Page 35 of Home for Christmas in July

“Jamal said to let him know if you want him to find another replacement. He can’t sub in himself because he’s running the reindeer relays.”

I pause, but only for a beat. Xander was right. I am Summer Santa. Pushing it off on Josh never felt completely right, and now that the job’s back in my lap, I need to step up and suit up in the summer-weight Santa suit.

“No, I’ll do it. I just need to track down the suit.” I hear squealing and shouting in the background. “Am I on speaker?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We were hoping that’s what you say,” Ivy confesses.

“No worries, Dad. Jamal brought your suit. It’s hanging in the hall closet,” Holly shouts.

“Love you, Santa!” Merry says.

“About the suit, Dad. Josh may have had it altered,” Ivy explains.

“Understood. I’ll see you soon,” I tell my celebrating daughters. Then, shaking my head, I end the call and catch Noelle’s eyes. “Did you get all that?”

“The gist. Ryan’s mom needs some help?”

“Yeah. She broke her elbow and her knee.”

“I’m sorry she got hurt, but senior roller derby is no joke.”

“Ryan’s mother is on a roller derby team? Isn’t she, like, a hundred?”

“At least. But I’m told she’s one heck of a jammer.” A soft smile touches her lips. “I’m glad you’re going to be Santa.”

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I return the smile. Then I gesture toward the envelope. “Can we put this clue on hold for a few hours? I need to make sure the suit still fits. If Josh already had it taken in, I’m going to need to do some emergency alterations.”

My imagination must be playing tricks on me because it looks exactly as if she’s running her eyes over my chest and shoulders with a greedy expression. “Right, of course.” She checks her watch. “Why don’t you stop by the library after you get your costume sorted out and we’ll open the clue then?”

“It’s a date—I mean, a plan. Not a date. It’s aplan.”I trip over my words like a schoolboy, but she just gives me a puzzled look. Get a grip, Jolly.

CHAPTER 15

Noelle

After I send Farah off with instructions to spread the news that Nick Jollywillbe appearing as Santa Claus this weekend, I settle behind the circulation desk and flip through the morning’s messages. I have a private office—a nice one—but I’d rather be out here on the floor with my community, so I rarely use the director’s space. I can’t wipe the grin off my face at the thought of Nick putting on the Santa suit. Judging by the excited conversation and laughter of the library patrons, I’m not the only one. I hate that Ryan’s mom’s been injured, but if it had to happen, she picked a good time. And Lois is a tough bird. She’ll bounce back.

I open the grant proposal instruction packet I’ve been avoiding all week. But the dry, technical language is no match for the distraction in my pocket. I surreptitiously slip myhand into my pocket and pat the clue to reassure myself that it’s still there. What possessed me to tell Nick I’d wait for him to open it? I don’t mind waiting to search for the next clue together, but I am itching to know what the clueis.Having this tiny temptation tucked into my pocket is torture.

I take the envelope from my pocket, place it on the desk, and return to the grant documents. But this is no better. If anything, it’s worse. Clue No. 4 stares up at me, silently screaming ‘open me!’ I flip it over. Nope, it’s still distracting. Finally, I slide it under my coffee mug and will myself not to look at it.

The afternoon drags on. After three-quarters of an eternity, I estimate it’s got to be four, almost five, o’clock. When I look at my watch and see that it’s ten minutes after one, I groan. Loudly.

Over in the atrium, Brent Stillwater looks up in surprise from the chessboard where he’s in the process of mopping the floor with his grandfather.

“Miss Winters, are you okay?” he squeaks.

Embarrassed by my outburst, I reassure the town’s five-year-old chess prodigy that I’m just fine. I check my phone and see a text from Nick:

Suit needs work. Headed to Ariana’s for alterations now. Shouldn’t be long.

I text him back ‘np,’ even thought it’s not no problem. It’s a big problem called impatience. Then I firmly remind myself that I’m happy that Nick is going to play Santa, he needs his costume to fit in order to do so, and the clue isn’t going anywhere. This works. For approximately forty-five seconds.

Before I can second guess myself I snatch the envelope up from under the mug. If I slice open the envelope sealverycarefully, I could read the clue and reseal the envelope. Nick would never have to know.Besides, this ismyscavenger hunt. Nick’s only tagging along to keep me company—or out of some misguided protective instinct. And, anyway, I’m not going to hunt for the clue without him. What’s the harm in a sneaking a peek? It’s no different from reading an excerpt of a novel before buying it or watching a movie trailer.

My mental gymnastics have just about convinced me to open the envelope when I hear my name being called from across the library. I drop it like it’s radioactive and jerk my head up in time to see two of the three Field sisters heading toward me.

“Hi, Sage. Hi, Thyme.” I greet them with a wide smile that I hope looks innocent, or at least not guilty, and maintain steady eye contact with them while I shove the clue back under my coffee mug.

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