The next morning, Greg had just finished the last sip of his coffee when Charlotte appeared in the doorway. He looked up, surprised to see her and, he realized, more pleased than he should be.
“Good morning!” she said, marching farther into the room and depositing Audrey into that car seat she seemed to bring with her everywhere.
“Good morning,” Greg replied. He folded the newspaper and leaned back in his chair, noticing that Charlotte was already dressed for the day in those tight-fitting jeans and a soft gray cowl-neck sweater. “I wasn’t sure you were awake yet.”
Charlotte glanced up and gave him a hard look. “I have a seven-month-old. It’s nine thirty. I’ve been up for four hours.”
Greg watched as she settled Audrey with a rubbery toy giraffe and then stood to prepare a bottle. She hummed to herself as she worked, seemingly comfortable with his presence. She seemed at home here in this kitchen, and Greg had a strange feeling that he was the guest in the room and not the other way around. Since Charlotte’s arrival, the entire feel of the house was different. It had sprung to life, and not just with garland and greenery. The house felt filled—with noise, with laughter, with the things that glued a family together.
A family. Greg frowned and ran his hand through his hair, looking back to the paper. What the hell was he thinking? Greg didn’t do family. He had no experience with that—at least not since his grandparents had died. He wouldn’t know what to do with a family.
He busied himself with the next headline, frowning deeply.
“What do you have planned for the day?” Charlotte asked pleasantly, interrupting his thoughts.
Greg looked up from the paper and shrugged. It was Sunday, and he usually liked to linger over his newspaper for a few hours with a pot of coffee. He and Rebecca would rarely get moving before nine, and then spend their mornings in silence, companionably reading their favorite news sections before heading out to a casual brunch in the neighborhood. There was always a social event on the calendar, some charity fundraiser or opera to attend that filled their weekend evenings. But not this weekend. He had the entire day to himself. And he wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of it after all.
Not that he wanted to go back to the ways things were, though. He’d never really enjoyed those fundraisers, and he would have preferred to attend a few meaningful events a year to support a cause that really meant something to him, not just to see and be seen, as Rebecca liked. At first, he’d been grateful for an opportunity to stop going, but as the weekends wore on and the silence and loneliness began to sink in, he grew restless.
“I’m going into town for a bit, if you’re interested,” Charlotte continued.
An invitation, was it? Might be a good chance to get to know her a bit better…in time for the party, of course. “What did you have in mind? Christmas shopping?”
Charlotte seemed surprised at the suggestion. “Oh. No…I’m going to take Audrey to see Santa. It’s her first time, and, well, I’ve been really looking forward to this.” Her smile widened.
Greg studied her for a long moment, following her movements as she prepared two bottles and stowed them in a large bag and then counted out small jars of baby food in various colors. Something inside him softened at the sincerity of her gesture, at the care she took preparing her daughter’s things.
“A trip into town sounds good. I should probably get a Christmas gift for my mother while I’m there.” It didn’t matter what he bought her. She’d look at it with disinterest before pushing it aside, never to be thought of again. Still, the gesture needed to be made. Especially this year.
“Perfect. Then it’s settled,” Charlotte announced, and with an eyebrow raised in expectation, she pulled the keys from her pocket and said, “Let’s go!”
Half an hour later, they were settled into the car, heat blasting from the vents as they circled downtown Misty Point in search of a parking spot. The town was already bustling, and shoppers filled the salt-covered sidewalks edged with snowbanks, clutching shopping bags as they weaved their way through the crowds. Carts on each corner filled the air with steam and the fragrant aroma of roasted chestnuts and hot chocolate.
“The Christmas market is set up!” Charlotte was grinning ear to ear as she clutched the steering wheel. Greg sat cramped in the passenger seat, taking in the garland wrapped around the iron lampposts, the cobblestone streets that seemed to be almost designed for this Christmas backdrop with far less enthusiasm. He couldn’t let it get to him, all this so-called magic of the holiday. He had to focus on the bottom line. Every person he saw on the sidewalk or in a store was most likely a Frost customer, especially at this time of year. They bought into Christmas, which meant they bought Frost products.
“I used to love this day. First Sunday of December. We’d get hot cocoa, walk around the stands…” Charlotte had lost herself somehow. Her eyes were sparkling and her smile was wide, and Greg wasn’t even sure if she was talking to him or to thin air.
Or Audrey. He frowned. He hadn’t considered that.
