Secret Santa
On the Monday after Thanksgiving, Meghan began work at the clinic. That morning she carried her laptop into Tom’s office and sat at the opposite side of the desk as she signed on and registered for the ACT Veterinary Assistant Training Course. After ten sessions of study and ninety hours of hands-on training with Tom, she would receive her certification.
By lunchtime, she was halfway through the first section on office etiquette and hospital procedures.
That same afternoon, she donned one of the colorful new smocks Emily had ordered from the laundry service and stepped in to calm Clara Albright’s cat so that Tom could inspect a suspicious growth in the animal’s ear. Afterward she walked the dogs and put clean bowls of water in every cage.
One day rolled into another, and this new routine quickly became a way of life for both Meghan and Sox. In the early part of the day, as she sat at the laptop and studied, he curled up beneath the desk and napped. In the afternoon when she worked alongside Tom, Sox explored the clinic and entertained the customers by sniffing out loose treats that had fallen to the floor.
On Wednesday, Meghan moved on to section two, which covered animal restraint and handling. That day she trimmed Biscuit’s nails and applied a salve to the hot spot poor Hershey had chewed raw. She’d taken an extra few minutes to scratch his ears and hug his neck, and afterward the large brown Labrador stood quietly, allowing her to disinfect the area and bandage his leg.
“Sweet baby,” she cooed, talking to the dog in much the same way she did Lucas. The soothing sound of her voice seemed to have a calming effect on both.
Tom shook his head and smiled. “You’ve got the touch. No question about it.”
Meghan glanced over at him.
“You were right,” she said, smiling. “I love working with animals.” She rolled the gauze around Hershey’s hind leg another time and sighed. “I can’t imagine why it took me all these years to realize it.”
On the first day of December, Meghan came into the office carrying a large poinsettia and a shopping bag filled with holly garland and pinecones. Sox trotted along behind her, a bright-red bow tied to his collar.
“’Tis the season,” she said gaily, placing the poinsettia on Emily’s desk as she breezed by. Before the first customer arrived, there was a jar of candy canes on the counter and a festive garland strung across the back wall. Once everything was in place, Meghan eyed the reception room and noticed a bare spot on the wall behind Emily’s desk.
“That wall needs a wreath,” she said.
Emily, who had never in all her years of working for Dr. Anderson considered the wall behind her, turned, and looked.
“Golly, you’re right. I’ll pick one up at lunchtime.”
That afternoon, Councilman Dolan came in and asked if he might put a sign about the tree lighting in the front window.
“Sure,” Tom said, “and if you’ve got extras I’ll stand one on the reception desk.”
Councilman Dolan, of course, had extras. The Christmas tree lighting was one of Magnolia Grove’s biggest events. Bigger even than the Fourth of July parade.
“You’ll be there, won’t you? Doc Anderson is this year’s Santa.”
Tom eyed the date of the lighting. December fifteenth. “So Doc Anderson’s Santa, huh?”
Dolan nodded. “Yeah, he’s gonna be great. After we do the community sing-along and light the tree, he’ll go around passing out candy and toys to the kids.”
Tom grinned, knowing this would be the perfect time and place for his next plan.
“I’ll be there,” he said. “We all will.”
After Dolan left, Tom went into his office, closed the door, and made several phone calls. The first was to Doc Anderson.
“I’ve got this idea,” he said, “but I’m going to need your help . . . ” He went on to explain everything.
“That’s a good one,” Anderson said, chuckling. “I’d be happy to do it.”
Tom made a few more calls, then went out and whispered something in Emily’s ear.
She laughed. “You think she’s really gonna believe that?”
Tom nodded. “I’m hoping.”
Before the day ended, Emily announced that she was getting ready to place another order for surgical gloves and asked if Meghan knew her size.
“Small, I guess,” Meghan replied.
Emily looked up, trying to keep a straight face. “They don’t come small, medium, large. These are surgical gloves. You need a specific size.” Turning back to the computer, she said, “Ask Tom to measure your hand.”
“Okay.”
Meghan turned down the hallway and popped her head through the doorway to Tom’s office. “Emily said you need to measure me for surgical gloves.”
With his face deadpan, Tom pulled a length of twine and a ruler from his desk. He started with her wrist, then measured the width of her palm and lastly all four fingers one by one. When he’d finished he said, “That’s it,” and smiled.
The surgical gloves were not mentioned again, but the following Monday, a carpenter came and framed out a small office directly across the hall from Tom’s. By Wednesday the walls were up. It was painted on Thursday, and on Friday, a new desk was delivered. By then Meghan had plowed through emergency room procedures and was partway through pharmacy and pharmacology.
As the tree lighting drew closer, an aura of excitement seemed to settle over the whole town. Shopkeepers decorated their front windows with oversize wreaths, blinking lights, and spray-on snow, and passersby who throughout most of the year gave only a nod stopped to shake hands and say Merry Christmas.
On the eighth of the month, ladders went up around the Virginia pine in the center of the square, and for two days a volunteer team worked at weaving strands of lights through the branches, hanging colored globes, and draping countless yards of sparkly gold garland.
Lila baked six trays of sprinkled cookies for Santa to hand out at the tree lighting, and Tracy wrapped each one in festive holiday paper. The cover of that week’s Snip ’N’ Save was a photo of Lucas dressed in a pointy green hat and elf suit. Below his picture was a banner that read: DON’T FORGET THE TREE LIGHTING . . . 6:00 P.M., DECEMBER FIFTEENTH.
The Wednesday of the tree lighting, the Anderson Animal Clinic closed an hour early, and everyone went home to get ready for the big event.
