Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost Page 5

  This was one of those moments when her ability to stretch the truth came in handy. She had an answer that wasn’t entirely false. That kind came out so much easier than outright lies. “I thought I’d check out the town,” and see where Tannon worked, introduce myself, and propose. Frost pulled a tube of red lipstick from her red purse and a compact that she used to apply the color with broad strokes. She lowered the mirror to see Ginger and Robyn staring at her like a misfit toy. “What?”

  Robyn wrapped her fluffy blue robe around her as she stood from the table. “You don’t explore—ever.” She lowered her chin, pinning Frost with a look.

  Frost sucked in through her teeth, wary of lying any more than she absolutely had to. “I’m taking this Christmas catastrophe seriously and am ready to do my part.”

  “Bravo.” Stella clapped. “I’m coming with you.” Unlike Robyn, who was still in her flannel candy cane pajamas and red robe, Stella was dressed in black-and-gray-striped leggings, a black leather skirt, and a low-cut red blouse. She’d finished off the edgy outfit with a silver chain that hung to her navel and matching earrings. Her makeup was three shades of night sky, and her skin as flawless as Rockefeller’s tree.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Frost jingle-bell-hopped her way to the door that led to the garage and snagged a set of keys off the hook by the light switch for one of the three rental cars waiting in the garage. When Stella was over transportation, she planned for every alternative. “You arranged for enough cars that we could go on our own.”

  Stella frowned. “I didn’t think you’d actually drive. You’re not … experienced.”

  Frost flicked her hand in a move that was characteristically Stella’s, belying a sense of nonchalance she didn’t feel. Inside, she was terrified of getting behind the wheel. She hadn’t driven since she was sixteen, when Mom had said it was a rite of passage for a young lady and she wasn’t going to allow her to miss out on the experience. She’d gone on to give her a history lesson on Anne Rainsford French, the first American woman to receive a driver’s license in the year 1900. Of course, women had been driving horse-drawn carriages and wagons for ages—as Kringle women had been driving sleighs.

  She’d made it through the test with white knuckles and a heartfelt prayer. “I have a license and the best GPS system on the planet.” Unlike Ginger, who had a globe in her head, Frost had to rely on her cell phone. Thanks to Lux, who had linked their phones into several military bases from multiple countries, she could be anywhere in the world and know exactly how to get home—or find a hot chocolate bar. However, for this little venture, she’d memorized the directions so no one could trace her search engines and know what she’d been up to. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better get dressed if I’m going to keep up with you two. No time for dishes this morning.” Robyn swirled the last bite of her chocolate waffles through the whipped cream and popped it in her mouth. She set her plate and fork in the sink and made it three steps away before she flipped back around, rinsed the plate, and placed it in the dishwasher.

  Frost compulsively read letters. Robyn was the world’s finest hostess, homemaker, chocolatier, candy maker, and head chef. A dirty kitchen was a sin, and she never fell to temptation.

  Stella snickered.

  Robyn pointed at her. “For that, I’m buying a Lego set and only putting it halfway together.”

  Frost grinned so hard her nose wrinkled. Stella’s OCD was finishing. Santa didn’t believe in giving gifts that came with “some assembly required.”

  “Don’t start with me, sis,” Stella warned, her brown eyes glinting with challenge. “I’ll bake cookies.”

  Robyn’s hands flew in front of her as if she could already see the piles of sugar and flour and the ingredients spread from here to the front door.

  Stella lifted one eyebrow. “Sugar cookies.”

  “No!” Robyn wilted, conceding defeat. “Fine, no Legos. But you’d better wipe the crumbs off the counter before I get back.”

  “How did you even see those? I …”

  Frost took advantage of their quarreling to slip out the door. Once in the car, she buckled her seat belt, tugging on it twice. She read all the gauges. Fuel. Oil level. Odometer. Battery. The buttons were next. AM/FM. Volume. Hot/Cold. She lowered the visor and skimmed the airbag warning. Having read the necessary words, she started the car.

