Edwina was working the crowd, keeping kids entertained and parents busy—not like they needed the help—by walking the line and handing each child a neon Post-it note in the shape of a snowflake and a crayon. “Don’t forget to write a list to Santa!” she said cheerily as she handed the supplies out. “You wouldn’t want to forget anything once you get up there to talk to him.”
“Hi! Hi, Edwina!” Marnie said as soon as the cartoon-like beaver got to us. “Hi! I’m Marnie. Do you remember me? You talked to my class at school!”
“Marnie Bell!” Edwina exclaimed, putting her paws on her jiggly hips. “I do remember you! And this is your sister Stephanie, right?”
“Steph,” Marnie corrected, but she was still beaming.
“And…” The beaver looked at me. Or, at least, the person who was inside the beaver looked at me—I could see there was a piece of mesh in the middle of Edwina’s smiling, buck-toothed mouth that let the wearer look straight ahead. It made the costume’s eyes slant toward the ceiling, but I don’t think anyone else noticed. “Oh my goodness, Maxfield? Maxfield Robertson?”
I recognized that voice. I hadn’t known her well before I left, but Mary Clawson had been a vocal presence at town hall meetings, most of which my father had made me attend to “get a feel for politics.” Mostly, it had made me loathe politics and all the weird, passive-aggressive ways they played out, but some people had been consistently nice, and Mrs. Clawson was one of them. She had feelings on the subject of niceness, and they weren’t always obvious ones. She’d also led the charge when it came to a recall election against my father.
“Hi, Edwina,” I said, sticking to her character even though a big part of me wanted to reach out and shake her hand…paw. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Max.”
“Max…yes, of course.” She pulled herself together quickly. “How lovely to meet you! Welcome to Edgewood! We’re so happy you’re here.” She handed each of the girls a crayon and a note then paused. “I…gracious. It really is very good to see you, Max,” she said more quietly. “I wasn’t sure we ever would again.”
My throat got a little thick. “Neither was I.” It was nice, in a way, to know that a few people at least had noted my absence as a negative over the years, instead of being glad to get rid of me.
“Truly, it’s…and to come and be with Hal and his family during their troubles, that’s a good thing, dear. We should—oh, yes, honey,” she broke off, turning to the little boy who was tugging insistently on her tail. “I’m coming with supplies for you, too. Don’t you worry.” She put aside Mary Clawson and got back to being Edwina. “Have fun with Santa, girls! Happy holidays, Max!” She kept walking down the line, and we obediently trudged a few feet closer to the tree.
Marnie stuck her Post-it to the floor and got onto her hands and knees, crayon at the ready. “I’m going to write my list down!”
“Go for it.” I turned to Steph, who was staring at her own blank note with a little frown on her face. “Can I write something down for you?” I asked, squatting down to be on her level. She nodded. “What do you want me to write?”
Steph bit her lower lip for a moment then said, “Write ‘Mommy.’”
Uh-oh. “You want Santa to bring your…mommy for Christmas?”
She nodded again.
“I don’t think Santa can put people in his sleigh, Steph. Is there something else you’d like?”
Tears began to well up in her eyes, and her chin trembled. “I want Mommy,” she whispered in a broken little voice, and—no.
“Okay, I’ll write it down,” I said in as soothing a voice as I could manage and wrote the word out in all-capital hot pink letters: MOMMY. Boy, Santa was going to love that. Hell, Hal was going to love that when I told him about it. He’d probably shut down and not talk about it, actually—that was his default when it came to Ariel. He didn’t want to take her calls, didn’t want to even mention her name to the girls…and I got it, I did. Hell, I was still conflicted by the very thought of talking to my dad after a decade. She’d done a number on him and the kids, especially Steph, but it was almost Christmas. If he couldn’t ease up and let his kids talk to their mother on Christmas, then when would he?
I’d ask, I decided. I’d ask Hal tonight about setting up a call with Ariel on Christmas Day for the girls. I’d tell him how Steph had asked for her specifically. A call, even with video, wasn’t the same as seeing her in person, but it was better than completely disappointing his daughter on Christmas, right? I knew both he and Dominic were still incredibly pissed at her for how she’d left, but I could argue that the holidays should be considered a very special occasion.
Ten minutes later, it was our turn to see Santa. The girls went up together, and Marnie took the lead on chatting about a dog, although she also mentioned wanting a Princess Starlight dollhouse and a jeweled butterfly tiara. Steph didn’t do more than give her note to Santa and hold her sister’s hand, but they both were pretty cheerful after they got down from his lap. Santa, meanwhile, gave me the most serious expression I’d ever seen on Saint Nick’s face and motioned me over to him.
“Did you see this?” he asked me in a low voice, pointing at Steph’s note.
“Yeah, I wrote it.”
“Are you going to do something about it?” He looked slightly hunted. “Her mother isn’t dead, is she? I’ve had two kids already today asking me to bring back dead pets. I’m freaking Santa, not a necromancer!”
I almost cracked an inappropriate smile at that. “No, she’s not dead,” I assured him. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Good. Cute kids, man, just…Jesus, that’s too heavy for me, you know?”
Did I ever. But I was resolved to do something about it.
While Marnie took Steph to the restroom, I searched for Ariel’s number in my phone. We hadn’t communicated in months, since before she disappeared on her family. I tapped out a quick message and sent it before I could second-guess myself any harder. It wasn’t much, just letting her know that if she wanted to talk to the girls on Christmas, she could call my phone and I’d pick up. I’d have to get Hal’s permission first, so I hoped she understood that.
I wasn’t expecting a quick reply, but less than a minute later, I got, Oh my god, thank you, when? I swallowed hard and sent back a time I hoped would work then put my phone away as the girls came back into sight.
…
It started to snow just as we got back home. Marnie wanted to go out back and start on another snowman—she had to add a dog to the family, apparently—but I convinced them it was better to wait for it to pile up a little more before we started trying to roll it into balls. Instead, we worked on some coloring books together before I went to get started on shepherd’s pie.