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“I don’t think we’ve met.” Santa held out a hand. “William Martin.”
“Holden Pryce.” Holden shook the guy’s hand, then stepped back. “Come on in.”
Should he have invited the guy in? For someone who was always overly cautious, Holden sure was trusting this guy. But something about him told Holden he could definitely be trusted.
“Good morning, young lady!” William said to J.J., who was staring up at him like he was a movie star.
“Are you the real Santa Claus?” she asked.
William shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m just a guy who looks a lot like him. The real Santa is at the North Pole, resting up after a very busy holiday season.”
“There sure are a lot of people in this town who think you’re the real deal,” Holden said. “Apparently, you have a habit of vanishing into thin air.”
William laughed. “Yeah, I have a stealthy walk. Been told that all my life. But mostly, I just don’t like goodbyes. I disappear on people when they aren’t looking. Ever snuck out of a party when people thought you were going to the bathroom? That’s me. I’m the sneaker-outer.”
Holden wasn’t so sure about that. He’d never seen the guy disappear, but people sure had sounded like there’d been some unexplained vanishings. Still, he wasn’t going to push it.
“Why don’t you go get dressed?” Holden asked J.J. “Mr. Martin and I have some business to discuss.”
Clearly, this non-Santa had shown up here for a reason, and whatever that reason was, it wouldn’t do J.J. any good to watch a guy who looked like Santa be anything but. Besides, she wasn’t a fan of business talk, so this would just bore her.
That was probably why she didn’t argue. She just cast one last smile in William’s direction and rushed off in the direction of her bedroom.
“Great little girl you have there,” William said. “You’ve done well by her. And I know you and Miss Ardmore will be very happy together.”
Holden would ask how the guy knew about that, but by now it was pretty much all over town. Besides, this guy had a habit of helping out new couples, from what he’d heard. William Martin was almost as much a matchmaker as the mistletoe had been.
“I have something for you.” Santa reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, folded up. As he handed it over to Holden, he saw it was a large check. “Just a little something to start your business.”
The second he unfolded it and saw the number typed on it, Holden’s eyes widened. There were six numbers in that little box. Six. With a comma right smack-dab in the middle.
“I don’t understand.” Holden opened his eyes to look at the guy, who was standing there with a big smile visible beneath that gray beard.
“Your ski resort is going to change Misty Mountain forever,” Santa said. “It’ll bring people from all over, pouring money into this town. Mark my words. I want to see it happen, so this is my donation. I won’t take no for an answer. I have a sizable sum in the bank, and I want to do some good in the time I have left. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to skedaddle.”
He said all that without taking a breath. That left Holden no way to slip a few words in—a protest of some type. But suddenly, William put a finger over his mouth as if to say, “Shh,” then turned and walked out the door. He didn’t look back as he went.
Weird. Shaking his head to himself, Holden looked down at the check. For the first time, he noticed the address at the top. William Martin was there, sure enough, but it was the address that really caught his attention. North Pole, Alaska.
The guy actuallywasfrom a town called “North Pole.”
Holden turned, planning to shower, get ready, and take J.J. out to the movies or something. They’d stop by the bank first and deposit this check into his business account. Not that he didn’t trust the guy—he just wanted it safe and sound before he could somehow manage to lose it.
But just as he reached the doorway leading out of the main room, his doorbell rang again. William Martin was back? Maybe he’d changed his mind.
Heart sinking, he headed back and looked through the peephole again. Standing on the front porch wasn’t a guy in a red coat. It was a beautiful blonde.
Pulling the door open with a big smile on his face, he held the check up to show her. His smile froze, though, when he realized something.
Aside from Faith’s car, the driveway was empty.
“Where did he go?” he asked, looking around.
Faith turned, following his gaze toward the driveway. “Who?”
“Santa. I mean William Martin. His truck should’ve been in the driveway.”
Shrugging, Faith turned back to look at him. “There was nobody around when I pulled in.”
