A Fairytale Christmas

A Fairytale Christmas by Susan Wiggs Page A

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Authors: Susan Wiggs
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uncomfortable and a
lot
out of place in the rec room of the center. Jack pushed up from the table and crossed the room to her.
    “Hi,” he said.
    Silence. She stared at him. His nerves rattled like sleigh bells. Had she seen through him at last? Did she know the truth about Friday night?
    “Hello.” She seemed far less self-assured than she did at the paper. “Uh, I brought you something.” She handedhim a big box. “It’s from a friend of yours. Harry Fodgother.”
    Jack sucked in his breath. Had Harry fessed up? No way. If he had, she wouldn’t be speaking to him.
    “The Santa suit.” Jack took the box and set it down. “Thanks.”
    “He—Harry said you needed it tonight.”
    “He did?” Jack cracked a smile. The crafty little guy. Must be looking for a way to throw Madeleine at him. That damned photo. It was like magic. It convinced even the world’s biggest skeptics that they were two people in love.
    “I guess he got mixed up. I don’t need it until Christmas Eve. But thanks for bringing it over.”
    “You’re welcome. So you’re going to play Santa?”
    “I talked Derek into it. He’ll be great.”
    “Uh-huh.” Her gaze darted around the room. “So this is the Santiago Youth Center.”
    “Yep. Want to take a look around?”
    She hesitated, and that moment of hesitation seared Jack with anger. “I realize it’s a lot neater and cleaner to stay in your office and write the occasional check rather than actually work with these kids,” he muttered in her ear. “But for their sakes, act as if you
care
.”
    “You’re a bastard, Jack Riley,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
    And then, miraculously, she was all smiles as she greeted Sister Doyle and the kids. At first she was a little stiff with them, but she insisted on having Marco teach her to shoot pool and before long was laughing and failing miserably to sink a single ball. Her skill at chess was undisputed, though, and she finished off André, their best player, in record time.
    Amazing. The woman was amazing. The kids werenuts for her. Jack watched her as she spoke in an animated way across the chessboard. The fuzzy white sweater she wore, decked with a single strand of pearls, made her look as soft and sweet as an angel. He couldn’t figure her out. Her personae ranged from Marilyn Monroe to Joan Crawford to Doris Day. He expected her to start singing
“Que sera sera”
any minute now.
    After a while, she excused herself and went to sit with Maria. Jack pretended not to listen in, but he craned his neck to hear their conversation. What could Madeleine find to talk about with a girl from the barrio?
    “I guess
you’re
getting ready for a big event,” Madeleine said.
    Maria gestured at the book in her lap. “Guess so. There’s so much to do. I don’t know how I’ll ever do it all. You got kids?”
    “No. But I want babies one day.” Madeleine laughed at herself. “I need to work on getting a date first. I’m not too swift in that department.”
    Maria smoothed the afghan over her stomach. “I’m
way
too swift. At least, I was.
Madre de Dios
.” Her voice shook.
    Madeleine took her hand. “Honey, there’s not a mother in the world who doesn’t have those thoughts, believe me. I won’t kid you—this is going to be the hardest challenge of your life. But if you hang in there and work at it and love your child with all your heart, you’ll make it.”
    “That’s what Sister Doyle keeps telling me.”
    “Sister Doyle is right. Are you—” Madeleine broke off, clearly groping for words. “Are you by yourself?”
    “Yeah.” Maria sniffed. “I really love José, and I thought he loved me and the baby, but he’s gone now. Jack said he’d look for him, but I’m not holding mybreath.” She flipped through the pages of her book. “So it’s just me and my giant stomach. I’ve been staying here, but that’ll change day after Christmas.”
    Madeleine nodded. “I heard about that.”
    Jack felt a bitter surge

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