The Santa Society by Kristine McCord Page A

and he can’t find it now. And then he spent our grocery money on the toilet, cause he’s not a plumber.”
    “Hush, Callie.” Tammy’s head is bent low as she speaks. She glances up at me with an embarrassed smile then recognition flashes through her eyes. “Are you—Erin, right?”
    “Hi.”
    Her eyes turn watery.
    Holly looks at me now too. “Holy—“ She doesn't finish. Her eyes slide to the floor. She shifts so that most of her face is hidden behind her mother’s shoulder.
    I do my best to give Tammy a regular smile, the kind that says there is nothing out of the ordinary happening here.
    And she tries to return it, but I feel her embarrassment as if it is my own. I wish I could be someone else, someone she doesn’t know, so she won’t have to feel like she does at this moment.
    I do us both a favor and focus my attention back to Callie.
    But Callie has her eyes locked on Reason. She gazes at him with an awestruck look on her small face.
    He steps around the corner of the serving table and lowers himself to her level. Even while squatting, he’s still taller than her. He reaches behind her ear and produces a small candy cane.
    She giggles with delight when she sees it. I watch the side of his face. He grins at her as he reaches behind her other ear and pulls out a small square envelope. He whispers something in her ear, and she takes a step back, nodding her head in rapid jerks. Her face beams with excitement. She takes a tentative step forward and throws her arms around his neck.
    He closes his eyes as he hugs her back, almost like she’s not somebody else’s kid.
    I gape. The love—the peace in his face sends a shock of déjà vu through me. I hadn’t given any thought to how he might behave with children. Now I know. No wonder he’s Santa in the city parade.
    I’m still holding the forgotten plate in one hand and a spoon of eggs in the other. I kick back into gear. I spoon in the eggs and a biscuit. Reason gives her gravy and an orange juice. I’m careful not to make too much eye contact, but when I hand Tammy her plate, I touch her hand for a moment. I just want her to know I haven’t judged her. She meets my eyes and nods.
    They move on to a table, and I’m once again acutely aware of Reason’s presence next to me. This time, it’s mixed with reverent humility. He’s electricity—profoundly alive and complex.
    Across the room, Callie hands the white envelope to Tammy and gushes with a rush of excited words. “It’s a cupid card, Mommy. We can trade it for food at the bank. And they’ll give us new coats and mittens.”
    As I mentally translate what she’s said, I realize Callie and her family will have food and warm clothes for Christmas.
    I add a spoonful of eggs to the next plate. It’s everything I can do to resist my overwhelming urge to kiss Reason’s sweet face.
     

Chapter 13
     
    “THEY’RE THE WORKING POOR.”
    “The working poor,” I repeat.
    “Poverty’s bigger than many people realize. And it doesn't discriminate.” Reason steers the truck through an intersection and turns onto a side street, one I’ve never noticed before.
    We ease along an alleyway, passing behind a row of old homes that serve as commercial buildings. This section of Christmasville is called Father’s Square. The houses used to be where the city’s founding fathers lived. One home has been turned into the city museum, but professional firms and local government offices occupy the remainder of them.
    I’m sure the sewer department must be nearby. Maybe I should ask Reason to stop by there before we leave. If I show up in person, maybe someone will get to the bottom of the missing records.
    Reason parks behind a brick three story, next to the only one other car in the lot: a silver Mercedes. The thick layer of snow covering it makes it apparent it hasn’t been moved since at least yesterday.
    Reason continues, “There’s a lot of that right now, especially this Christmas—people who