Finally, Charlotte pulled into a parking spot, screeching to a halt so dangerously close to a large bank of plowed snow that Greg reflexively shot his hand to the ceiling of the car to brace himself. If Charlotte noticed, she showed no reaction, instead nearly squealing with glee as she unhooked her seat belt with a flourish.
“We’re going to see Santa, Audrey!” she cried joyfully, and Greg found himself feeling downright confused. Audrey was practically an infant. Was it common for people to talk to babies as if they could actually understand?
Climbing out of the car, Greg pulled his collar against the sharp wind and stared down the street. Even from this distance, he could hear the Christmas carols streaming from the speakers in the town square. Children ran excitedly along the snow-packed sidewalks, jabbering about toys they wanted, and young couples strolled hand in hand, leisurely stopping to look in shop windows and admire the holiday displays.
He wondered where he fit in all this, what an onlooker would make of their situation. Stepping onto the sidewalk, with Charlotte pushing the stroller, he had to assume that to anyone who didn’t know better they might look like a family. A regular family out for a weekend stroll and some holiday shopping.
And wasn’t that what he wanted? What he needed, he corrected himself. A family? He needed to portray himself as a family man. He needed to fit the image people had of Frost Greeting Cards. But he didn’t need to like it. Or aspire to it. Or want it so badly he suddenly felt his chest knot when he thought of the day he would walk these streets alone again.
A little girl in pigtails skipped past him clutching a candy cane, and he suddenly flashed forward a few years. Maybe someday he’d see Charlotte again, with a little girl holding her hand, and he’d remember today, and he’d remember this year, when—just for the holidays—they were his.
He pulled back sharply as a man pushed into him and then hurried by without so much as an apology. Greg turned and watched the offender hurry down the street, his arms laden with shopping bags, before disappearing into yet another store.
“You see, this is what I hate about Christmas,” he said, pointing down the sidewalk.
Charlotte just grinned and bent down to adjust Audrey’s hat. “I don’t think there’s anything to hate about Christmas.”
He gave her a long look. Was she serious? “All the pushing and shoving and greed. They say it’s about family and friends, but from where I stand, the holidays bring out the worst in people.”
“It brings out the best in people, too,” Charlotte said, smiling.
“You’re too optimistic,” he replied.
She just shrugged. “You should try it sometime. If you let yourself enjoy the holidays, you might end up having a little fun.”
He doubted that. “Christmas is an industry.” At least it was in his household, he thought, thinking back on the way his mother had discussed the holiday, for as long as he could remember, always in reference to sales or profits or margins. “A fantasy.” He pointed to a window display of Santa and his elves to underscore his point.
Charlotte refused to be ruffled as she began walking down the sidewalk. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a little fantasy in our lives. Even it’s only once a year. It’s nice to have a reason to be hopeful.”
Greg considered her words as they turned the corner. He opened his mouth to say something, to grudgingly agree that maybe she had a point. A small one. Even if it was all some sham that people bought into, no harm was really done. And maybe it would be nice to have an excuse to believe in magic once a year. If you bought into that type of thing, that is.
The words were just about to slip from his mouth when a little boy down the street began to wail, soon throwing himself onto the ground, where he rolled around on the coarse salt, icy water seeping into his blue jacket. His legs flailed, nearly kicking passersby, and even from a distance, Greg could count all the kid’s molars, practically see his tonsils. His mother stood above him, face red, warning loudly that all Santa would bring him was a lump of nice hard coal if he kept this up.
Yeah, this is what he hated about Christmas. It was all a commercial event. A way for the retailers, like Frost, to earn a profit. Not that he was complaining. But there was no way he was ever going to see the holiday as anything more than it was. As much as they preached the message that Christmas was about family and being together, he knew what it was really about.
But right now, he thought, glancing to Charlotte as she happily steered that giant stroller through the crowds, he didn’t mind being one of the crowd, and just for today, he’d pretend he didn’t know the real meaning of Christmas and feed into the fantasy. But just for today.
* * *
Charlotte inched forward in the long, winding line that seemed to barely move. Children dressed in their Sunday best were growing antsy, and just in the time they’d been there, a few frustrated mothers had called it quits. She supposed she should have known the line would be worse on a weekend, but there was only so much she could squeeze into a single day, especially with the Frost party less than a week away.
Greg stood at her side, waiting out the experience. If he was annoyed or impatient, he didn’t show it, and something inside her tugged. She couldn’t help it. This was how it was supposed to be. Audrey’s first Christmas was supposed to be spent as a family, with two parents excitedly bringing her for a first photo with Santa. As much as Charlotte had been looking forward to this, her chest had felt a bit heavy as she dressed Audrey in the little red dress Kate had bought for her last month. She didn’t like the thought of having no one to share this moment with, no one to reminisce with about it later.