  Her heart swerved worse than Dasher and Dancer after eating too many carrots, but the car went straight on the left side of the road. She’d double-checked online last night after they arrived to make sure it was the left side that she was supposed to drive on. One couldn’t be too careful when taking their life in their hands and speeding along the pavement. She couldn’t very well read while she drove, so it was imperative she do her research. Flying ten feet above the tree line was so much safer than these steel contraptions. A car had no instinct, whereas a reindeer would swerve around an obstacle to save his antlers.

  The closer she got to the Bison Paper Mill, the harder her knees quivered. Blue street signs pointed her in the direction of the main offices, though it wouldn’t have been too hard to find them on her own, considering the giant pipes rising through the air like reindeer hazards. The front of the office building was covered in mirrored glass, the company logo on the upper right-hand side of the building. A group of people gathered by the front doors. They had signs, but she couldn’t make out the words from this far away.

  She sat in a parking spot, her hands still on the steering wheel, as she gazed up at the square structure. Inside those walls was the man she wanted to marry. All she had to do was walk in there and introduce herself.

  All the obstacles were out of the way, but she couldn’t move. How many people had the opportunity to really make their lifelong dream come true? Even as a little girl playing dress-up, her pretend date was Tannon. She’d imagine them walking into the living room together. He’d pick up a bucket of popcorn off the side table, and they’d sit on the couch and enjoy watching a superhero kick butt.

  She gasped for air. “Okay, Frost. This is it. This is your moment.” She shook out her fingers. With a mighty heave, she pushed the suddenly two-ton car door open and swiveled in her seat to plant both feet on the blacktop. A faded blue line told her she’d made it inside the visitor’s parking spot. “Okay. Okay. Okay.” It seemed she couldn’t stop talking to herself.

  She pushed out of the seat and turned to face the building and her future. There were so many questions still unanswered. Of course they’d live at the North Pole, but how often would they visit his parents? When would she meet them? Was he a good kisser?

  The last question almost had her back in the car. On-screen kisses were magical things set to swelling music or hard rock ballads. She wanted one of those—preferably the magical kind.

  Stopping to sling her Kringle bag over her shoulder, she shut the car door and pressed the button on the key fob to lock it just like her mom had taught her. They never locked up the sleigh, but then, who would steal from Santa?

  With her first step towards Tannon, her lungs squeezed together. Why couldn’t her mom have taught her how to break the ice with a man she knew better than any other and yet hadn’t met in person instead of worrying about silly things like driving lessons? Now that would have been helpful.

  The parking lot seemed to lengthen before her like a runway, the doors getting farther away. She pressed harder, determined not to chicken out. Suddenly, she was right in the midst of the people marching and their signs. She read them all with a glance.

  Don’t take our homes.

  We have families.

  My children need Christmas.

  You can’t do this to Elderberry.

  And there were a half dozen more with similar sayings.

  What in the name of Whoville was going on here? She moved to ask the nearest man, who towered over her and had a beard down to his belly, but he turned on her, screaming in her face. “Old Man Cebu isn’t going to ruin
my Christmas!” Her Santa empathy sparked to life. The man’s fear overwhelmed her, sapping her energy.

  Frost stumbled backward, running into a woman in a long coat with a red-knit beanie perched precariously on her stringy brown hair. “We won’t take this sitting down. We have rights!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. Her anger surged like a roaring river through Frost’s veins, heating her and causing her hands to shake. Shoving Frost off her side, the woman continued on her circular march.

  Before she could recover from the last two emotions, Frost tumbled between two men in plaid coats and gray mittens, their faces red with resentment as low as the temperatures that compelled them to bundle up.

  Unused to carrying so many negative emotions inside at once, Frost scrambled for an exit, her footing unsure.

