Read Online 'Tis the Season to Kiss Santa (Entangled Indulgence) by Kate Hardy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Hardy
Ads: Link
of underestimating his boss again. “Agreed. And, um, thanks.”
C.J. didn’t smile. “Twenty-five years ago, Stella and I spent Christmas at that hospice. Watching our son die and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”
Mitch couldn’t imagine what that was like. He had no terms of reference, except maybe the time his new brother-in-law broke his sister’s arm. He’d been twelve, too young to do anything about it other than beg Barbara to leave the guy.
She hadn’t, convinced that her husband wasn’t all bad and she could change him. She’d been proven wrong, on both counts. And she’d made the same mistake with husband number two, who’d eventually left her with a pile of debts, a black eye, and three children under the age of three.
“And what I noticed when I went to grab us a coffee,” C.J. continued, “were the other kids. The ones who sat quietly and never asked for anything. The ones who’d lost their belief in Christmas because they knew their brother or sister wasn’t coming home. That’s when I decided to hold a Christmas party for them, in Billy’s memory. There was another woman there, a woman who ran a bakery. Her boy…” His breath caught. “Well. Same as Billy. When she found out what Stella and I were planning, she offered to help. So Betty does the food for the party, while I buy the gifts and play Santa.”
“Okay. I’m in,” Mitch said.
It was the first time he’d felt guilty in the near twenty years since he’d walked out of his family’s front door and never looked back. He’d always assumed his boss had simply chosen not to have kids, putting his business before his family. Obviously not. The older man clearly still longed for a family. He hurt every day that he hadn’t seen his son grow up. He missed the grandkids he and Stella hadn’t had a chance to have. Whereas Mitch… He had the next best thing to what C.J. had lost. Parents. Three sisters. A horde of nieces and nephews he hadn’t seen for years, other than in photographs. A family he’d walked away from without looking back.
He pushed the thought away. “When, and what time?”
“Christmas Eve, from three until four. The presents will be there waiting for you—the Friends of the Hospice wrap them for me and label them.” C.J. handed him a bag. “Here’s the costume.”
One hour. That was all he had to do. One little hour. Mitch could manage to grin and bear it for an hour. He’d borne a hell of a lot worse over Christmases past.
“I’ll e-mail you the address of the hospice,” C.J. said.
Mitch nodded. “Right.” He paused. “Can I, um, contribute to the cost of the gifts?”
“No. They’re already bought. It’s not about the money,” C.J. said.
No. It was about time . About giving something that couldn’t be bought. Helping children forget their worries for just a little while.
How many times as a kid had Mitch wanted that? To forget, just for a little while? To pretend that he was like all the other kids, with a family who loved one another and a dad who didn’t drink and a mom who never “walked into a door”?
“I won’t let you down,” he said.
The older man held his gaze. “That,” he said, “is exactly why I asked you.”
Chapter Two
Christmas Eve.
Ellie loved Christmas.
She surveyed the table in the hospice playroom now that the children had had their fill. Good, she’d judged it about right. About half the food was gone, leaving enough for nibbles for the staff on their breaks. Sandwiches, sausage rolls—no, they were called pigs in a blanket on this side of the Atlantic, she corrected herself hastily—gingerbread cookies cut into Santa shapes that she’d baked and iced that morning, bowls of chips and dips, carrot sticks, breadsticks, and the star-shaped cheese straws she’d practically grown up making for Christmas parties and knew everyone loved.
Betty’s elf costume fitted her perfectly—luckily Ellie was the same height and shape as her
C.J. didn’t smile. “Twenty-five years ago, Stella and I spent Christmas at that hospice. Watching our son die and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”
Mitch couldn’t imagine what that was like. He had no terms of reference, except maybe the time his new brother-in-law broke his sister’s arm. He’d been twelve, too young to do anything about it other than beg Barbara to leave the guy.
She hadn’t, convinced that her husband wasn’t all bad and she could change him. She’d been proven wrong, on both counts. And she’d made the same mistake with husband number two, who’d eventually left her with a pile of debts, a black eye, and three children under the age of three.
“And what I noticed when I went to grab us a coffee,” C.J. continued, “were the other kids. The ones who sat quietly and never asked for anything. The ones who’d lost their belief in Christmas because they knew their brother or sister wasn’t coming home. That’s when I decided to hold a Christmas party for them, in Billy’s memory. There was another woman there, a woman who ran a bakery. Her boy…” His breath caught. “Well. Same as Billy. When she found out what Stella and I were planning, she offered to help. So Betty does the food for the party, while I buy the gifts and play Santa.”
“Okay. I’m in,” Mitch said.
It was the first time he’d felt guilty in the near twenty years since he’d walked out of his family’s front door and never looked back. He’d always assumed his boss had simply chosen not to have kids, putting his business before his family. Obviously not. The older man clearly still longed for a family. He hurt every day that he hadn’t seen his son grow up. He missed the grandkids he and Stella hadn’t had a chance to have. Whereas Mitch… He had the next best thing to what C.J. had lost. Parents. Three sisters. A horde of nieces and nephews he hadn’t seen for years, other than in photographs. A family he’d walked away from without looking back.
He pushed the thought away. “When, and what time?”
“Christmas Eve, from three until four. The presents will be there waiting for you—the Friends of the Hospice wrap them for me and label them.” C.J. handed him a bag. “Here’s the costume.”
One hour. That was all he had to do. One little hour. Mitch could manage to grin and bear it for an hour. He’d borne a hell of a lot worse over Christmases past.
“I’ll e-mail you the address of the hospice,” C.J. said.
Mitch nodded. “Right.” He paused. “Can I, um, contribute to the cost of the gifts?”
“No. They’re already bought. It’s not about the money,” C.J. said.
No. It was about time . About giving something that couldn’t be bought. Helping children forget their worries for just a little while.
How many times as a kid had Mitch wanted that? To forget, just for a little while? To pretend that he was like all the other kids, with a family who loved one another and a dad who didn’t drink and a mom who never “walked into a door”?
“I won’t let you down,” he said.
The older man held his gaze. “That,” he said, “is exactly why I asked you.”
Chapter Two
Christmas Eve.
Ellie loved Christmas.
She surveyed the table in the hospice playroom now that the children had had their fill. Good, she’d judged it about right. About half the food was gone, leaving enough for nibbles for the staff on their breaks. Sandwiches, sausage rolls—no, they were called pigs in a blanket on this side of the Atlantic, she corrected herself hastily—gingerbread cookies cut into Santa shapes that she’d baked and iced that morning, bowls of chips and dips, carrot sticks, breadsticks, and the star-shaped cheese straws she’d practically grown up making for Christmas parties and knew everyone loved.
Betty’s elf costume fitted her perfectly—luckily Ellie was the same height and shape as her
Similar Books
