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“I think Mitch already is open to someone,” said Adele. “He’s not bringing over lattes for me, that’s for sure.”
Elinor looked toward the door. “Frankie, is the offer of a makeover still good?”
“Sure,” said Frankie. If they got Elinor all fixed up like a sexy holiday present, who knew what man might decide to take her home?
“Giving Elinor a makeover is a great idea,” Natalie said approvingly. The women cleaned up the last of the family’s Sunday supper while Warner and his daddy played with the LEGOs Gram Gram kept on hand for him. “She’s not bad-looking.”
“A better wardrobe and some makeup, and she’ll be great,” Frankie predicted.
Adele started the dishwasher. “You ready to make those snacks with Warner now?” she asked Frankie.
“Yep.” Frankie moved to the counter where she’d set the bag with the goodies she’d brought over. “Warner, it’s time to make treats,” she called.
The little boy came racing over, carrying something that resembled an airplane, his father following behind. “Look what I made, Nana,” he cried, holding it up for Frankie to inspect.
“Did you make that all by yourself?” she asked, bending over to examine it.
“He sure did,” said Jonathan as he moved to the counter to get more coffee.
“The boy’s going to grow up to design rockets,” Adele predicted.
“Or maybe he’ll grow up to be a baker,” said Frankie. “You ready to help me?”
Warner nodded eagerly.
“Okay, then, off to the bathroom to wash your hands,” said Natalie, herding him out of the room.
“You never did say. How are things going at work?” Frankie asked Jonathan. “Any better?”
He kept his back turned to them. “They’re still laying off. I hope I’ll be okay.”
“I hope so, too,” said Frankie. Even if Natalie came to work at the shop full-time, it wouldn’t be enough for them to live on. “You know what they say, a good salesman is worth his weight in gold, and you’re the company’s top salesman.”
“Life’s always full of challenges,” said Adele.
“At least you have each other, and that’s nothing to take for granted,” said Frankie.
Jonathan nodded but said nothing.
Stef filled in the silence. “I had an interesting letter for Santa. A little boy wrote in, asking Santa to bring him a mommy for Christmas.”
“What happened to his mom?” Jonathan asked.
Stef shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but I suspect she’s dead.”
“What did Santa say to him?” Frankie asked.
“That Santa can’t fit mommies in his sleigh. I think Daddy needs to have a talk with his kid.”
“You’ve got to give the boy credit for working every angle,” said Adele. “Children are good at trying different ways of getting what they want.”
“Poor little guy. I hope he gets what he wants,” said Stef. “At least I’ve let Santa off the hook.”
“Maybe you should have told the boy to come see Santa at the Santa Walk and bring his daddy and they could talk,” suggested Frankie. Stef would be there, interviewing people and taking pictures for the paper. Who knew? Maybe she and Daddy would hit it off, just like in a Hallmark movie.
“I wouldn’t want to put Mitch on the spot. After seeing Santa, the little boy would be convinced he’d be getting one, and I wouldn’t want to disillusion him,” Stef said. “Kids have to grow up too fast as it is.”
Frankie knew she was talking about her own life; when she was five, Stef’s daddy had disappeared from her life forever. She, too, had written to Santa, asking him to bring back her daddy. Adele had read the letter and sat Stef down at the kitchen table that very afternoon after school, explaining again about Daddy being in heaven with the angels. Frankie had pretended to be absorbed in her twentieth-century history book, but she’d felt herself tensing and listening.