  The front door to the building fell open at the same moment she put her hand on the bar to push it open. Her heal caught on the metal threshold and she fell into yet another person. The impeccable blue fabric of his suit coat was soft against her cheek, and his body underneath was strong. Soft annoyance coated with bemusement came through her Santa senses. The scents of spruce trees, spice, and paper mingled together, making her stomach flutter like two turtledoves in a pear tree.

  Wait—that wasn’t right.

  Firm hands took her by the shoulders and peeled her off the suit. She lifted her gaze from the beautiful jacket only to fall into the clear spring-green-colored eyes of her rescuer. “Tannon,” she whispered. How she knew it was him was beyond her—her heart just knew. Or perhaps it was her nose. His letters smelled just like him. She should know; she’d pressed them to her face often, wishing she were close enough to him to take in his scent fully. She closed her eyes and did just that, reveling in the fact that they were finally within the same three feet.

  He stared at her for a moment, his eyes taking in her shock of white hair, her pointed chin, and her purple eyes. There was a flash of attraction that was there and gone so fast Frost didn’t have time to react. His hands dropped to his side and he cleared his throat. “You’ll address me as Mr. Cebu and I shall call you Ms. Cratchit—understood?”

  She rubbed her forehead, still trying to get a grasp on her sensors. “There are people out there screaming at you.”

  He frowned. “I know. They won’t be there for long.”

  “But how—?”

  “I don’t have time to stand here and gossip. Follow me.” He did a three-step turn and led the way past the receptionist’s desk and to an elevator. He pressed the up button.

  She rubbed her forehead, confused at his brisk manner as she joined him in the elevator. The doors shut, and there was a black hole where holiday music should have played over the speakers. Frost frowned at the ceiling. The disgruntled group had done a number on her, and stepping off the roller coaster was difficult. “You’re Tannon Cebu, are you not?”

  “I am.” His curt nod and stiff posture as he pressed a button did nothing to invite her back into his arms. This wasn’t the welcome she’d anticipated.

  Oh. Oh! He didn’t know who she was. He thought she was this Ms. Cratchit person. How silly of her. She’d remedy that posthaste. She squared her shoulders. “Tannon—” she began.

  “Mr. Cebu,” he interrupted her.

  He was so funny when he was serious. He had this whole important businessman thing going for him, which was quite attractive. He was attractive. She hadn’t seen many bald men, but she’d heard the phrase bald is beautiful. It was true. He had a wonderfully shaped head, not at all bumpy or oblong. Just smooth and well shaped. It helped that his skin had a natural olive tone to it, dark and healthy-looking without trying. His shoulders were wide—first toned from the eighteen months after his surgery when he’d had to use crutches, although he had to spend some time at the gym to look so good now. He had the upper body strength to climb ice, and she couldn’t wait to take him to her favorite spot.

  His eyes were a clear spring green, and a Greek nose adorned his features like the perfect ornament on the most beautiful Christmas tree on the lot. “Stop interrupting.” She smacked him playfully on the arm. “I need to tell you something.”

  The elevator doors slid open before she got a chance to stick out her hand and make proper introductions. A gangly teen was waiting for them on the other side of the doors, and he pushed his way into the small space and then dogged Tannon’s steps as he exited. She took a moment to admire Tannon’s gait. If she hadn’t known he had a prosthetic leg, she would have thought he had sprained his knee with his slight limp.

  “Mr. Cebu, the police are on their way. You were right, sir.” He took long steps to keep up. “This is private property and the protesters are trespassing.”

  The doors started to close and Frost darted out to keep from being hauled back to ground level. She didn’t want to go back there while the people were screaming. She shuddered at the thought.

  “Good, Tim. See that they are gone within the hour.”

  Tim blanched. “I’ll try.”

  Tannon turned on him. “Don’t try, Tim. Do.”

  Tim leaned back on his heels, nodding as if he had a snow globe for a head and was shaking the snowflakes. Tannon left him standing there, nodding. Frost glanced from Tim to Tannon’s back and then hurried after him.

  Before she was close enough to talk, he stopped at a crowded desk. “Is there something of interest here?”

