“I wish he was here and could teach me how to throw a curve ball.”
She blinked. “Me, too, Timmy. Me, too.”
A girl, wearing an elf’s costume and pointy shoes, led him to Santa, who sat in a large chair. It sort of reminded Timmy of a king’s throne. This Santa had a real beard and small gold-rimmed glasses. His fancy red suit looked new, and his black leather boots shone. Much better than the Santa from the Main Street Thanksgiving Parade.
Timmy glanced around hoping none of his little league teammates were at the mall, too. He could just imagine the teasing he’d get if they saw him.
“Would you rather sit or stand?” Santa asked.
“Stand,” Timmy admitted, “but the picture is for my mom and she’d probably like me on your lap.”
Santa patted his knee. “Climb up. We’ll make it fast.”
Timmy sat on Santa’s lap. It wasn’t so bad. This Santa didn’t wear padding. He also smelled good, sort of like a candy cane and a cookie.
Mrs. Claus stood behind a camera. “Smile.”
The flash blinded Timmy. He rubbed his eyes.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Santa asked.
“I already sent you a letter.” The picture had been taken. Now all Timmy wanted was to be done so he could get a smoothie. “After Thanksgiving.”
“That’s right. You asked for a Gameboy Advance, a skateboard and a book on pitching.” Santa’s blue eyes twinkled. “But there’s something else you want, something you haven’t told anyone about.”
No way. He couldn’t know that. Not unless he had super-mind-reading power or if he was the real thing. And if he was the real Santa…Timmy felt all shivery inside like the time Grandpa let him eat chocolate cake with ice cream for breakfast. He nodded. “Can you…”
“That’s a big request,” Santa answered before Timmy could get the words out. “I’ll try, but I might need a little help. It’s a busy time of year. Maybe an elf could help me out. Or an angel.” Santa adjusted his glasses. “Christmas is a time for miracles. Do you believe in miracles, Timmy?”
“I’ll believe in anything if it gets me a new dad.”
Chapter One
The wedding invitation sat in the middle of Reed Connors’s desk. The embossed ivory card should have blended in with the other pieces of paper competing for his attention, but the invitation might as well have been printed on orange fluorescent paper. No way could he ignore it any longer.
Reed had received the invitation a month ago. His best friend from high school was getting married. But Reed had been too busy to reply, had shoved the damn thing in his briefcase and forgotten about it. Until now.
He replayed the voice mail message.
“Hey, Reed, it’s Mark Slayter,” his best friend’s familiar voice said. “Long time no see, bud. I know you’re busy, but we’re trying to get a final head count for the caterer so I need to know whether you’re coming to the wedding or not. All the guys will be there and we’d love to see you. It’s been too long. Don’t know if it makes a difference, but Samantha Wilson will be there, too. I know you remember her, even if you forgot the rest of us losers. Take care, dude, and let me know ASAP.”
Mark would mention Samantha Brown Wilson. No one else knew about Reed’s special friendship with the most beautiful, most popular girl at Fernville High School, and Mark had never told a soul, even though the group of nerds they’d hung out with pretty much shared everything. Reed had never had a friend as loyal as Mark had been. Reed doubted he ever would.
Thinking back, he remembered what a fool he’d been with Samantha—a lovesick fool. Not surprising. He’d been the stereotypical geek and could have written the book on being a high school loser. He’d come a long way since then.
As Reed stared at his schedule for December, he tapped his pen against a stack of manila folders. The rapid tattoo helped him concentrate when he brainstormed the newest marketing strategy and tried to build brand equity for Wintersoft Software, but in this case it was only making an annoying sound. A trip to Frankfurt, a conference in San Jose, a tradeshow in Las Vegas. Meetings with investment analysts. A trip to Fernville, Virginia, for Mark’s wedding was impossible.
“Working late…again?” A cheery, feminine voice asked from the doorway of his office.
He didn’t have to look up to know it was Carmella Lopez, Executive Assistant to CEO Lloyd Winters. She reminded him of everyone’s favorite aunt except she dressed like the perfect professional in stylish jacket and skirt ensembles, cooked the most amazing rice and beans this side of the Rio Grande and was easier to confide in than an anonymous bartender.
“It’s not that late.” Reed glanced out the window behind him and saw lights from the other Boston skyscrapers in the night sky. He’d not only missed the sunset, but dinner. Worse, he was still wearing his jacket and tie. “Lost track of time.”
“Seems to be a habit of yours.” The warmth of her smile echoed in her voice.
“You shouldn’t talk. You’re here, too.”
“Lloyd likes me to be around when he’s in the office.”
“You treat him too well.”
“He’s a good…boss.”
“Exactly.” Reed grinned. “Don’t want the boss to think I’m a slackard.”
“With the hours you put in, no one would think that.” She walked to his desk and handed him a folder. “Lloyd wants you to review the latest info on the Utopia project.”
Reed placed it on the top of the media plan and advertising-effectiveness reports in his jam-packed in box and made a mental note to call Nate Leeman, Senior V.P. of Technology, to see if Utopia was on schedule or not. “I’ll read it tonight.”
“It’s already so late.” Carmella’s gaze clouded with concern. “You have to sleep sometime.”
“Who needs sleep when I have all this?” He motioned to his office full of artwork from the countries he’d traveled to with his job—a job he loved more than anything. Ensuring Wintersoft’s product names and marketing strategies were meaningful and translatable into all markets and cultures was challenging. Dealing with all the planning surrounding a new product’s introduction when he could never count on the delivery date could be a huge headache and stress, but he wouldn’t change a thing. At twenty-eight, he was the youngest V.P. at the company and he wasn’t about to stop there.
She pointed to the top of Reed’s cluttered desk. “Is that a wedding invitation?”
He nodded. Carmella stuck her nose into everyone’s business, but he didn’t mind. She truly cared about her coworkers and dispensed advice with motherly warmth.
“Is another V.P. getting married?”
“Not that I know of.” In the past three months, three of Wintersoft’s
