Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost Read online

  Tannon drew his eyebrows together. “Don’t evening gowns last for years?”

  Frost pretended to choke. “You did not just say that.”

  “You only wear them once, maybe twice.”

  “And then they’ve served their purpose,” she said matter-of-factly as she shimmied into her pink snowsuit. He liked watching her body move. She was graceful at the same time she was efficient, and she was so small even he, with his bum leg, could carry her over a threshold.

  He blinked to clear the mental vision of Frost in a wedding dress, dotted with diamonds that sparkled as brightly as her eyes, and him in a tux. “I shudder to think of the closet space you need.” He slid into his coat and picked up a hat and gloves.

  She laughed. “Don’t ask.”

  “I won’t.” He wouldn’t, but he wanted to know anyway.

  As they stepped out of the garage and into the winter wonderland, the postman pulled up to the mailbox. Tannon’s heart did a little flip. Miss Kringle’s letter may have found him. He didn’t know how she did it, but the letter always arrived where he was that day—the office or home. Once, when they’d gone to Disneyland, it appeared on his pillow at the hotel. That made him think that his mom was the one penning the letters, but after some thought, it became obvious that she wasn’t the author.

  He quickened his step.

  “Are we in a hurry?” Frost’s legs, though long for her petite body, hurried to keep up with him.

  “Sorry. I’m expecting a letter.”

  Frost’s hand went to her purse and she looked anywhere but at him. “Oh? Anything important?”

  Tannon slowed his pace. He’d never had to explain this to anyone outside of his parents. They’d been happy to believe it was a child he’d met while undergoing treatments and left it at that. “My … pen pal.”

  Frost continued to study the opposite side of the driveway. “That’s nice.” Her voice had an airy quality to it, like their warm breath in the cold air, floating away and not sticking.

  Tannon felt the need to expound—to explain to this woman he’d kissed, held, cherished for a moment. “She’s my best friend.”

  “She?” Now Frost was looking at him. Looking at him with lots of interest in her expression.

  He smiled. “She. We’ve written since we were kids. I’ve told her all my secrets.”

  “Oh!” Frost blinked rapidly, her bare hands clasped behind her. “So are you going to tell her we kissed?”

  His chin dropped to his chest, struck dumb by her question. After ignoring what had happened between them all afternoon, she popped that sweetheart out like a demented Pez dispenser. “Uhhh …”

  She tapped her foot and waited.

  His mind went into a flurry of answers, none of which seemed good enough. “Maybe not all my secrets.” He fidgeted. “The thing is, I’ve always wanted her to believe the best of me.”

  Frost’s eyes narrowed and she resembled her name. “You aren’t exactly believing the best in her if you’re hiding things.” She rubbed her lips together. “Do you really think she’s that shallow?”

  “No! Of course not.” He glanced up at the big house with the manicured gardens sleeping under a blanket of fresh snow. He’d picked up some bad habits from his parents. As much as he wanted to think he was different from them, would never hold Brody to the same standards or care what another person thought more than he cared about his son, when it came to Miss Kringle, he’d followed in their footsteps—and he hated himself for it. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I didn’t mean it as an insult—I wanted to protect her from … me.” And all the hurt he could cause her—would cause her—if she knew what he’d done, that he’d lied throughout their friendship. Was that why his parents behaved the way they did? Because they were trying to protect him from the ugly parts of humanity?

  Frost shook her head, making her white hair bounce. “You weren’t thinking of her; you were protecting yourself. Scared of being alone and lonely.” She sighed heavily. “Which means you care about her a great deal—or at least care about not losing her.” She landed in the cab and rotated both legs in, her knees locked together like a winter princess on parade in an open carriage rather than a woman landing in a cab.

  He put himself in the open door. “Will you be okay getting your Silverado out of the woods?”

  She wrinkled her brow as if didn’t know what he was talking about, and then a light went on. “I’ll be perfectly fine. I called someone and I bet it’s already home.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t remember her making a call, but he hadn’t seen her until this morning when she was dressed and done baking. She always managed to get more done than he thought possible in a small amount of time. “What are you doing Monday?” He moved so he blocked the door and the wind. Although Frost didn’t seem to mind the cold weather. She was always warm and warmed those around her. How could his mom not feel that?

  “I haven’t decided. It’s a whole two days away.” She smiled up at him, completely unconcerned about not having a job, or life in general. He’d never met someone who truly lived by the advice to take life one day at a time like she managed to. Then again, he’d met few people who would build a snow fort just for the fun of it.

  “Will you come back to work for me?” The words were out before he could stop them. He hurried to add, “The office has never been more orderly, and I could really use the help until Mrs. Garron comes back,” lest he seem too needy.

  She cocked her head. “On one condition.”

  “Name it.” Who cared about being needy? He had to know that this wasn’t the last time he’d see her.

  “You reinstate the company Christmas party.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s a drain on company resources. It’s a waste of time. And Mrs. Garron usually plans the party, and she’s out.”

  She ticked off her rebuttals on her fingers as she spoke. “It won’t cost you a dime. We’ll schedule it on the Friday night before Christmas. And I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Not a dime of company money?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m curious to see how you’ll pull this off.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” She patted his cheek and his stomach did a double backflip.

