actually have fun yourself. It would be good for you to get out, meet new people.”

“What new people?” he’d demanded. He had enough people in his life.

The pretty woman he’d met in the coffee shop came to mind. What were the odds he’d ever see her again? Maybe he needed to go back to the coffee shop and find out. He sure preferred meeting new people there to fighting the crowds at the Santa Walk.

“I don’t know, just people,” Jenn had said. “Get out there and pretend you’re a human being.”

Being a human being was exhausting.

So was coping with his son.

“I want to go see Santa,” Corky said at dinner. He stuffed a chicken nugget in his mouth and watched his father, waiting for an answer.

“Come on, bud, you don’t really want to do that. The guy didn’t even answer your letter.” Yep, no lying happening here.

Corky frowned. “Tommy said his mommy saw my letter, and Santa answered it.”

It was all Griff could do not to swear. “I bet he didn’t promise you a mommy.”

Corky’s lower lip jutted out. “I want to see Santa,” he muttered, and kicked the table leg.

“We have other things to do tomorrow,” Griff said. He’d think of something.

Corky scowled and pushed away his dinner plate, which held two more chicken nuggets, some reheated french fries and carrot sticks. Carrot sticks always made up for french fries, right?

“You need to eat your dinner,” Griff said sternly.

“I want to see Santa.”

“We’re not going to see Santa!”

Corky let out a wail, and tears began to trickle down his cheek. “I just want to see Santa,” he sobbed.

Sobs and tears and a heartbroken little boy. Griff felt like a monster. “Okay, we’ll go see Santa,” he said.

Corky took a jagged breath and smiled.

“But only if you ask him for toys. He’s not going to bring you a mommy. Got it?”

Corky’s lower lip trembled. He pressed down on it, stared at the dinner plate. Finally, he nodded.

“Okay, then,” said Griff as if he’d actually gotten a promise. And if he saw that Stefanie Ludlow, who’d started this mess, he was going to let her have it.

Elinor was renting a cozy little one-bedroom place. Frankie noticed the hand-crocheted afghan on Elinor’s couch when she walked in and suspected it was a gift from a relative.

“Your afghan’s lovely,” she said.

Sure enough, “My grandma sent it to me as an early Christmas present.”

Elinor was ready for Christmas. She’d decorated a small tree with pink LED lights she’d purchased at the shop and silver balls as well as some collectible ornaments probably saved over from childhood. She’d put an Advent wreath on her kitchen table, and an elegantly sculpted Santa-face teapot sat on her little kitchen counter.

Frankie recognized the maker of the teapot immediately. “Fitz and Floyd, right?” she said as she set the takeout bag on the counter.

“Yes, it was my mom’s. She gave it to me when I moved out here.”

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” said Frankie. “I think you said your family is back in Michigan?”

Elinor nodded, biting down on her lower lip. “I’d hoped to get home for Christmas this year, but that didn’t work out. Hopefully, next year.”

Elinor would be getting a raise in the new year. That should help. If not, Santa would bring her a plane ticket. Meanwhile, “Well, you’re welcome to come to my Christmas Eve open house,” Frankie offered.

“Thank you. In fact, thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me. At first, I thought I’d made a big mistake moving so far from home, but working with you and your family at the shop and meeting so many nice people has convinced me I made the right decision.”

“Why did you move so far away?” Frankie asked. “That was pretty adventurous of you.” And a little out of character.

“My life was...stalled out. I had a friend who’d moved to Marysville. She kept telling me how nice it is out here.” Elinor sighed. “I barely got here when she met someone and moved to Canada. I was ready to go back home and admit I’d made a mistake when I happened to see your ad. Working in a Christmas shop sounded so charming. I thought I may as well give it a try before giving up.”

“I’m glad you did. You’re a wonderful addition to our staff,” Frankie told her, and Elinor smiled. “Now, how about something to eat before we start getting you all gorgeous? I picked up salad on the way here.”

“I couldn’t eat. I’m too nervous.”

“No need to be nervous. All you have to do is be yourself and you’ll have this in the Santa bag,” Frankie said, and set to work.

A hot iron, a makeup session and Frankie’s cute red dress was all it took to transform Elinor into the adorable candidate for the position of Mrs. Claus that Frankie had known she would be. That and the red heels Frankie insisted she buy for the event. If seeing her like this didn’t motivate William to ask her out, nothing would.

“There, look at yourself,” Frankie said as they stood in Elinor’s bedroom, taking in the sight of the finished product in the dresser mirror.

“I hardly recognize myself,” Elinor said.

“You’re still you.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Elinor said. “I’m not used to being in front of people. I even got nervous in high school when I had to give book reports in front of my English class.”

“This is different,” Frankie assured her. “This is for fun, and you’ll be the cutest future Mrs. Claus there. Plus, you’ll have the cutest house.”

Elinor was still too nervous to eat, but Frankie gobbled a few bites of salad and drank some of the peppermint tea Elinor had brewed to settle her tummy. Then they were out the door, in the car and on the way to the VFW hall.

The parking lot was already nearly full. “What a great turnout,” Frankie said.

“Oh,” said Elinor weakly.

Frankie recognized Stef’s baby blue Toyota Corolla, and the van for KZAM was also there. The press was out in full force.

She decided it would be best not to point that out to Elinor. Instead, she said, “You’ll be fine. Everyone loves you. Remember that.”

“I wish we’d had some sort of rehearsal,” Elinor fretted.

They should have. Frankie should have thought of that. Or Barbara. Someone. But it was too late now. It wouldn’t be much of a show anyway. Simply introducing the candidates after allowing everyone to chat and vote for their favorite gingerbread house.

They had just parked when Natalie and her family pulled into the parking lot, Adele riding shotgun.

“All right, Team Elinor is here,” Frankie said, hoping to drive away some of Elinor’s nerves. “Let’s get our creation and get you in.”

Elinor nodded, looking like a prisoner about to stand in front of the firing squad.

“Come on now, how about a smile?” coaxed Frankie. “Ho, ho, ho.”

Elinor repeated a sickly, “Ho, ho, ho,” as they got out of the car.

“You’re going to be fine. Remember, everyone loves you,” Frankie told her.

Elinor nodded and managed a weak smile.

Frankie took the box with the gingerbread house from the trunk and was starting across the lot when her excited grandson barreled into her with a hug, knocking her off balance. She lost her grip on the box, and it started to tip.

“No!” cried Natalie, rushing to grab it.

Elinor echoed it in a squeak and stood frozen.

Frankie tried to regain her hold but failed. The box tipped sideways just out of Natalie’s reach and flew to the ground, spilling out the gingerbread house and raining coconut snow.

There it lay, their lovely creation, now looking like pieces of a hobbit mobile home waiting to be delivered. With a disconnected roof.

Elinor burst into tears.

“Snotballs,” muttered Frankie.

“Oh no,” moaned Natalie.

“Crap,” said Adele.

“I’m sorry, Grandma!” cried Warner.

The gingerbread house said nothing.