Page 49 of The Merry Matchmaker

When Corky was a little older, they’d have a serious talk about how daddies found mommies...if Griff ever figured that out. Meanwhile, the reindeer would have to take the fall.

The bell rang, and the kids poured out of the school, a swarm of locusts anxious to get home and start devouring every Christmas cookie in sight. And there came Corky, at the end of the swarm, wearing his blue knit earflap hat with the dinosaurs on it, his red parka open and flapping. Griff could already guess what the piece of paper in Corky’s hand was.

“I got a A on my spelling test,” he announced the minute he was in the car. He handed it over for Griff to see before settling into his car seat.

“You sure did. Good job,” said Griff as Corky buckled his seat belt. “Grandma and Grandpa will be proud to hear it.” He handed it back, and his son looked at it and smiled.

“Can we FaceTime them and tell them?” asked Corky.

“Sure. As soon as we get home.”

“And can we see if Santa got my letter?”

Oh, boy. There it was. “Your letter?”

“My letter I wrote with Aunt Jenn.”

“I thought you wanted me to help you write your letter.”

“You were too busy,” Corky said, already becoming a master of parental guilting.

Griff had always been conveniently too busy when Corky asked. And if he wasn’t too busy, it was time for dinner. Or time for Corky to get ready for bed. If he’d known the stunt Jenn was going to pull, he’d never have let her take Corky for the night while he took his staff out for dinner.

“I know he got it ’cause I watched while Aunt Jenn mailed it,” Corky continued.

“That doesn’t mean he got it. Remember last year? Your letter got lost.”

“Aunt Jenn put a extra stamp on it to make sure it wouldn’t get lost this year.”

Good old Aunt Jenn. “Let’s go home and talk to Grandma and Grandpa first. Okay?”

“Okay,” Corky said, not quite so excited.

“Since when don’t you want to talk to Grandma and Grandpa?”

“I want to talk to Grandma and Grandpa,” Corky said. “Aunt Jenn said Santa would have my letter by today.”

Santa again. Griff could feel his temper rising.

He tried another tack. “Just because Santa got your letter today, it doesn’t mean he’s going to answer today.”

“Why not?” Corky asked.

“Because he has lots of kids’ letters to answer. That takes time. In fact, you might not hear from him. He can’t answer everybody.”

Corky’s face screwed up, and he blinked, a little boy on the verge of tears. “But he brings toys to everybody.”

Whoever started this Santa thing should have been forced to eat nothing but dried-out fruitcake for the rest of his life. “Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to Santa and told him what you want.”

“You did?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Griff could see the transformation in his son’s face. Good. That was taken care of.

“I did,” he said.

“A mommy!” crowed Corky, wriggling happily in his seat.

“No, not a mommy,” Griff said firmly. “You want a Monster Spotter action game,” he reminded Corky. He’d already ordered the thing and had it stored at the office.

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