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“He means he doesn’t do gingerbread cookies, eggnog, carols, or season’s greetings,” Frankie replied with a smug grin. “No presents wrapped in shiny paper, no icicle lights, no stockings hung by the chimney with care. The man’s a true Scrooge, in modern times. Don’t even bother arguing.”
Lance frowned at his assistant, not quite grateful for the help. He wouldn’t exactly classify himself as a Scrooge. The occasional eggnog didn’t hurt. But no, he didn’t do Christmas trees.
“You can’t be serious.” Gemma unwrapped the scarf from her neck, her eyes wide in disbelief. “What about It’s a Wonderful Life? Or Santa Claus? Or Christmas cookies?”
“Not a fan,” Lance said before Frankie could jump in. “But that’s just me.”
She wavered in the doorway, as if unsure what to do next. He could tell by the look on her face it truly bothered her that he didn’t like Christmas.
“I’ve decided. You’re coming with,” she said finally with a determined yank of the scarf back over her head. He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up her finger. “No, no, no, no arguing. Nobody can stay a Scrooge at the Children’s Home. We’re going to break you, mister.
”
Lance grinned down at the papers on his desk. She certainly could try her best to turn him around, but he doubted very much that she’d succeed.
The Children’s Home was a beautiful large red brick manor just outside New Hope. A shiny brass sign with the school’s name impressed upon it greeted them as they drove up the drive in Chloe’s used Mercedes. Once again, Frankie had elected to stay at the office. Lance had the feeling he’d skipped back to the motel to watch TV for the rest of the day. He couldn’t really blame him.
“The home houses over thirty boys at a time,” Laurie said to him from the front seat. “Currently, they’re at max capacity.”
“These are orphans?” he asked, glancing at Gemma.
“Some.” She leaned to look out the windshield, their shoulders brushing. “But most are stuck in the foster care system and have troubles keeping a foster family. It’s sort of a last resort place.”
“But don’t let that fool you,” Laurie added in a soft tone. “These boys are just like any other kids. They need love and security.”
Chloe nodded her head, peering up at the rear view mirror. “They’ve just gotten a bad rap in life, that’s all.”
He couldn’t imagine starting life in such a rough way. As a child, he’d had two very loving parents and they certainly hadn’t wanted for much. Even after his dad passed away, he still had his mother. She liked to call him every Sunday afternoon for an update on his life. He used to think of those calls as a minor nuisance, but suddenly he felt grateful.
“Oh, there’s Jamie,” Laurie squealed. She pointed at the troop of boys who had just piled out the front door. “And Brett and Nigel. I missed my little buddies.”
The kids crowded around the car as they parked. Gemma and the girls passed out giant bear hugs to each of them as they laughed and shouted for their attention. Several of the smaller boys clung to the women’s hands, pulling them toward the door.
“Come on, Lance,” Gemma said over her shoulder and flashed him a smile. “Don’t fall behind.”
He paused another moment next to the car. A strange warm feeling was building in his chest as he watched Gemma lead the troops inside. It was strange to think that only a few days ago he’d thought she was this evil witch. But here, she was like an angel, surrounded by adoring fans. The difference between the two was like night and day. He was starting to realize how blind he’d been in the beginning.
“Coming, mister?” A little boy with blond hair and thick black-rimmed glasses peered up at him. The thickness of his glasses made his eyes appear three times bigger. He sniffled and then placed his hand inside of Lance’s gloved hand. “I’m Brandon.”
“Um…Lance.” He didn’t know how to respond. Kids weren’t exactly his thing either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to anyone under the age of twenty.
“I’m six years old.” Brandon had to bend his head back all the way to look Lance in the eye. “Six and a half. How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine,” he replied with a wince. Yikes, that sounded ancient next to a six year old. “Twenty-nine and a quarter.”
Brandon smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re old.”
“Tell me about it.” He could feel a smile warming up his cheeks. This kid didn’t pull punches. He liked that. “What do you say we join the others.”
Brandon nodded and they headed into the home. A giant lobby greeted them, complete with a large wooden fireplace that cackled and popped with life. Along the length of the longest wall there were a few dozen coat hooks. Several boys had stripped off their winter coats and boots and were stashing them on their assigned hooks, their names in bold lettering under each one. Someone had wrapped garland around the grand wooden staircase that led to the second floor. Despite the size of the room, it felt quite warm and cheery. The ecstatic chatter of a dozen boys helped that impression, making Lance smile.
“That’s our tree,” Brandon said, pointing to a naked evergreen perched in the middle of the room. “It’s taller than you. I helped cut it down.”
“That’s huge,” he said with a grin. “I don’t think I could cut down something that big. You’re strong.”
The little boy puffed out his chest with pride.
“Do you want to place the first ornament, Mr. Scrooge?” Gemma appeared at his side, holding out a grotesquely painted ceramic Santa with golden bells on his coat. She spotted Brandon, who still clung to his hand. “Oh, you’ve made a friend.”
