Page 116 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

Me:

Thirty minutes later and with Levi’s camera in hand, I stood waiting by Hal, who was fully dressed in a new Santa suit, and I had to admit, he looked perfect.

Maybe even better than Mr. Paxton?

Apparently, he had a special beard made that attached directly to his skin, which his niece had fixed up with makeup to look old and rosy.

James hurried through the main entrance of The Market with his father in tow, wearing the traditional suit jacket/no tie combo he was known for. James’s face lit up as he found me, but I immediately flashed back to last night’s kiss with Sam. Guilt dropped into my stomach like icy stones.

One thing at a time, Gianna.

“Good morning, Mr. Bailey!” I waved. “Thanks so much for coming.”

“He can’t wear that,” Hal said, suddenly appearing at my side.

“Can’t wear what?” Mr. Bailey asked, his stare flitting between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

James cleared his throat. “Dad, remember when I told you I took a tour of Gianna’s mom’s studio?”

“Yes…” His voice was wary.

“I may have told her you did photography in college.” He gave a big “please don’t hate me” smile.

Realization dawned on Mr. Bailey’s face. “James—”

“Their regular guy who normally takes photos for this event came down with the flu.” James put his hand on his dad’s arm.

“It’s only a two-hour event,” I said, cautiously stepping closer. “And as you can see, we already have a line. We could really use your help, sir.”

Mr. Bailey’s lips pressed together as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Did I mention the proceeds go toward our high school’s choir and band departments?” I smiled and motioned to the space around us. “They set all of this up and do some small performances during the event, too.”

While I’d been out shoveling, the local music students had helped set up long tables inside, covering each with new dark green tablecloths dotted with white snowflakes. Local families donated griddles for the made-to-order pancakes, which were set up near the side of Mom’s studio. Those students who weren’t on pancake duty or performing in the small ensembles helped clear away trash or dressed up as elves to get the children excited. Breakfast with Santa was always one of my favorite events because of the tangible excitement of the children.

Mr. Bailey sighed and shrugged out of his suit jacket before handing it to James. “It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this, but I’ll do my best.”

Operation Ho Ho Humbug was back in business!

James clapped his dad on the back. “It’ll be just like riding a bike, Dad!”

Mr. Bailey gave his son a look as he took the camera from me. “I broke my wrist the last time I rode a bike, son.”

“Then this will be a breeze.” James gave him a thumbs-up. “Right, Gianna?”

“Right.” I gave him a thumbs-up too and tried not to think about the baby that spit up on Levi last year or the Chihuahua that peed on him the year before that.

A no-leaky-body-fluid breeze.

I hoped.

Hal, aka Santa, stepped forward and held out an elf hat and Levi’s homemade red velvet vest, bedazzled in silver and gold poms, sleigh bells, and tiny sequin bows. “Hat or vest, sir?”

“Definitely the vest,” James said, taking it before his dad could object.

James and I helped clean up tables during the event, smiling at each other whenever we heard the jingling of Mr. Bailey’s vest as he moved for better angles. But despite his occasional scowl, it seemed like James was right. Mr. Bailey’s shoulders had relaxed significantly over the last hour, and he looked at ease while he took photos for families, even adjusting the lighting near Santa on more than one occasion.

Did we actually, finally pull something off, here?