One More for Christmas

She could hear her mother’s voice.

“Tab? Shall we leave a treat for Santa? One of Mary’s cakes, perhaps? A drink?”

Samantha glanced up from her email. Had her mother really just said that? Her mother finally embraced the magical fantasy of Santa? Maybe miracles really did happen at Christmas.

Just not for her.

Determined not to feel sorry for herself, she returned to her emails, only half listening as Ella answered Tab’s questions.

“Yes, I’m sure he’ll be hungry.”

“But will he have time to stop and eat? Won’t that make him late?”

“It won’t make him late.”

“He doesn’t have a schedule?”

Samantha closed her laptop, unable to concentrate for the first time in her working life.

It could wait. It could all wait. There was more to life than work.

She stood up, scared. Where had that thought come from? What was happening to her? For once, inner Samantha seemed to be getting the better of outer Samantha.

She moved to the window seat, staring at the snow, pretending to herself that she wasn’t hoping to see Brodie striding toward the lodge wanting to talk to her about something.

What had he needed so desperately on Christmas Eve that he’d had to drive to the village?

When she could no longer justify staring, she joined her family in the living room and played with Tab, until finally the little girl went to bed and a contented hush fell over the house.

“Drink.” Ella collapsed on the sofa and waved a hand. “Michael, I need a drink.”

He grinned, poured her one and handed it to her. “Tired?”

“After all that fresh air and running around?” Ella curled her legs under her, the picture of contentment. One-handed, she typed a message into her phone. “It’s already the best Christmas ever and we haven’t had Christmas Day yet. To Nanna. And Santa.” She lifted her glass to Gayle, who had collapsed in a chair opposite her.

She envied her sister’s contentment. She’d never had that. She’d spent her life striving and driving herself, trying to be more, working to reach a goal that she hadn’t even defined. She’d been there for everyone but herself.

At least, thanks to Brodie, she now knew what she wanted.

Her phone pinged, and when she checked it, she saw a message from her sister.

So? Was it as good as the books you read??

Samantha gave her a look and Ella grinned and raised her glass in a silent toast that was just between the two of them.

“Tab insisted we put milk out for Santa,” Mary said, “but I think he would probably prefer a good single malt.” She replaced the milk with a glass of something stronger and winked at Michael.

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nbsp; Gayle stood up. “We need a boot. And ash from the fire.”

“Excuse me?”

“We need to make a big boot print on the hearth so that Tab can see where Santa stepped after he came down the chimney.”

Ella gave her a curious look. “That’s a great idea—what made you—”

“My father used to do it. One year I caught him at it. He wasn’t even wearing the boot. Just pressed it hard onto the hearth with his hand and made a few footprints.”