“I’ll finish up and meet you there,” Tom said as Meghan flew by his office.
As soon as she was out the door, he called Doc Anderson.
“We’re all set,” he said. “I’m bringing it over now.”
Anderson laughed. “Well, hurry it up! I’m dressed and ready to go.”
The weather in Magnolia Grove could be iffy in December. There had been years when onlookers bundled themselves in wool mufflers and hurried off minutes after the last song was sung. But this year was pleasantly warm.
Meghan changed into a colorful Christmas sweater and winter-white slacks, and Tracy dressed Lucas in the elf suit he’d worn for the picture.
“Hurry up, girls,” Lila called up the stairs.
“What’s the rush?” Meghan said. “It’s early. The tree lighting doesn’t start for another hour.”
“I want to get a spot in the front row.” Lila shrugged on a sweater and jingled her car keys.
“I agree,” Tracy chimed in. “Lucas won’t see a thing if we get stuck in the back row. Remember that Christmas when Daddy stopped at the gas station and—”
“Okay, okay. Spare me the details.” Meghan trailed out the door behind her mama and Tracy.
When they arrived at the square, Tom was already there. So were Phoebe and Charles. Over by the bandstand, Bruce Prendergast was glad-handing a few businessmen, but once he spotted Lila, he gave a wide grin and hurried across to greet her. Only a handful of other spectators circled the square.
Tom greeted Meghan with a kiss, then led everyone to a spot he deemed perfect. It was directly across from the stand where the dignitaries and newspaper reporters sat. From there you could see the tree perfectly and in the distance the steeple of the Good Shepherd Church.
Emily and her husband arrived a few minutes later, and Tom waved them over. Behind Emily were several families from Baker Street, and before long, the square was ringed with onlookers standing three and four deep.
“See,” Lila whispered. “It’s a good thing we got here early.”
They had barely finished greeting friends and neighbors when the choir from Saint Michael’s arrived. By then every seat on the dignitaries’ platform was occupied. Councilman Hennessy stood and stepped to the microphone.
“Ladies, gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the annual Magnolia Grove Christmas tree lighting . . . ”
He rambled on for a few minutes, saying it had been an honor to serve as chairman of this year’s tree committee and thanking everyone who made the event possible. With a wave of his hand, he gave the signal, and the Saint Michael’s choir broke into song.
After a medley of “Joy to the World,” “Jingle Bells,” and a number of other songs, the mayor stepped to the microphone. As he spoke about the town’s growth and a bright future for its businesses, Tom nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It seemed an interminably long time, but finally the mayor threw the switch, and the tree came alive with colored lights.
“Y’all be sure to stay around now,” he said, “because there’s more music, and Santa is on his way.”
In the distance, they could already hear Doc Anderson clanging his bell and hollering, “Ho, ho, ho.” When he rounded the corner and came into view, the Saint Michael’s choir broke into their rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” The kids grew wide-eyed, and everyone cheered.
Well-padded and outfitted in the traditional red suit, Anderson made his way through the crowd, handing out candy canes and small toys. When he got to the spot where Meghan was standing, he gave an exceptionally jovial “Ho, ho, ho!”
“Let’s see now, missy,” he said. “I think I just might have something in here for you . . . ”
Meghan chuckled as he stood there rummaging through the pillowcase sack.
“Ah, here it is.” He handed her a small package wrapped in shiny gold paper and tied with a red bow.
Meghan took the box and turned it in her hand. There was no tag, no marking to show who it was from, or even whether it was actually meant for her. “Are you certain this is for me?” she asked.
Doc Anderson gave a broad grin. “Oh, I’m very certain.” Placing a hand on his pillowed stomach, he gave a jolly laugh. “One of my elves made sure this gift was at the top of Santa’s list!”
Meghan tugged the end of the bow, loosened the ribbon, and began to peel back the gold paper. Inside was a small square box, and atop the box a tiny label written in a familiar hand. It said, “To Meghan, with love, Tom.”
She drew in a quick breath and turned to him.
“Open it,” he said, grinning ear to ear.
The crowd suddenly became silent, and it seemed all eyes were on Meghan. She lifted the lid, and a note folded over several times dropped into her palm. Beneath the folded paper, she saw the sparkle of a diamond.
Her hand trembled as she unfolded the note, and as she began to read, a lump rose in her throat.
“Read it aloud,” somebody shouted.
She glanced up at Tom, and when he nodded his encouragement, she began to speak.
“Meghan Briggs, I love you more than anything in this entire world. Please say you’ll marry me and be my partner for life. I will love you always, Tom.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she lifted her face to his.
“Yes,” she said in a whisper-thin voice.
“What’d she say?” another voice shouted.
“She said yes!” Tom hollered back. Then he circled his arm around her waist and bent to kiss her. Everyone cheered, and cameras began to flash.
“I love you so very, very much,” he said as he took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. By some odd coincidence, it was the perfect size.
The following Thursday, when the Magnolia Grove Weekly came out, the headline for the Living Well section read, SHE SAID YES! The article told of how Santa had delivered happiness to the town’s new veterinarian.
Weeks later, when the excitement of the season had faded into sweet memories, Meghan sat on her bed leafing through the composition book that told of that marvelous night and the days that followed.
That composition book was the only one that didn’t go into the box beneath her bed. It was tied with a white ribbon and kept by her bedside. In time she would add a sprig of pale-blue forget-me-nots to the ribbon and tuck it into the drawer on her side of the bed.
Once a year, on December fifteenth, she would take it from the drawer, sit propped up in bed with Tom at her side, and read the pages she’d written. Reading the words and touching her finger to the photos taken that night, she could forever remember it exactly as it had been.