  He barely resisted the urge to grab her hand and pull her to him for a kiss that would turn this winter wonderland into a lake. “Fine. You can have your party.”

  She tipped her head back and laughed from her belly. The sight struck Tannon right in the heart—she was stunning. Stunningly happy. He found himself wanting to do whatever he could to put that look, that elation, on her face again. But what if she asked something of him he wasn’t willing to give? He could no longer stay at the mill—it was sucking his soul away—and she was adamant that he keep it open.

  He’d made his decision, and nothing was going to stop him. Not even a Christmas-loving personal assistant with a laugh that filled his heart.

  Chapter 20

  Frost waved at Tannon from the inside of the cab as it pulled away from the curb. He looked so good in his dark blue coat, his head covered by a knit hat. The hat changed his appearance in the same way a cowboy hat could change a man’s look from wholesome to mysterious. It brought out his eyes—which were already his most prominent feature.

  Her hands trembled as she dialed Robyn and Stella. “That was close,” she said as soon as the line connected. “I almost told him who I was.”

  “What?” shrieked Stella. “Have you lost your marbles?” Frost jerked at the harsh response, but Stella wasn’t done. “We’re up to our belt buckles in mail around here and, according to Lux, tipping over ten percent, and you almost blow it by telling him you’re his long-lost Santa’s daughter love. I thought the whole point was for him to get faith in Christmas, not in you.”

  “Hey, I said almost. And what do you mean, you’re up to your belt buckles in mail? Dad’s supposed to be taking care of it.”

  Robyn answered, “H
e is, but he’s behind in scanning.”

  Frost moaned and pressed her hand to her suddenly aching stomach. “It’s not that hard. He can scan one while he reads one.”

  “He’s a man—one task at a time.” Stella snapped her gum.

  “What’s Ginger doing?” Her Santa sister should be able to at least organize well. She had to pack the sleigh on Christmas Eve, and that wasn’t an easy task.

  “She’s doing the first check of the list,” said Robyn.

  “Hey, lady, where do you want me to drop you off?” asked the driver. He had a thick white mustache and a shadow across his chin, like he hadn’t shaved this morning. Actually, when Frost looked at him in the rearview mirror, he resembled one of the old man Muppets who shouted rude comments from the balcony. The shorter one with the bald head. Wait, weren’t they both bald?

  “Lady?”

  She jerked her attention out the window. He’d taken her out of the iron gates and higher-end homes and was cruising Main Street. The shops were dark and locked up tight because of the holiday. The next day was Black Friday, and they’d surely open hoping to add a banner day to the books. The street looked so bare. Not a Christmas decoration in sight.

  “Stop!” she practically shouted at the driver. He slammed on the brakes and Frost threw her hand on the seat in front of her to keep from slamming into it. “You can let me out here.” She rifled through her purse and came up with enough money for the ride and a tip. “Keep the change.”

  He shook his head, muttering something that an old man Muppet would have thought hilarious.

  “Frost?” asked Robyn.

  “I’m here.” She turned one way and then another. There was so much to be done. “Can you guys come down here? I could use some help.”

  “Sorry,” quipped Stella. “We’re just getting going and I need to be here—I feel like everything could unwrap any second. This tipping thing has me off-balance.”

  “I’m the same way in the kitchen,” Robyn said apologetically. “What did you need help with anyway?”

  “Decorating.” Frost tucked the phone between her cheek and her shoulder and framed the street with her hands, looking for the perfect spot for a Christmas tree.

  “In that case …” Robyn’s voice sounded farther away, like she’d pulled the phone away from her ear and was still talking.

  “L, M, N, what did you need, Robyn?” asked Ginger.

  “It’s not what I need,” replied Robyn. “It’s what Frost needs.”

  “Frost?”

  “Hi,” Frost chirped. She wasn’t slow to catch on to what Robyn had in mind. When Ginger was wooing Joseph, she’d decorated the small town of Clearview, Alaska, by letting her full Santa genes out of the box. Clearview was quite a bit smaller than Elderberry, but if anyone had the ability to make it over, it was Ginger. “Feel like getting serious about the season with me?”

  “I’m listening …”

  “I want to decorate Elderberry’s Main Street, but it’s big and—”

  Bells jingled through the phone line. “I’m grabbing Joseph and Layla, and we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  A burst of jolly shot through Frost. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Not for long.” Ginger hung up.

  “Are you guys still there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ten-four,” quipped Stella.

  “Is the mail room that bad?” Frost’s insides crumpled like a cheap piece of paper in a fist. She’d never wanted to be home so badly.

  “I’m not gonna lie—it’s bad.” Stella snapped her gum again.

  Robyn hummed in disapproval of Stella’s comment. “It’s nothing you can’t fix when you get here. I believe in you.”

  To a Kringle, I believe in you were powerful words, and they helped smooth out the tight spots inside of Frost.

  Robyn wasn’t done. “I’m sending a care package with Ginger. Be sure to eat while you’re working; it will help you stay up longer without needing to sleep.”

