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“You warm enough?”
“Toasty-warm.” West rubbed his mitts together and pressed them to his face. Tad piled in on his other side, and Will flicked his crop.
“Ready to go?”
All three of them cheered, and the sleigh began to move. The kids ran alongside till they passed the tents, then most of them broke off for snacks and hot cocoa. Will swung around the pond, and out past the trees, and Sarah tried to see it all through West’s brand-new eyes—the horses, all decked out in red and gold. The big spruce by the barn dressed up for Christmas, bright lights and sparkles from top to root. She spotted a deer poised on a distant hill, and when she pointed it out, West lit up with wonder.
“I never saw one before, except on TV.”
“It’s snowing,” said Tad, and Sarah saw he was right, the first fluffy flakes settling in his hair. He brushed one off her shoulder, and her heart nearly broke. This should’ve been so perfect—the horses, the bells, the fresh fall of snow—a sweet foretaste of Christmas, family gathered around the tree. Instead, when she caught Tad’s eye, she felt the distance between them.
“We should talk,” she whispered. “When we get ho— Back to my house.”
Tad nodded assent, but by the time the festivities wrapped up—every gingerbread man eaten, every child ready for bed—Sarah was dead on her feet, and so was Tad. They put West to bed and stood at the head of the stairs.
“It might be easier if we just let this one go.”
Sarah couldn’t breathe. Did he mean their disagreement, or did he mean…them?
“I mean, you said sorry already, and I know I feel bad.” Tad leaned on the banister. “Maybe it’d be better if we left it at that.”
Sarah bit her lip. Maybe Tad was right—maybe some cans of worms were better left closed.
“Okay,” she said. “Hug me goodnight?”
Tad hugged her tightly. Sarah hugged back, and then she was watching him trudge downstairs. She wanted to call him back—no, let’s have this out!But would that make things better, or just make them worse?
11
“Imade a new list for Santa,” West announced.
Tad looked up from his blueprints. He’d been hoping to get a head start on Vince’s renovations, but West was bored and clingy today, wanting Tad’s attention.
“Okay, buddy,” said Tad. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
West handed him the list. He’d gone all-out on this one, four colors of crayon and a whole tube of glitter. Tad held it carefully, trying to contain the sparkles.
“A Transformers watch…the newWimpy Kid…” His brows drew together at an unexpected item. “What’s this? A ten-speed? You mean a bike?”
“I saw one at Colt’s, up in the window.” West bounced where he stood. “It’s so cool. It has flames down the side, and a bellanda basket. I could ride it to school with my lunch in the front.”
Tad pressed his lips together. He’d seen that bike, a brand-new red Schwinn. It cost two hundred dollars. He couldn’t afford that, not even close. Not with Wally White’s job pushed off till spring and Vince’s hanging in the balance. A year ago, he’d have swung it, knowing his next job would be just around the corner. But now, starting over, with no idea how much work to expect for the coming year—
“You think Santa’ll bring it?” West’s expression turned worried. “It’s almost Christmas already. How long does it take a letter to reach the North Pole?”
Tad narrowed his eyes, fighting the beginnings of a headache. He had a choice here. He could do what his dad did, back when Tad was West’s age—he could do that, but the thought made him sick. It still felt like yesterday, how he’d run to Dad with his own Christmas list, decorated for Santa, just like West’s. He’d been seven and eager, on a candy cane high. And okay, so maybe he’d gone a bit nuts, the scooter, the rocket kit, two-way radios. But the way Dad had looked at him cut to the bone, that tired disappointment that crinkled his brow.
You have to stop this,he’d said.You’re old enough to know now, it’s just me and Mom. There’s no Santa, no elves, and you know we’re not rich. You’re upsetting your mother with these fancy lists.
Tad’s stomach hurt. Dad hadn’t meant to be cruel, but, damn it, he had been. Tad couldn’t wound West like that, couldn’t cut short his childhood. He’d promised himself he’d protect his son’s dreams—and he had until now, no matter what. West would never know what he’d gone through to get that action figure last year—sold out everywhere but eBay, and that bidding war! It had broken his wallet, but this…this was different. He flat-out couldn’t swing it, and that was a fact.
“Dad? How long?”
“I’m not sure,” said Tad. “Why don’t you find some stamps while I look it up?”
West whooped and ran off. Tad reached for his phone and pulled up Wally’s number. He could still make this right, despite Sarah’s meddling. It’d be a tight squeeze, cramming in all that work, but it’d be worth it to save his—
“Hello? Wally here.”
