Page 30 of Christmas Magic

She longed to turn around, go past the antique store, and look in and see what was happening. If Lucian saw her, though, he might get suspicious. She didn’t want to put him off eating her baking. No, she must be patient and let the sprinkles work their so-called magic.

The clock at the corner of the park gleamed in the morning sunshine and reminded her of the number of times she and Roberta had used it as a meeting point through the years. They’d been friends for a long time and had shared a lot of heartfelt things. Not knowing how her friend would react to the cookie plan, however, Cora had kept the vial of sprinkles a secret.

Spying a vacant bench in the park, Cora sat to rest her aching hip, reached into her purse, and pulled out the list she’d made earlier.

Deliver cookies to Lucian: Check.

Order flowers for the historical society party from Catnip Florals: Still to do.

Buy holiday napkins, paper plates—

“Cora.” At the familiar voice, she glanced over her shoulder. Roberta toddled toward her, coming from the section of Whiskers Road Cora had just walked. Having a sigh, Roberta flopped down on the bench.

“Are you all right? Why are you out of breath?”

Her plump friend pulled a wad of tissues out of her handbag and mopped her flushed face. “I hurried as fast as I could. Well, as fast as my poor arthritic legs would carry me.”

“Was someone chasing you?”

“No. Nothing anywhere near that exciting.” Roberta dried sweat from her decolletage. “I saw you leave the antique store but was about half a block behind you.”

“You should have called to me.”

“I did, but you didn’t hear me. Anyhow, I have something to show you.”

Cora fought not to groan. “If it’s another picture of your cat—”

“It’s not.” Roberta pulled several photographs from her bag and handed them over. The pictures showed a white-bearded man wearing a red velvet Santa suit overlaid with a flowing robe trimmed in white faux fur. A long red hat with a white pompom rested on his head, and knee-high black boots completed the look.

Cora remembered that particular Christmas party, as well as the handsome man in the photos: Fred Wilson. Despite the decades that had passed since their summer romance, just seeing pictures of him made her stomach flutter.

Roberta knew about Cora’s past with him, which made looking at the photos even more unnerving. “Why am I seeing these?”

“Look at the costume.”

“I am. He’s a Victorian Santa Claus.”

“Exactly. Fred’s daughter—the one who lives here in Cat’s Paw Cove—has the costume hanging in a closet at her house.”

Cora sucked in a sharp breath. Perfect.

Roberta giggled. “Can you imagine Lucian in this costume?”

Yesssss.Easily.

“I can pick it up tomorrow.”

“Please do.” Cora handed back the pictures.

“Since the suit features the long robe, we won’t have to worry about stuffing pillows in Lucian’s trousers.”

“We do need to see how the costume looks on him. It still might need padding in strategic places.” No way would Cora miss out on the pillow-stuffing.

“Well….”

“He must be convincing as Santa.” Cora’s excitement stirred again, along with intense yearning. Unable to resist, she gripped Roberta’s arm. “I have to tell you something.”

“Oh?” The gray-haired woman swabbed her brow with the tissues. “Good news?”