Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(20)

Clara Marsden caught Miss Chapman’s eye. “I’ll help,” she whispered. “We’ll manage fine.”

The mayor cleared his throat. “With all the changes, I move that we meet again on Monday, the ninth, for a progress check. Do I hear a second?”

“Seconded,” his wife echoed. With a vote, the motion carried.

“So, are we done?” Walt Cullimore asked. “Can we go now?”

“You’re out of order, Walt,” the mayor said. “Actually, we have one more matter to discuss. An urgent problem has come up.”

The words, urgent problem, caught everybody’s attention. A few hands reached for a third doughnut.

“As you know,” the mayor said, “Archie McNab has dressed up and played Santa at the party for years. His wife even made him his own Santa costume.”

A murmur of recognition went around the table. Archie was a giant of a man, as tall as Big Sam, and hefty enough to play Santa without any additional padding around the middle. He had a booming Santa laugh and seemed to love playing the part. To the people of Branding Iron, especially the kids, Archie was Santa.

“Unfortunately,” the mayor continued, “Archie is facing hip replacement surgery this month. He’ll be in no condition to play Santa at the Christmas party—or the Christmas ball, as I guess we’re calling it now.”

A groan rose from the group around the table. “We’ve got to have a Santa!” It was Doris Cullimore who spoke. “My grandkids have been wanting to meet Santa for weeks. And don’t ask me to take them to the mall in Cottonwood Springs. Last year the lines were halfway out the doors, and their fake Santa reeked of booze and cigarettes. Archie’s the real deal, or close to it.”

“It was Archie’s wife who called me,” the mayor said. “She and Archie are willing to lend us the Santa suit she made, along with the boots and beard. But she doesn’t want anybody making alterations to it—no shortening the sleeves or the pants.”

“Archie’s a huge guy,” Walt said. “Where are we going to find a man who’ll fit into his suit?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, like steel pins drawn to a magnet, all eyes—even Maggie’s and Grace Chapman’s—swiveled toward Sam. It took mere seconds for him to get their silent message.

“Oh, no!” He waved the flat of his hand for emphasis. “Not me! My job’s law and order. There’s no way I’m showing up in a silly red suit and a beard. Besides, Santa’s supposed to be jolly. I don’t have a jolly bone in my body!”

“But Sam,” Clara Marsden said in her gentle voice, “you’re the only man in town who can wear that suit—with a couple of pillows, of course. It’s you or no one at all. Think how disappointed the little ones will be if there’s no Santa.”

Sam groaned. “Think how they’ll feel if I sneer at them instead of going ‘Ho, ho, ho.’ I don’t have a single blasted ho-ho in me. Can’t we just rent a different sized suit?”

“Not at this late date,” Alice Wilkins said. “I checked the costume agencies. Santa suits have to be reserved months ahead. And don’t even think about buying one. Even if we could find one for sale, the price would blow our budget for the whole holiday season.”

Sam shook his head, feeling trapped. “I didn’t sign on for this,” he said. “Playing Santa isn’t part of my job description.”

“We can’t force you,” the mayor said. “But there’s an election coming up next fall. Nobody’s going to vote for a sheriff who refused to play Santa for their kids.”

Sam swore silently. The mayor had just taken the issue to a whole new level. This wasn’t just persuasion. This was extortion. And the mayor’s threat had put him in a tough spot. If he caved in now and agreed to play Santa, it would appear that he was doing it for political reasons. If he stuck to his principles and refused to be threatened, he would come off as a curmudgeon who didn’t care about the kids—and he’d probably lose next year’s election to boot.

With his pride at stake, neither choice was good.

Sam could feel the pressure. People were watching him, waiting for his answer. He could ask for more time, but that would only prolong the tension. He needed to decide now.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder. Maggie had left her chair to stand beside him.

“Please, Daddy,” she said in a voice that only he could hear. “You’ll make a great Santa. I know you will. And the kids will be so happy. I know Christmas makes you sad, but do it for them.”

It was the answer he needed. Sam’s arm went around her. “All right, I’ll do it,” he said. “But only for this year and only for the kids.”

An audible sigh of relief went around the table. “The suit’s at the cleaner’s,” Alice said. “We’ll have it for you in plenty of time.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “And I can furnish my own pillows. So, with that settled, I move that we adjourn.”

“Seconded,” Maggie added.

“Moved, seconded . . . all in favor,” the mayor said. The decision to adjourn was unanimous.

*

Grace fell into step with Sam and Maggie as they walked out to the door. She’d planned on confronting him about the car he’d rented. But somehow that problem didn’t seem so important now.