Page 7 of Falling for Santa

“I think I’ve got it,” Megan replied, though her smile faltered slightly as a toddler broke away from the line and darted toward the sleigh.

Scott followed her gaze. “Hold that thought.”

He strode toward the runaway, catching the boy just as he climbed onto the sleigh’s edge. “Whoa there, buddy,” Scott said, scooping him up and spinning him around. “Santa’s sleigh is a little slippery. Let’s keep you safe on the ground, huh?”

The boy giggled, his earlier mischief forgotten, and Scott handed him back to his relieved mother. Megan watched the interaction, momentarily struck by the ease with which Scott handled the situation.

When he returned, Scott grinned. “See? Piece of cake.”

“You make it look easy,” Megan said, shaking her head.

He shrugged. “It’s all about the voice. The big guy has to sound confident.”

As the day wore on, Megan grew more comfortable in her role. She handed out candy canes, answered questions about Santa’s favorite reindeer (“Definitely Cupid, but don’t tell the others”), and even joined in a carol when a group of kids started singing “Jingle Bells” near the sleigh.

At one point, a little boy tripped and dropped his candy cane, shattering it on the cobblestones. Megan knelt beside him, her costume jingling obnoxiously.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, holding out a fresh one from her basket. “Here you go. It’s even bigger than the last one.”

The boy’s tears stopped almost instantly as he grabbed the candy cane and ran back to his dad. Megan let out a small breath of relief, only to hear Scott’s laugh behind her.

“You’re a natural,” he said, resting his hands on his hips.

“Hardly,” she replied, standing and brushing off her tights. “I’m one spilled cocoa away from a meltdown.”

Scott chuckled. “You’ll survive. And for the record, that was a textbook elf move.”

She kept trucking along and by the end of the day, Megan’s feet were aching, her cheeks hurt from smiling, and her costume felt twice as heavy as it had that morning. But as she stood by the sleigh, watching Scott hoist the last child of the evening onto his lap, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of pride.

She’d made it through.

When Scott finally joined her, his hat slightly askew and his beard in need of adjusting, he clapped her on the back. “Not bad for your first day.”

Megan laughed, shaking her head. “I survived. Barely.”

“Survival’s half the battle,” Scott said, his grin as warm as ever. “See you tomorrow, elf.”

As he walked away, Megan found herself smiling despite her exhaustion. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she could make this work.

The warm glow of Miss Doris’s beachfront home greeted Megan as she pulled into the driveway, her headlights illuminating the wreath on the front door. She barely had time to step out of the car before Ruby came running down the front steps, arms outstretched and curls bouncing.

“Mama!” Ruby cried, clutching a piece of paper in one hand as she barreled into Megan’s legs.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Megan crouched to gather her daughter into a hug, exhaustion melting away, at least momentarily, in the face of Ruby’s uncontainable joy. “Did you have fun?”

Ruby nodded enthusiastically, holding up the crumpled paper. “Look! I made a picture for Santa!”

Megan took the drawing, smiling at the colorful scribbles that depicted a reindeer pulling a sleigh. “Cupid, right?” she asked, remembering their conversation from earlier in the week.

“Uh-huh! Miss Doris told me about him,” Ruby said, bouncing on her toes.

“She was a delight,” Miss Doris said from the doorway, her voice warm as ever. “We’ve been busy reading books, making cookies and coloring, haven’t we, Ruby?”

Ruby nodded, flashing a cookie crumb-covered grin that made Megan laugh despite the ache in her feet. “Sounds like you’ve been having more fun than me,” Megan teased.

Miss Doris stepped aside and motioned toward the door. “Come on in, both of you. You look like you’ve had quite a day.”

Megan hesitated, glancing back toward the car. “I don’t want to impose, Miss Doris. It’s late, and you’ve already done so much?—”

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