  Three people jolted in unison. “No. We were just talking about the—” The woman dropped her eyes to her penny loafers. “It’s not important.”

  Frost sensed her embarrassment laced with dismay. She longed to reach out a steady hand to the woman and ease her troubled mind.

  Clearly, this was not a good day for Frost to profess her love.

  “Back to work, everyone.” Tannon set the example, striding off. Frost was once again forced to make haste to catch up with him. The path was made clear by office workers doing their best to stay out of his way. In his wake, she felt disapproval, judgment, and distress. Was this really her Tannon? The man who penned sweet words of courtship and offered his heart on embossed parchment?

  “This is your desk, Ms. Cratchit.” He waved his hand to a desk with metal legs and a false wooden top.

  Frost stared at it in horror. She would no sooner work at such a desk than ask an elf to remove his pointed shoes. Not only was the desk an atrocity, there wasn’t a holiday decoration in sight. It may only be November first, but that was no excuse. At the least, there should be fall leaves and pumpkins with wooden signs full of wisdom such as Count Your Blessings and Be Thankful. Oh no, no, no, this wouldn’t do at all.

  “If you’ll start by sorting mail, that would be helpful. Once that is done, you can go through my inbox and clean out the unnecessaries.”

  Sort … mail? The tips of Frost’s fingers tingled, and she was torn between sorting and setting Tannon straight on why she was there and who she was. The mail was all over the desk, begging to be read. Just begging. Her Kringle compulsion did a conga line right over her better sense. There was one last hope. If Tannon pulled her away, she may be able to resist. “I really think we need to have a conversation.”

  “It’ll have to wait.” Tannon did a quick three-point turn and threw her hope out in the cold November air. He took his wonderful clean scent with him, leaving no doubt in her mind that the conversation was over—for now.

  Frost’s work space was an alcove off the larger office area. There wasn’t a wall or a window to separate her from the other employees, yet there may as well have been a concrete wall for all the attention they paid to her. The main floor was filled with work spaces divided by half walls that didn’t offer privacy but discouraged communication. They should all be taken down so workers could chat. The Letters elves would suffocate in this environment. She did her best to tune out the feelings of stress rolling like sound waves through the air.

  She glanced up to find an arch that was perfect for boughs and red bows. And paper snowflakes, the space c
ould use dozens of snowflakes. Her hands found the letter on the top of the haphazard pile without her mind having to leave the mental decorating.

  Tannon’s office was as far away from his employees as it could get. No wonder he inspired fear and stress—no one in the office knew him. Like Scrooge, he sat in his counting house all day and barked orders.

  Bark was a harsh word. He hadn’t barked at her, though his tone with the rest of the office was rather harsh. She slipped the letter out of the envelope and brought her eyes to the top of the page. A half second later, she had the advertisement for a new dentist office and envelope in the trash and was already opening the next. Hooking the rolling chair with her toe, she dragged it under her and sat down to the task.

  She learned a little about Elderberry from reading. They had a bakery, a furniture store that was gearing up for a Black Friday event, and several restaurants that offered 10% off your meal. None of these things had to do with a paper mill, but she stacked them, ready to create a file … just as soon as she found the right place. There was one set of filing drawers stacked high back and to the right of her desk. She perused the folders but didn’t find one that would match these letters. She tapped her chin. There had to be a place for them, so she’d just save them for later and accomplish what else she could.

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder, which she’d taken care to style just right—not that Tannon had noticed—and went back to work. In no time she had things sorted and moved on to email. She’d make short order of this task and then approach him again. Surely he’d be in a better mood if she made his to-do list shorter.

  They needed to get this misunderstanding worked out so they could hurry up and get married and get home. She had things to do back home. Agis, the tallest elf at the North Pole, would already be en route to the North Pole with the day’s letters. Dad was overseeing incoming, but Frost missed her desk. She missed the elves. And she missed hearing Christmas wishes from children. Being with adults all day was boring.