Page 26 of Please Send Snow
“How did you think of this list?” I ask him.
His little head pops up and he smiles.
“Maddie says you always ask for just one thing for yourself, then something for someone else, and a last thing for everybody,” he tells me proudly.
“She does, huh?” I say, reaching over to tousle his hair.
“I think it’s nice,” he says dreamily before bending over his work again.
He concentrates so hard on the writing, like he’s chiseling the letters in stone or something. Maybe it will get easier for him with practice.
As Dylan finishes up, Maddie finally reappears with a tentative expression on her face.
“Sorry about that,” she says softly, removing her jacket and hanging it on the back of her chair.
She’s wearing the same clothing as yesterday.
Her gaze follows mine back to her sweater and she gets this mortified look on her face.
“I think I know what’s going on,” I chuckle.
“You do?” She still looks horrified, but she really shouldn’t be.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I tell her. “It happens to everyone at some point. The airline lost your luggage.”
There’s a brief pause and then she shakes her head in wonder.
“How did you guess that?” she asks.
“It’s why I always fly private,” I tell her. “We can stop in the village before we go back to my place and pick you up a few things.”
“I don’t… I mean I can’t…” she stammers.
Good grief, hercredit cardswere in her checked bags? Talk about overconfidence.
“I’ll cover it,” I tell her. “Not a big deal. You need warm clothes if you’re going to be taking care of Dylan up on the mountain. He likes to go outside.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but then she closes it again.
“Thank you,” she says.
“It worked,” Dylan whispers to himself.
“What worked?” she asks him.
“He finished his letter,” I say quickly, grabbing it from him and folding it in half.
I get up and Dylan scrambles after me so he can put it in the box himself.
As I watch him place it carefully with the others, I wonder why I’m being so protective of Maddie’s feelings. She might find it cute that Dylan is asking Santa to give her clothing.
But probably not. She’s a funny little thing. She had such a guilty look on her face when she agreed to let me buy her clothes.
Anyway, the letter is safely stowed in the box now, and Dylan is already scampering back to her and asking what color clothes she likes best.
“I don’t really have a preference,” she tells him, looking surprised that he asked.
“Don’t worry,” he tells her. “We’ll find something you like, okay?”
