Page 38 of Santa Loves Curvy Girls

I held the wooden handle in my gloved hands and focused on the scrape of metal over cement. It was time to go back to my normal life, with snow shoveling, volunteering on Saturdays at Santa’s Elves, hanging out with my friends, and pretty soon, going back to being the star quarterback of the high school football team. My old life would have to be enough.

Everything that had happened with Belle had been special, but it looked like it wasn’t something I’d get to keep in my life after all.

24

BELLE

Mom handed me a letter as I came out of my room to eat breakfast. “Mail for you, sweetie.”

I took the envelope from her, confused. “For me?” No one ever sent me mail; everyone I knew preferred to text or send emails. But when I looked at the white paper and the stamp decorated with a Christmas tree, I found my name was right there at the top.

I sat down at the kitchen table to open it while Yeti followed me and sat at my feet. Who would be writing me a letter?

My first thought went to Santa, my heart aching with hope. But I pushed him out of my mind. We had agreed it was over. And as I looked at the letter inside the envelope, I saw that the letter wasn’t from Santa at all.

It was from Scrooge at the diner, wanting to order a batch of cookies. A few crisp twenty-dollar bills stared up at me.

I looked between the letter and the money, trying to make sense of it. I’d never told him that I had cookies for sale…

I kept reading, taking in his neat, slanted handwriting. He wanted an order of several dozen decorated sugar cookies to start. He wanted to add them to his display case and see if hiscustomers liked them. He asked if I could have the cookies ready within the week, and said to call him if I needed more time.

“Who is it from?” Mom asked, setting a bowl of oatmeal in front of me and peeking over my shoulder. I handed her the letter while sniffing the maple cinnamon oatmeal. It made my mouth water.

“You’re selling batches of cookies now?” she asked, setting the letter on the table beside my bowl. “Good for you.”

“I didn’t know I was,” I muttered, reading the letter again.

She went back to making breakfast for Dad and my brother, who were the late risers in our family, while my thoughts went back to Santa again. He had told me that he and his mom went to Scrooge’s every year on Christmas Day. Was this his doing?

Maybe he really did care for me like I cared for him. My heart dangerously hoped it wasn’t just a fling.

I bit my lip as tears welled up in my eyes.

The truth was that I missed him so much. That final goodbye with him had crushed me, especially because he’d taken the news so well, hardly any emotion showing in his deep blue eyes.

But this cookie order had to be him. He’s the only one who knew about my dreams of opening a bakery one day, besides Mom.

I wiped away a single tear that rolled down my cheek.

What should I do?

Mom seemed to answer for me as she sat across from me at the table with her own bowl of oatmeal. “So, sounds like you’re going to spend the morning baking?”

I stood up and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

She patted me on the arm as I walked past her with my half-empty bowl. “Good for you, hon,” she said.

After rinsing out my bowl, I got everything ready, determined to make the best batch of cookies for my first order. I gathered all my ingredients and began measuring everythingout. Even though Christmas had passed, I played Christmas music softly in the background. The rule in this household—and most of Garland—was that we pretty much played Christmas music from November 1 to February 1. That was about the time people took down their trees too. Most people, anyway.

But Christmas music didn’t seem as happy today as it usually did. As I began making the dough, I noticed my mind kept drifting back to Santa. More than ever, I wished I just knew his real name. My heart hurt as I used the special machine he gave me to form the cookie shapes. I couldn’t even tell him thank you for getting me my first order–if it was really him behind this.

Would I think about him every Christmas for the rest of my life? Every time I got a cookie order?

I sighed and took a step back to look at my work. Probably.

My dad and brother woke up a little later, coming in and out of the kitchen while I baked the cookies and prepped the frosting. Within a few hours, the cookies were ready. And I had to admit… They looked perfect.

I packaged them up in cookie tins we had on hand, making a mental note to order some special boxes and labels I could use going forward. Especially if Scrooge was going to be a regular customer. Now I had money to invest back into the business.

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