A Billionaire for Christmas

Damien’s in the process of swinging Anne up onto his shoulders when he sees Ryan, too, and he flashes a wry smile at me. “Be right back,” he says, then gallops toward Ryan as Anne squeals and cries, “Horsey, Daddy! More horsey!”

I watch the men long enough to see that both their expressions are serious, but then Lara tugs at my arm to tell me that Ronnie just got a candy cane from a passing elf, and it wouldn’t be fair if she didn’t get to have one, too. “So can I, please? Pretty please?”

“Yes, you can. And thank you for asking.”

Lara beams, and the elf in question holds out a wicker basket full of candy canes.

“Tis the season,” Sylvia says, then taps Ronnie’s nose. “But not for cavities. What are you going to do when we get home?”

“Brush my teeth. Mommy, I know.”

Sylvia meets my gaze. “Parenting. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“It’s really not,” I agree, right before I hop nimbly over the rope that marks the line. Not because I’m feeling particularly energetic, but so that I can retrieve Anne, who’s shimmied down Damien and is making a break for it across the snowy field.

“Gotcha,” I say, scooping her up and tickling her as Damien aims a grateful smile my direction. “Come on. We’re almost to Santa.”

“No,” she mumbles then tucks her head on my shoulder and holds on tight.

“No?”

She just shakes her head.

“It’s okay. You can stay out here with Mommy.” Ashley used to tell me that I was scared of Santa when I was little, too. “In fact, why don’t we stay just long enough to take some pictures of your big sister, then you and I will go ride the train while Lara and Ronnie do the big girl stuff?”

“She’s not a big girl,” Ronnie protests.

“She is by comparison,” Sylvia says. “Besides, you two will have a blast, and you know it.”

“Okay?” I ask Lara, though I needn’t bother. She worships Ronnie.

She nods vigorously, and Anne and I stay until both girls have seen Santa and we’ve taken so many pictures our phones are probably going to explode. “Is Jeffery going to sit on Santa’s lap?”

“He didn’t even get as far as Anne. We tried earlier, then gave up. He’s off somewhere with Jackson. I’d find him and take him on the train with you two, but I’m going to be a selfish mommy, go find a stand selling wine, and browse some of the vendor booths while the girls are in the craft tents.”

As part of the event, all the children’s craft tents double as childcare, allowing for much-needed parental recovery time.

“No judgment,” I assure her.

I glance toward where Ryan and Damien had been talking, but they’re gone, and an unpleasant knot of worry settles in my stomach.

“Nikki?”

I shake it off. “Sorry. Mind wandering. Listen, if you see Evelyn or Ollie, tell them I’ve been looking for both of them. Jamie, too,” I add, even though we had time to talk earlier at brunch and in the limo.

“Will do. I saw Kelsey. I told her that Lara and Ronnie are here and that we’re all excited about the show.”

A prominent dancer and choreographer, Kelsey Draper also runs a dance studio for children and adults. More than that, she’s both a friend and the wife of Wyatt Royce, a photographer who occasionally gives lessons to both me and Sylvia. Kelsey volunteered to choreograph and direct the show, and from what little I know about herding groups of children, I think that qualifies her for sainthood.

“Mommy!” Ronnie runs up to us, Lara right behind her. “Can we go do crafts now? Please, please?”

“Absolutely,” she says as I kiss Lara goodbye and elicit a promise to be good for her aunt and the teachers in the tent.

Then Anne and I head off to find the train, and as a bonus find Ollie.

“There’s my favorite girl,” he says, bending down to pick up Anne without breaking stride as he falls in step beside me.

I hook my arm through his free one as Anne balances on his opposite hip. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Where’s your other half? And the other quarter for that matter?”

“Damien’s talking business with Ryan.” I make a face.

“Crisis at Christmas?” he asks as he buys three tickets for the little train.

“I don’t know.”

He pauses long enough to take a long, hard look at me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not that big a deal. Well, not the part with Damien. He was a little absent at brunch, but I get it. Things happen. But Frank won’t be here for the recital or the party or even Christmas morning. He says he’s stuck in Mexico. So I’m just … I don’t know, selfish I guess. I mean, like I said, things happen. I know he’s bummed about it, too.”