But thanks to Greg, she supposed she didn’t have to.
“No personal cameras!” a bored-looking man dressed as an elf called out, and Charlotte felt her stomach knot with anxiety.
She frowned and took the brochure he thrust into her hand, her heart sinking when she saw the list of photograph prices. The packages started at twenty-five dollars, and that was just for one copy! She would have loved two. Even better, she would have loved a digital copy to be able to send to her parents.
“Typical Christmas ploy to get people to spend more money,” Greg grumbled.
“I would think in your business you’d be pleased that everyone’s happy to open their purse strings at this time of year,” Charlotte commented.
“It just goes back to what I said. Christmas lines the retail industry’s pockets. Do you think all these people think about the supposed real meaning of Christmas?”
“I know I do,” Charlotte said quietly. All she wanted was a special first Christmas for her little girl. It didn’t have to be much. It just had to be memorable. “I don’t really care about the gifts,” she added. Not too much, at least, she thought. It would be nice to have the money to buy Audrey the things she wanted to give her, but at the end of the day, a few heartfelt tokens mattered just as much. “All I want is to be able to give my daughter one magical day each year. I want her to look back on these memories and know she was loved. That’s the real meaning of Christmas for me.”
She looked down at the price list again and pressed her lips together. Just because she couldn’t afford everything she wished to be able to give her daughter didn’t make what she could offer any less meaningful. Or so she kept reminding herself. But times like this, when she thought of how much Audrey deserved to have a keepsake picture with Santa, she couldn’t help her thoughts from wandering back to Jake. He probably spent cash like this on a round of drinks for his friends. Daily. And there was no telling what that engagement ring had cost. How could his own daughter not be worth a dime, much less a second of his time?
She steeled herself against her darkening mood. She had looked too forward to this event too long to let Jake ruin it for her now.
“Everything okay?” Greg asked as they approached the front of the line.
Santa was visible, sitting plump and jolly with his forearms rested on the oversized velvet armchair. He was a good one, Charlotte thought, with a real beard, pink cheeks, and a kind face. For a fleeting moment, she felt her spirits lift.
“Of course!” She beamed at Greg, but she could tell by the slight squint in his gaze that she hadn’t convinced him. There was hurt in her voice, disappointment. Her chest had started to ache. “It’s just…sometimes I feel sad for Audrey that her father chooses not to care about any of this.”
A shadow darkened Greg’s face. “No child should have to grow up feeling that way.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, thinking of the pain that Greg seemed to still carry with him, wondering if Audrey would do the same. But then she thought of Greg’s mother, the ice queen, and she knew things would be better for her own child. She’d make sure of it. Audrey would look back on her childhood and want for nothing. There was nothing a disinterested father could give Audrey that she, as her mother, couldn’t.
At least she hoped not.
She bent down to unbuckle Audrey from her stroller and lifted the baby into her arms so she could smooth down the dress. Oh, it was pretty. Red velvet with smocking and tiny puffed sleeves edged in a satin ribbon. There was a matching bow attached to an elastic ribbon that Charlotte had put on her head, and little patent leather Mary Janes, indescribably small and sure to be a lifelong keepsake. This would probably be her only child, after all. Regardless of the circumstances, she intended to make the most of it.
“Which photo package would you like, ma’am?” the elf asked her.
Charlotte frowned. Since when did people start calling her ma’am? Only a mere matter of months before Audrey was born, when she still had the time to doll herself up, no one had thought to call her ma’am. Back then she was a miss! She was sometimes still carded. What had happened to that young, carefree girl she once was?
Audrey, she realized with a small smile. That’s what had happened.
She deposited Audrey onto Santa’s lap and stood back to admire the scene. She clapped her hands and sang a little song until Audrey flashed her biggest smile, and Charlotte nearly burst with pride. She felt Greg’s eyes on hers, but didn’t look his way. She was sure she looked like a clown, but she didn’t care. And she didn’t need anyone sobering this moment for her.
“Just the single photo,” she replied as she leaned forward to pick up Audrey, who burst into wailing tears in her arms.
“How about the disc?” Greg cut in. Charlotte turned to him sharply. She could feel the heat working its way up her cheeks. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Greg reached into his pocket and smoothly pulled out his wallet. “A photo like this only happens once.”
