Dear Santa(14)

“Apologize?” he asked, “Whatever for?” He didn’t take the plate.

Not wanting anyone to overhear, she leaned forward and whispered, “That letter to Santa.”

Billy’s face broke into a huge smile. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Well, actually, no.”

“Come on back to the office. I could use a break. And bring those cookies with you.”

He started across the restaurant, leaving her to follow, which she did. His office was compact, and she could see that he’d been sitting at his computer. He brought in another chair and briefly left her.

When he returned, he carried two coffee mugs and they sat across his desk from each other. Glancing appreciatively at the gingerbread cookies, Billy peeled back the cellophane and reached for one. “This wasn’t necessary, but it’s appreciated. It just so happens gingerbread cookies are my favorite. It’s been years since I had homemade ones.”

    “Grandma’s recipe never fails.” She ate one herself.

“You can rat me out to Santa every year if it means you’ll bake me cookies,” he teased.

His humor relaxed her. “You’ve done a wonderful job with the Wine Press,” she said, looking to keep the conversation flowing. “It’s clearly a success.”

“It might be even more of one, if I could get this website up and running.” He glared at his computer, as if to blame the machine for his troubles.

“You’re doing it yourself?”

“Yeah. You won’t believe what those web designers want to charge me.”

Lindy hid a smile. “How’s designing it yourself working for you?”

“It’s not. I thought if I read a couple books, I should be able to set up a useable web page on WordPress. I mean, how hard could it be? Well, I found out it isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

“Would you mind if I took a look at what you’ve done thus far?”

He hesitated. “You want to what?”

“Billy, I design websites for a living. Ever heard of Media Blast?”

    He nodded. “They are the top Seattle Web marketing company. I didn’t even ask for a quote, because I knew they’d be way out of my price range.”

“I work for them. I’d be happy to look at what you have and advise you,” she offered, grateful for the opportunity to do more than bake him cookies.

“Before you do, I need to know your fees.”

“You’re in luck,” she said brightly, eager to get started. “The price is more than reasonable. I’ll do it for free.”

He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Fine, how about a gift certificate for dinner and wine for my parents for Christmas?”

“Done.” He quickly vacated his chair and set her up in front of his computer.

It didn’t take long for Lindy to assess the work he’d completed and she could see it would require only minor graphic changes but quite a bit of back-end work. He left her and returned later, pacing as he glanced over her shoulder. It didn’t take him long to recognize Lindy knew what she was doing. She showed him a few easy tricks and went back to work.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, when he returned later.

Lindy could hear the chatter from the lunch crowd that filled the restaurant. “I’m good, thanks.” She didn’t move her eyes off the monitor as she worked. It was sometime later that she noticed Billy had delivered a sandwich. Involved as she was, she ate half, hardly aware of what she tasted.

    Billy moved in and out of his office several times. He asked how she was doing, and left when she waved him away, promising she was doing fine and didn’t need anything. Lindy was in her element.

Her mother phoned to ask if Lindy planned to be home for dinner. Seeing that it was after five, she was shocked to realize how long she’d been working. “Save me a plate. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be,” she said, after explaining where she was and what she was doing. Other than potty breaks and a couple of times when she stood to stretch, she was intent on her work.

At seven, Billy insisted she stop. “I’m almost finished,” she objected.

“Tomorrow is soon enough.”

Although she didn’t want to quit, he was right. Her eyes burned from staring at the monitor so long, and her back had started to ache.

“Come with me,” Billy said, and scooted the roller chair away from the desk before she could complain.

“Where are we going?” She stood, bent over, and touched her toes to loosen the muscles in her back.

“You ask too many questions.” Billy reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. Without answering her, he led her through the kitchen to the far side of the restaurant and into a private dining room. The small round table was draped in a white linen cloth with a ring of holly around a burning candle in the center. A bottle of wine, two glasses, and dinnerware were artfully arranged.

    Billy pulled out the chair, silently inviting Lindy to take a seat. Soon after he was seated, two salad plates were delivered by the same server who had taken care of Lindy and her newfound friends on Saturday night.

“What is this?” she asked, leaning close enough to the table for her stomach to press against the edge.