Page 67 of Meet Me at Christmas
“Yes, someone has to drive the sleigh.” He stroked his scraggly beard.
Beard.
Stella took in the roundness of Mr. Ferguson’s belly and the pink in his cheeks. Before she could ask, he said, “I could step in.”
“Do you think you could?”
“With a few more cookies, I could manage.”
“Perfect,” Mama said, her words breathless as she came in with a plate full of them in one hand while she gripped two mugs of tea in the other. “Here you go.” She set it all down in front of them and then grinned at Stella, her misty eyes sparkling. “Mr. Ferguson is our new Santa?”
“Looks like it,” Stella replied, hope floating in like a delicate snowflake.
* * *
After dinner, Stella drove Mr. Ferguson home. When she got back, she sat down at the kitchen table, staring out the window at the tiny flurries of snow falling against the purple evening sky, the sight barely registering. She’d started to work on her article, but instead, she was busy wondering if Pop could see them. She’d asked for him to solve her problem regarding something he’d been so passionate about—the parade—and magically, she’d found her Santa.
Had he helped today, or was it just wishful thinking? The house felt eerily quiet without him to pull them all together, and she’d liked to think he was still there somehow. She also missed Lily. What was her sister doing right then? Was she giggling with Mateo over something he’d said, the way she used to with Stella? She was probably having a blast in Costa Rica. Stella couldn’t blame her for enjoying her life; she was no better, ready to run off to Hamburg as soon as she could. What would Mama do when she left? She pushed it out of her mind.
She picked up the ballpoint pen she’d been using to jot down notes and tapped it against the empty pad of paper, her thoughts jumping to the Christmas Diamond. Given how much the diamond was worth, she had no clue what to do with it, apart from leave it with her mom to watch over it.
Abandoning her article entirely, Stella had another idea. She pulled her laptop across the table and opened the search engine.
“Whatcha doing?” Mama asked as she slid out the chair next to Stella. “Working?”
Stella shook her head. “I’m searching for the legal requirements when finding something that isn’t yours… to see what we should do with the Christmas Diamond.” She clicked a few keys, then scrolled until she saw a sentence she wanted to read. “This says that, legally, we could keep it until the owner comes forward.” She turned her laptop to draw Mama’s attention to it. “And that includes property found in public areas. But… It looks like each state has its own rules.” She clicked on the state of Georgia since she’d found it in Atlanta. “According to this, we have to take reasonable measures to get the item back to the owner or we face criminal liability.”
“Oh, no,” Mama said.
“I’ve called the airport where I found it several times. I think that’sreasonable. Although, the owner did move through that airport, so I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else we could do—I just don’t know what.”
“I have no idea how we’d find the owner.”
“Let’s see what the particulars are.” Stella scanned the article. “If we cannot determine the rightful owner, we have to turn it over to a government agency… and if it isn’t claimed within six months, the owner’s rights are terminated and ownership reverts to us.”
A twinge of disappointment shone in Mama’s eyes. “Certainly someone would come forward. I love that necklace already.” She laughed. “Even though I have absolutely no need for anything that fancy.”
“And it’s supposed to be bad luck,” Stella reminded her. “We haven’t had the best luck since I found it.”
Mama smiled. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, and I’ve decided that I’m siding with that ol’ Edward James from the article who relied on his faith. We have our own path and make our own luck.”
“You think?” Stella wasn’t entirely convinced.
“I know.” Mama repositioned a little bowl of candy canes she’d set out, lining it up with the two porcelain angels that stood with it. “Your dad and I barely had enough money to live on when you kids were little. With his farming job and me being a homemaker and staying with you and Lily, times were tough. But your pop restored this whole house, board by board. We played games with you kids after dinner, we caught lightning bugs on late summer nights, and we laughed—oh, did we laugh.” Mama put her hand on her heart, her expression brightening with the memories. “To an outsider who saw your beat-up shoes and thrift-store dresses, we might look like we didn’t have good luck, but we actually had the best luck.”
“Are you talking about luck or love?” Stella asked.
Mama pouted and looked over at the empty Santa suit, fondness showing in the flutter of her eyelashes. “Yeah, you’re right. It was definitely love.”
“How did we end up in different countries, given how close we were?” As soon as the question left her lips, she reminded herself that she was the one who left first.
As if she’d noticed Stella’s train of thought, Mama grabbed two candy canes from the bowl and handed one to her. “I wish we could all be together this year for Christmas.”
“Pop would’ve wanted that,” Stella said. She peeled back the plastic wrapper and tasted the cool tingle of peppermint, the sugary sweetness doing little to overcome her guilt for not spending more time with her family.
Twenty-One
Stella wasn’t expecting anyone the next morning when the doorbell rang. She’d been working on her computer, attempting to build out her argument for the relationship between happiness and cognitive function, comparing her notes from her sessions with Mr. Ferguson and Henry to her latest research. Mama had gone to her weekly yoga class, so Stella got up and rushed past the Christmas tree to get the door. When she opened it, Henry stood on the other side holding a basket full of muffins and biscuits with a big red bow tied on the handle.
