“I yuv Santa,” Oliver interjects. “He’s fluffy and he has dis many raindeew and he say, ho ho ho!” He holds up both hands and sticks them forward for emphasis.
“No, Oliver,” Poppy says gently, but with the tone of a seasoned elementary teacher. “It’s this many.” She bends down one of his fingers. His brow draws in with concentration as if she’s teaching calculus.
Apparently, reindeer head counting is serious business at age three.
We stop at a park where there’s a community center building close to the lot.
“I want my hat,” Oliver says as I unbuckle him. Lexi reaches into the back of her chair and pulls out a Santa hat. I nestle it on Oliver’s head and lift him out onto the sidewalk. He puts his chubby hand in mine and we walk with Poppy and Lexi into the building.
The line of kids waiting to see Santa is impressive for this size of a town. People greet Lexi and some greet me as we take our place at the end. We inch forward and I watch Santa grabbing children, setting them on his lap and listening intently to their requests.
Santa catches my eyes between children, and the edges of his beard turn up. I’d know those eyes anywhere.
“Jesse is Santa?” I whisper to Lexi.
“Every year,” she supplies as if it’s no big deal that this single man takes his day off to play such an iconic role in the community.
“He’s surprisingly good at it,” she adds.
“Why so surprising?” I ask, obviously defensive.
“I don’t mean it like that, Mrs. Claus. It’s just not the way he is with everyone without the costume. He really gets into character. The kids love it.”
Of course they do. And I don’t miss the way she calls meMrs. Claus. I don’t correct her either. Not that I’m anywhere near considering Jesse in that way. We’re just getting to know one another. And he keeps surprising me with things like this—showing up to play Santa.
It makes me wonder. What else does Jesse Heinz have up his sleeve?
Chapter 9
Jesse
Just give me plain, baby Jesus lyin' in a manger, CHRISTMAS!
~ The Office
“Baby Jesus is missing!”Mabel’s crackling voice practically blasts into the dispatch microphone. “Repeat! The baby Jesus is missing!”
For half a second my brain registers it like a Code Three—then my mouth twitches. “Only in Bordeaux.”
Alex looks over at me, stifling a laugh. “I take it Jeanie’s taking a day off.”
“Yes. Today for your listening pleasure, we have Mabel as dispatcher.”
I push the call button on the radio mic. “What’s going on, Mabel?”
“Oh, dear! It’s baby Jesus! They’ve taken the baby Jesus!”
“Who took Jesus?” I ask.
Alex covers her mouth with her hand and squeezes her eyes shut. I grin over at her, barely maintaining my composure.
“We don’t know who. But my guess is those hooligans who were throwing snow at the nativity last week. First it's vandalism. Then it's elf abduction. And now it's full-blown manger mayhem!”
Alex mouthsManger Mayhemto me, and I cover my laughter with a cough.
I lift my finger off the call button to mutter, “Not sure the code on that one,” to Alex. More laughter ensues as she tries to regain her professionalism, but temporarily fails.
I push the button and ask, “Are you saying someone took the baby Jesus from the nativity scene, Mabel?” I have to clear my throat to disguise another threatening peal of laughter.