Charlotte didn’t know if he saw how much the gesture meant to her. She hoisted Audrey higher on her hip, barely able to suppress the smile that formed on her lips as Greg pushed the empty stroller to the front desk and, after paying, handed her three large copies of the photo and the disc.
“I figured you’d want to give a copy to your sister and your parents,” he said.
She stared at him, trying to find the words that showed her full gratitude.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He shrugged and began pushing the stroller out of the crowd. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.”
She gave him a knowing smile. “I thought you didn’t buy into all this Christmas stuff.”
He was still smiling when he turned to her, but his dark eyes were anything but amused. “What can I say? If you keep it up, you might end up turning me into a believer.”
* * *
Greg took the small red paper bag from the store clerk. That completed his Christmas shopping. A bracelet for his mother that she would be sure to toss in a drawer and forget. What a relief that was taken care of.
“Oh, look.” Charlotte stopped walking and turned her attention to a Christmas tree decked out with ornaments of every shape and size. She was holding a small pink one, with writing he could barely make out. “Isn’t that sweet?”
He didn’t think much of it but decided it was best to play along. “Should we get it?”
“Oh. No.” She shook her head and backed away. “Next year. When I have my own tree.”
He leaned in for a better look. “But it’s a baby’s first Christmas ornament.”
“That’s okay. She won’t know the difference.” Charlotte grabbed the stroller and pushed it forward.
Something about this situation was starting to nag him. Charlotte didn’t appear to have two dimes to rub together, and she clearly had nowhere to spend the month. “Do you mind if I ask about Audrey’s father?”
Charlotte didn’t look at him as she maneuvered the stroller through the open door and onto the crowded sidewalk. “There’s nothing to tell. Audrey was…a surprise. And Jake—her father—never wanted to take responsibility. When I said he wasn’t involved, that was a bit of an understatement. He’s never even met Audrey. Well. He sort of did. Once.”
“A deadbeat then. As suspected.” He closed his eyes. Held up a hand. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
Charlotte laughed at this. “It’s the truth. He is a deadbeat. He’s also getting married. And he also has more money than God.”
“Then why not sue him?” It seemed so obvious.
Charlotte shook her head, her cheeks turning pink. “No.” Her voice seemed to shake with certainty. “I don’t want to make things worse.”
He didn’t know how they could be much worse, but she clearly felt strongly about this, so he let her be. He lowered his gaze to the cobblestone sidewalk, wet from snow, and lazily glanced up to the street. The sky was gray and overcast, and the streetlamps cast a warm glow that reflected off the garland-draped store windows. It would probably snow soon. If it kept up like this for the next few weeks, they’d be sure to have a white Christmas. Not that he particularly cared.
“I’ve tried reaching out to him,” Charlotte continued, “but nothing seems to work. Audrey doesn’t even have his last name.”
“But you have rights,” Greg said. They were nearing her car now, and he pressed his lips together. It was rusted on the side, around the wheels, and one of the tires looked low. The thing must have a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it. He doubted it even had air bags. “You shouldn’t have to be doing this alone, Charlotte. At the very least, you should be getting child support.”
She said nothing as she lifted Audrey from the stroller and placed her in the car seat. She quickly hooked her in the harness, closed the door, and then with an expert flick of her toe and move of her hands, collapsed the stroller flat. “I wanted Jake to come around on his own. I wanted him to want to be a father.” She lifted the stroller into the trunk before he could help and slammed the lid shut.
“Yes, but you said he had money. The child support would at least make your life easier,” Greg pointed out.
“Money isn’t everything,” she said firmly, silencing him with those words.
Anything else he might have said stopped there. Money wasn’t everything, and that was a lesson he had learned growing up. Even without his unknown father’s input, his mother might have been able to buy him the best gifts and send him to the best schools, but money didn’t buy someone’s love. There had been times over the years when he had thought of his father, especially as he grew older, and watched his friends become fathers themselves, but he never missed him. He couldn’t miss someone he never knew, an experience he never had. And he didn’t long for it, either.
He looked down at Audrey through the window, noticing the way her chubby hands gripped the edge of her soft pink blanket. What kind of man would deny this child and leave Charlotte to fend for herself? No man at all, he decided.
“It’s getting cold. Let’s go home,” Charlotte said. Home. She said it casually, without apology or even explanation after the words were out, perhaps not even realizing what she had said. But Greg didn’t mind.
In fact, he rather liked it. And he decided not to read into that sentiment any further.
“I have a better idea,” he said. He pointed to the crowd that was gathering along the sidewalk. “Don’t you think Audrey would like to see the Christmas parade instead?”