Page 85 of The Merry Matchmaker

Good for Tommy’s mommy, thought Griff, and tried not to frown. After the letter to Santa mess, the last thing he wanted to do was to fight the crowds downtown on Saturday just so he could take his son to see a fraud in a red suit. The whole Santa thing was such a lie. People shouldn’t lead their kids on. Especially when their kids thought that Santa moonlighted as Cupid.

“You can’t not take your kid to see Santa,” Jenn had insisted when she checked in to see how Corky was doing.

Sure, he could.

“It will be fun for Corky, and who knows? You might actually have fun yourself. It would be good for you to get out, meet new people.”

“What new people?” he’d demanded. He had enough people in his life.

The pretty woman he’d met in the coffee shop came to mind. What were the odds he’d ever see her again? Maybe he needed to go back to the coffee shop and find out. He sure preferred meeting new people there to fighting the crowds at the Santa Walk.

“I don’t know, just people,” Jenn had said. “Get out there and pretend you’re a human being.”

Being a human being was exhausting.

So was coping with his son.

“I want to go see Santa,” Corky said at dinner. He stuffed a chicken nugget in his mouth and watched his father, waiting for an answer.

“Come on, bud, you don’t really want to do that. The guy didn’t even answer your letter.” Yep, no lying happening here.

Corky frowned. “Tommy said his mommy saw my letter, and Santa answered it.”

It was all Griff could do not to swear. “I bet he didn’t promise you a mommy.”

Corky’s lower lip jutted out. “I want to see Santa,” he muttered, and kicked the table leg.

“We have other things to do tomorrow,” Griff said. He’d think of something.

Corky scowled and pushed away his dinner plate, which held two more chicken nuggets, some reheated french fries and carrot sticks. Carrot sticks always made up for french fries, right?

“You need to eat your dinner,” Griff said sternly.

“I want to see Santa.”

“We’re not going to see Santa!”

Corky let out a wail, and tears began to trickle down his cheek. “I just want to see Santa,” he sobbed.

Sobs and tears and a heartbroken little boy. Griff felt like a monster. “Okay, we’ll go see Santa,” he said.

Corky took a jagged breath and smiled.

“But only if you ask him for toys. He’s not going to bring you a mommy. Got it?”

Corky’s lower lip trembled. He pressed down on it, stared at the dinner plate. Finally, he nodded.

“Okay, then,” said Griff as if he’d actually gotten a promise. And if he saw that Stefanie Ludlow, who’d started this mess, he was going to let her have it.

Elinor was renting a cozy little one-bedroom place. Frankie noticed the hand-crocheted afghan on Elinor’s couch when she walked in and suspected it was a gift from a relative.

“Your afghan’s lovely,” she said.

Sure enough, “My grandma sent it to me as an early Christmas present.”

Elinor was ready for Christmas. She’d decorated a small tree with pink LED lights she’d purchased at the shop and silver balls as well as some collectible ornaments probably saved over from childhood. She’d put an Advent wreath on her kitchen table, and an elegantly sculpted Santa-face teapot sat on her little kitchen counter.

Frankie recognized the maker of the teapot immediately. “Fitz and Floyd, right?” she said as she set the takeout bag on the counter.

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