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“He doesn’t really know I texted you,” Joy whispered, her gaze locked on the garment bag on the couch. “But with every mile, my heart ached deeper, its message obvious. I was making a mistake. It was almost as if a voice in my head told me I was getting this part wrong.”

“What did that voice say?” Marci asked, and Joy grimaced.

“Promise you won’t think my head injury is worse than it is?” Joy asked, taking her friend’s hand. She hadn’t told Marci yet that she and Kian owned the mall. They’d decided to wait and share the news after the holidays. They were running nonstop and being called away at a moment’s notice, so waiting until things settled down made sense. Joy also wanted to wait until she spoke with the lawyer to know exactly what it meant for them going forward.

“No, I understand that this has everything to do with grief and nothing to do with a head injury.”

“It does.” She heaved a heavy sigh before speaking again. “The voice kept saying, ‘Sometimes courage looks like a coat.’”

With her chin trembling, Marci nodded. “I can probably guess the voice that said that.”

“The funny part is that as soon as I heard it, I knew she was right. The coat isn’t the problem.”

“It’s what the coat represents,” Marci said, and Joy nodded. “That if you put it on, you’ll never live up to who Lorelei was.”

“That,” Joy said. “But then I remembered the letter that came with the coat and realized how much she trusted that I could live up to her expectations. That I knew how to carry on her legacy.”

“An aha moment,” Marci said, unzipping the garment bag. “I’m so glad you realized that before it was too late. Do you want help with it?”

“I thought I should wait for Kian because I don’t want to blindside him.” Joy smiled a watery smile until Marci reached out and took her hand. Being so close to the coat again filled Joy with equal measures of comfort and anxiety, but she knew in her heart she was making the right decision.

“Of course, that makes sense. I’ll leave you to it and head back to the mall. Send me a picture, please?”

“You know you’ll get all the pictures,” Joy promised, hugging her friend quickly before Marci pulled her gloves back on. “And don’t speed on the way back.”

With a wink, Marci slipped through the doors and hurried back to her car. Joy stood staring at the coat, wondering what it would feel like to slip her arms into the sleeves and wrap it around herself. Would she feel like an imposter? Would she feel Lorelei’s love? Would it be both, all, some, or everything? A tear fell, but she didn’t wipe it away. Today was filled with so much grief and happiness that her brain was struggling to keep up.

“Joy?”

Kian’s voice ripped her from her swirling thoughts. When she turned, he was in his Santa suit, his beard nearly perfect. She fixed it just so, smiling. “There’s my handsome Santa,” she whispered.

“Why is Mom’s coat on the couch?” His voice was full of curiosity, not anger or grief.

“Marci dropped it off. On the drive over, my heart and a little voice in my ear said I’d made the wrong choice by not bringing it.”

“You were quiet, but I figured you were trying to prepare yourself emotionally. This was always your favorite thing to do with Mom.”

“It still surprises me how well you know me. On the way here, I couldn’t help but think back to the years Lorelei and I did this event. I realized that when she left me the coat, she didn’t expect me to be her. She expected me to carry on the tradition and make it my own.”

“And you can’t do that without the coat?” he asked, confusion coloring his voice.

Joy pounded her fist against her chest and shook her head. “It feels wrong without it. It feels wrong for Santa to lead the way down the hallway. It feels wrong that she’s not here!”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug until she got herself under control. “You can feel however you want about it this year, baby. It’s the first year without her.”

“Maybe it is, but I have everything I need to carry on her legacy, so this little voice in my head says I should. Sometimes courage looks like a coat.”

Kian’s shoulders rounded as he let out a breath. “It’s like you punched me with that sentence.” He fell silent, his chin wobbling. She grasped his coat, worried as his lip trembled. “I heard those same words the first time I put on the Santa coat at the mall. It was just a whisper, but it was the only reason I could get on that sleigh and be merry. Damn.” Biting his lip, Kian gazed at her, tears in his eyes. “Sometimes courage looks like a coat, baby.” Turning, he lifted the coat off the hanger and held it out, waiting for her to step into it. “You are the most courageous person I know, Joy Brady. Show the world that.”

Leaning her crutches against the couch, she slipped her right arm into the coat first, then her left, feeling it settle over her shoulders, heavy with legacy and love. Kian walked around to face her, taking his time to fasten the buttons until the coat was buttoned up tight.

“It fits like a glove, but I’m not surprised,” he said through tears. He lifted the Victorian-style Mrs. Claus cap Lorelei had made to match the coat and settled it on her head, helping her straighten the lace and ribbons since she didn’t have a mirror.

Finally, she took his hands and held them. “Are you okay with this? Be honest. If you’re not, I’ll take it off.”

“You absolutely will not take it off. Your transformation is stunning. The moment the coat settled around you, your shoulders squared, and the glow returned to your cheeks. Mom knew exactly who should wear this coat in her absence. I would never get in the way of that, even if watching you take it over is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Only because she’s gone, not because you aren’t the most breathtaking Mrs. Claus I’ve ever seen. Does that make sense?”

“Sure does,” she said, her chin trembling as he handed her the crutches. “I love you, Santa. We’ll get through this together, right?”