a clipboard and pen. They were the naughty and nice elves, writing down names. Finley kept track of the nice. Gwen was in charge of naughty. Funny thing was, Santa never put a kid on the naughty list. Only the nice.
Shaking his head, Rory laughed and glanced down at the first-floor sales floor. Hundreds of customers swarmed around tables and racks. The line at the candy department was six deep. Congratulating himself on the money they’d be making, he glanced at the door and straightened suddenly.
Shannon’s parents had arrived. Early.
As if they had radar, they headed for the mezzanine steps. Within seconds, they were beside him.
“Hey, Rory!” Stacy hugged him.
“Rory.” A bit more standoffish, Shannon’s dad reluctantly offered his hand to shake his.
“I’m glad you’re here early. You can see Finley in action.”
Stacy glanced over. “Oh, she’s adorable!”
Even Shannon’s dad’s expression softened a bit. “She’s quite a kid.”
“Due in no small part to your daughter,” Rory said, desperately trying to make points with this guy, who still wasn’t over the fact that Rory had left Christmas Eve the year before. Never mind that he’d come back and proposed marriage to his daughter even though they’d only known each other a week. Nope. Dave still held a grudge. “She’s a wonderful mother. I couldn’t raise Finley without her.”
Stacy looked around. “Speaking of Shannon, where is she?”
He didn’t know. She’d been missing in action all morning and he wasn’t sure it was wise to tell her parents that. He hadn’t lost her. She was a grown woman, allowed to go Christmas shopping on her own if she chose, but somehow he didn’t think her dad would like that answer.
Still, he sucked in a breath, ready to say, “I’m not sure where she is,” when he saw Shannon get off the elevator and stride toward him.
The happy expression on her face hit him right in the heart. He couldn’t believe he’d almost walked away from her the year before.
She strode over, directly into his open arms. “Can I talk to you?”
He turned her to see that her parents were already there.
“Mom? Dad? You’re early.”
Her dad scowled. “Why, is that bad?”
“It’s not bad, Dad. It’s just that I have something to tell Rory.”
Her dad harrumphed. “You can tell him in front of us…unless there’s something wrong.”
“Nothing wrong,” Rory assured him, then prayed there wasn’t.
Shannon cleared her throat. “Okay, then—” She slid her arm around Rory again. “I’ve spent the morning with the adoption agency.” She turned in Rory’s arms. “Melissa Graham had her baby. She chose us as the parents.”
Rory’s heart stopped. As he grabbed Shannon and hugged her, he noticed Shannon’s parents’ faces fall in disbelief. “We get a baby?”
Her eyes glowed. “A boy.”
His breath stuttered out. “A boy.”
She hugged him again. “A baby. Our baby boy.”
The speakers above them began to play the hallelujah chorus. Shannon laughed. Rory bit back tears, not wanting Shannon’s dad to see him cry.
Pulling out of his embrace, Shannon said, “Who gets to tell Finley that she’s about to be a big sister?”
Rory turned her toward Santa’s throne. He put his arm around Stacy’s shoulders and tugged on Shannon’s dad’s arm. “Let’s tell her together.”
Sarah Morgan
‘MUMMY, I’ve written my letter to Santa.’
Bryony tucked the duvet round her daughter and clicked on the pink bedside light. A warm glow spread across the room, illuminating a small mountain of soft toys and dressing-up clothes. ‘Sweetheart, it’s only just November. Don’t you think it’s a little early to be writing to Santa?’
‘All the decorations are in the shops. I saw them with Grandma.’
Bryony picked up a fairy outfit that had been abandoned in a heap on the floor. ‘Shops are different, Lizzie.’ She slipped the dress onto a hanger and put it safely in the wardrobe. ‘They always start selling things early. It’s still ages until Christmas.’
‘But I know what I want, so I thought I might as well write to him now.’ Lizzie reached for the stuffed mermaid that she always slept with. ‘And anyway, this present is special so he might need some time to find exactly the right one.’
‘Special?’ Bryony gave a groan and picked up the book they’d been reading all week. ‘Go on.’ Her tone was indulgent. ‘Hit me with it, Lizzie. What is it this time—a horse?’ She toed off her shoes and curled up on the end of her daughter’s bed with a smile. This was the best time of the day. Just the two of them, and Lizzie all warm and cuddly in her pink pyjamas. She smelt of shampoo and innocence, and when she was tucked up in bed she seemed younger somehow, less like a seven-year-old who was growing up too fast.
‘Not a horse.’ Lizzie snuggled down, her blonde curls framing her pretty face. ‘Bigger.’
‘Bigger than a horse?’ Bryony’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re scaring me, Lizzie. What if Santa can’t find this special present?’
‘He will.’ Lizzie spoke with the conviction of youth. ‘You said that Santa always gives you what you ask for if you’re good.’
‘Ah—did I say that?’ Bryony took a deep breath and made a mental note to concentrate more when she answered her daughter’s questions in future. ‘Well, it does depend on what you ask for,’ she hedged, and Lizzie’s face fell.
‘You said he always gives you what you ask for if you’re good.’
‘Well, he certainly does his best,’ Bryony said finally, compromising slightly and hoping that the request wasn’t going to be too outlandish. Her doctor’s salary was generous, but she was a single mother and she had to watch her expenditures. ‘Do you want to show me this letter?’
‘I’ve sent it already.’
‘You’ve sent it?’ Bryony looked at her daughter in surprise. ‘Where did you post it?’
‘I went into the post office with Grandma and they said
