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“Here you go,” Pierce says, pointing toward the door just past the kitchen.
“Thank you!” She runs in and slams the door, making it echo throughout the place.
“Sorry.” I flinch.
“No worries,” Pierce says. “I have a niece who looks to be about her age. How old is she? Five? Six?”
“Five, with the personality of someone twice her age,” I joke.
Pierce laughs, but then his face turns serious. He steps toward me, so close I’m forced to look up at him because he’s got quite a few inches on my five-foot-seven self.
“I hope you’re not here to try to give me back my money,” he says. “Because if that’s the case…”
“I’m not,” I tell him, swallowing thickly. “As much as I’d like to, right now, I don’t have it,” I admit truthfully. “But”—I pull out the Tupperware from my purse—“Jordan had the idea to bring you a piece of the cake we made to thank you.” I hand him the container, and he smiles at me like I just gave him a million dollars.
“All done!” Jordan says, joining us. When she spots the cake, her face lights up. “I made that cake for my daddy’s birthday,” she tells Pierce. “Do you like cake?”
“I do,” he says.
“It’s vanilla with chocolate frosting. Daddy’s favorite.”
“Looks delicious,” Pierce tells her.
“You should eat it now,” Jordan says, eyeing the cake. “And if there’s a lot, I could have a piece too. And Mommy and Cinderella.”
“Jordan,” I chide while Pierce laughs.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Pierce says. “Let’s take it in the kitchen… but Cinder can’t have any. She’s a puppy and can only eat puppy food.”
The guys who were in the kitchen are still there, and Pierce introduces us. “This is Garrett and Wade. They work the same shift as me,” Pierce explains. “This is Kelsie and her daughter, Jordan. They brought me cake.”
He splits the large piece of cake into three smaller portions, and Jordan climbs onto the stool to eat hers.
“It’s nice to meet you,” the guys say in unison.
“Are you new in town?” Wade asks. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”
“We moved here a couple of months ago,” I explain. “We’re renting Mrs. Jenson’s house over on Holly Lane.” Every street name is Christmas or winter related. It’s adorable.
“Oh, right,” Wade says. “I remember her saying she was moving to a home.”
Wade and Garrett both stand.
“It was lovely to meet you,” Wade says with a smile.
“I’m sure we’ll see you around,” Garrett adds before they both excuse themselves.
The three of us eat our slices of cake in silence for a few minutes before Jordan speaks up. “Have you seen Santa?” she asks, taking a bite of her cake.
“Not recently,” Pierce says, taking his last bite and throwing the plate and fork away. “Are you looking for him?”
“Well, yeah. I thought maybe he lived here ’cause this is a Christmas place, but I can’t find him anywhere. Not even his elves or reindeer.” Jordan sighs in disappointment, and I notice Pierce stifles his laugh, keeping a serious face.
“He’s around,” he says. “Probably busy because it’s getting closer to Christmas.”
“He’s gonna leave to go to the North Pole soon,” Jordan complains. “How do I see him before he leaves?”
She finishes her slice and jumps off the stool. I take her plate and mine and throw them into the trash.
“Well, that’s simple,” Pierce tells her. “He’ll be at the Christmas festival.”
Jordan’s eyes widen, and her gaze swings over to me. “Mommy, can we please go to the festival?” she begs.
“We’ll see,” I tell her, knowing not to say yes in case I can’t make it happen.
“The cake was delicious,” Pierce says to Jordan as he walks us back to the front of the fire station. “Please tell your daddy I said thank you.”
“Oh,” she says, glancing at him. “My daddy’s in heaven now. Mommy and I eat it ’cause it was his favorite, and it’s mine too.”
Pierce’s eyes soften in understanding. “Well, that makes you sharing it with me even more special. Thank you.”
“Wow!” Jordan gasps, running toward the beautiful tree in the corner. “This is so pretty.” She runs her fingers along the bristles. “Why does your tree have decorations already? Mommy said trees don’t get decorated till after everyone eats the turkey.”
Pierce grins. “This is a special tree,” he explains, walking over and plucking a piece of paper off the tree and kneeling in front of her. “It’s filled with angels. People take a ticket like this one off the tree to help someone in need.”
Jordan eyes the ticket. “Anyone can be on the angel tree?”
“Sure,” he says.
“Mommy!” Jordan looks my way. “Can we put a ticket on the angel tree? Then someone can buy us a tree ’cause you said we don’t have the money to buy one.”
Oh, God. Warmth creeps up my neck and face—and it’s not the same warmth I felt earlier—as I wish for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
