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“Stylish,” she said.
“Best-dressed kindergartener in the city.”
His frown eased into a nostalgic-looking smile. “It was the first time I’d ever seen the Hammond’s window displays. First time I remember seeing them anyway. We stood outside and watched them for hours. Although now that I say it out loud, it was probably more like ten minutes.”
“Time has a way of slowing down when you’re a kid.”
“That it does,” he said. “I read somewhere the passage of time changes based on how much of your lifetime you’ve lived. The author was very scientific. All I know is, on that afternoon, I could have watched those window displays forever.”
He chuckled. “In one of the windows, a bunch of animals had broken into Santa’s workshop. There was this squirrel inside a pot on one of the shelves that kept popping up. Every time he did, Justin would squeal and start laughing. Every time,” he repeated. “Like it was the first time.” And he rolled his eyes the way Noelle imagined his four-year-old self had. The image made her heart turn over.
“But you knew better,” she teased.
“Totally. Who cared about some stupid squirrel when there was a polar bear looking in the window? At least the squirrel was inside the workshop. The bear was obviously in the store. What if he ate Santa Claus?”
“Obviously.”
“Hey, don’t laugh. Polar bears can be ruthless creatures.”
“I’m not laughing.” Not much anyway. His exaggerated earnestness made staying completely serious impossible. She could picture the moment in her head. Little James, his eyes wide and serious, worried about Santa’s safety. “What did you do?”
“I thought we should call the police so they could tranquilize him, but my father assured me that all the polar bears at the North Pole were Santa’s friends, and if there was one in the store, he was probably Santa’s pet. Like a puppy.”
“And that worked?”
His gaze dropped to the table. “Yeah, it did. If my father said the polar bear was a pet, then I believed him. Funny how at that age, you believe everything your parents tell you.”
“The voice of definitive authority,” Noelle said.
“I guess,” he replied. “Anyway, we saw Santa, he told me the bear was taking a nap when I asked, and that Christmas I found a stuffed polar bear in my stocking. Damn thing sat on my bureau until junior high school.”
When his world fell apart.
Afraid he’d come to the same conclusion, she reached across the table and took his hand. He responded with a smile and a fan of his thumb across her skin.
“I bet you were an adorable little boy. Protecting Santa Claus from danger.”
“More like worried I wouldn’t get presents. I’d have gladly sacrificed Justin if it meant finding a race car set under the tree.”
“Did you?”
“You know, I don’t remember.”
But he remembered the window displays, and the polar bear toy, and his childhood wonder.
“You know,” she said, “they say Christmas brings out the child in people. That’s why adults go so gung ho for the holiday.”
“Oh, really?” He entwined their fingers. “In your case, I’d say that’s definitely true.”
“It is for you, as well. Seriously,” she said when he rolled his eyes. “You can talk about hating Christmas all you like, but today’s little adventure proves that little boy who watched the window displays is in there, way down deep.”
“That little boy also pulled off Santa’s beard.”
He was so determined to pretend he didn’t have a soft side. “Fine, be that way,” she told him. “I know better. Thou protest too much.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” she said, reaching for her glass. “You may act all cynical and talk about greeting card fantasies, but you don’t one hundred percent believe it. If you did, you’d convince your father to redo the Boston store, tourist attraction or no. We both know you could do so successfully.” Instead, he doubled down on the Christmas fantasy every year. The reason hadn’t hit her until tonight, as she looked around the winter wonderland he’d rented.
He may never have had a greeting card family Christmas, but he wanted one. Over the years, whenever she’d looked at photos of the Boston store, she had sensed a secondary emotion hovering behind the nostalgia and charm, but she could never give the feeling a name. Until tonight. Like a completed jigsaw, now that the pieces had fallen in place, she could recognize the emotion clear as day. It was longing.