  “Thanks.” The Kringle sisters had all inherited their father’s ability to stay up all night working. They had their limits, but their energy level went well beyond the average person. Frost was counting on that ability to get her through the long night ahead. “I haven’t had anything since breakfast.” She wrinkled her nose, thinking of Mary’s obvious dismissal from her home. Then she scrunched it even tighter, knowing she’d have to bring even Tannon’s mom Christmas cheer if she was ever going to set foot at the North Pole again.

  “Okay,” Stella announced, “I have fifteen minutes and so do you. Spill everything about Tannon and how you almost ruined your one chance to make it home for Christmas.”

  “You know, Stella, one of these days you’re going to have to face the Christmas music and let someone see the real you.” Robyn sounded like such a big sister sometimes, but it was good to hear her talk like she’d finally come to accept the inevitable. She’d put up so many walls over the last two years that Frost wondered if she’d be the last Single Kringle and they’d have to drag her to the wedding chapel.

  “Mind your own stocking,” Stella snapped. “I need a romance fix. Come on, Frost, spill your glitter.”

  Frost brushed the snow off a cement planter and planted her butt on the makeshift seat, where she proceeded to give a full update on everything from stumbling upon Tannon and his previously unknown son to the moment mommy dearest shoved her out the door. Her sisters listened with rapt attention, adding squeals or groans where appropriate.

  “So my plan is to work on the town for a couple of days until I can infiltrate the company and spread Christmas cheer there.”

  “Are you going to kiss him again?” prodded Stella.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Please, please, please don’t help it.”

  “Stella!”

  “What? Stories are so much better when there’s kissing involved.”

  Frost giggled. Life was so much better when kissing was involved. Kissing Tannon was everything she’d ever imagined it would be and so much more. He was particularly skilled in giving her goose bumps with the brush of his lips against her jaw. Fudge frosting, she could barely breathe just thinking about it. “I’ll give you that one.”

  “Me too,” added Robyn.

  The distant sound of sleigh bells jingled. “I gotta go; Ginger’s here.”

  “Good luck,” Stella and Robyn chorused before hanging up.

  A bright red sleigh halted nearby, pulled by Starling. At three years old, she was too young to consider for the Christmas Eve ride and was still in her training harness. It would be a good ten years before she was mature enough and had the stamina to be one of the top eight—if she ever got there. Not all reindeer were cut out for the long haul, though they all seemed to think they were. All except for Max—the lump of coal who’d left Frost stranded in the woods. He’d just as soon stay behind and eat the oat supply while the others did all the hard work. When she got back to the palace, she’d make sure he ate shredded wheat for a week.

  Layla threw herself off the sleigh and into Frost’s waiting arms. Frost spun in a circle. “I’ve missed you, sugarplum.” Frost set her down and took in Layla’s look. She held out her arms and spun in a circle for inspection. “I love the red leggings, and that plaid tunic is the most adorable thing I’ve seen since I got here.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a matching headband. “Just a few finishing touches.” With the headband secured, she retrieved clip-on earrings and a set of jangling bracelets. Having a niece was so much better than having dolls—and Frost loved her dolls growing up!

  Layla’s eyes grew brighter with each addition. She fingered the bangles hanging from her earlobes. “I love them.”

  “I knew you would.”

  Ginger alighted from the sleigh and reached for a hug. “I miss you. Thanksgiving dinner just wasn’t the same.”

  “Me too.” Frost hugged her tightly, breathing in her cookie scent that was as familiar as snowflakes. She
released her sister and hugged Joseph, even though he stood as stiff as one of the tree stumps he was so fond of carving. He was getting better about all the affections the Kringle clan heaped upon him and managed to pat Frost’s back. She fought the tears that threatened to form. If she missed Joseph, who teased her relentlessly about her clothing choices like any good brother would, then she was more homesick than even she knew.

  Ginger rubbed her hands together. “Where can I start?”

  Frost checked her grin. Knowing full well that Ginger’s need to string lights and display giant candy canes was practically eating her up inside, she took a few steps and then walked back the other directions. “I’m not sure about a theme.” She hummed to herself as she continued to torture her sister.

  “Frost,” Ginger warned.

  “How about …” Frost lifted her arms and spread them wide as if painting the words in front of her. “‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’?”

  Ginger gave her the don’t-be-silly look. “Never mind, I’m on it.” She ran towards the sleigh, where her Kringle purse sat on the seat.

  Joseph went to follow her, but Frost grabbed him by the back of his flannel shirt. She’d tried, when he first moved to the palace, to get him into something else, anything else, and failed, finally embracing his Brawny Man style as if it were a real thing. “We need a Nativity scene. I’m thinking the empty lot over there.” Frost pointed between the barber shop and the greeting card store. “Think you can come up with a life-sized representation in twelve hours or less? I want something made from wood—since this is a mill-town. And it needs to be good.” Christ was the reason for the season—everything about Santa and his gift-giving practice pointed to the Savior of mankind and celebrated His birth. Sometimes people forgot—they got wrapped up in the presents and the trappings—and she didn’t want that to happen. A life-sized crèche would be a humble reminder amidst all the glamour she had planned for Main Street.