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Dear Santa(43)

Author:Debbie Macomber

Santa returned with two mugs of steaming cocoa and set them down on the table. Once he was seated, his gaze settled firmly on her. His look was gentle, understanding, sympathetic. “Now tell me what’s got you all twisted up inside. Decisions don’t need to be difficult, you realize, once you weigh the pros and cons.”

If it were only that easy. “What makes you think I have a decision to make?” she asked, tilting her head to one side as she studied him. This man seemed to know far more about her than he should.

“I’m Santa,” he said, as if that was all the explanation necessary.

Lindy wasn’t that easily bamboozled. She had to assume he’d overheard her and Peggy’s conversation at the pizza parlor.

“You have a choice to make. Do you like living in the big city?”

“I like Seattle.”

He nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I enjoy the cultural advantages available there. Celeste and I…” She’d been about to mention the Broadway shows they’d been able to attend, the sporting events, the shopping, and the fine restaurants. They splurged once a month on a fun outing. Lindy badly missed those girlfriend times. Going out with guys was a completely different experience than with her best friend.

“Ah, Celeste,” he said, and shook his head. “She proved to be a real disappointment, didn’t she?”

She nodded, preferring not to get into the past. Santa had definitely been listening in on her conversation with Peggy. Although she didn’t remember mentioning her former roommate.

“What about Media Blast? Is that what’s holding you back?”

She had to wonder how Santa figured out she worked for Media Blast. Seeing how much of her conversation he’d listened in on—she was tempted to ask if he enjoyed his pizza with or without anchovies.

“Lindy?” Santa asked.

She realized he was waiting for her reply.

“Not entirely. They pay well, and I enjoy my work.” This was getting a bit eerie, that Santa would know all this. She returned his stare, which he held with gentle patience. Lindy was the first one to blink.

“Starting your own business would require a giant leap of faith. It would be a huge risk. The thing is, Lindy, you’re fully capable of making it a success if you do decide to go for it.”

His confidence nearly drew tears to her eyes.

“But,” he said, “isn’t there something more—rather, someone—who makes this decision even more difficult? You want to give this new romance a chance and hesitate at the risk you’ll be taking. Am I right?”

Lindy lowered her gaze to her drink, preferring not to answer.

“Billy Kincade isn’t the same rascal he was at ten. He’s reformed his ways and learned some hard life lessons along the way. I have to say I’m rather proud of that young man.”

Oh yes, Billy. He’d been with her in Leavenworth when she’d first seen Santa. She’d already decided not to mention Peggy’s idea to Billy, knowing he’d already asked her to stay. He wanted her to leave Seattle and move back to Wenatchee. The temptation was to give in, leave all that she’d worked toward in Seattle behind, and basically start over from the ground up.

“It’s more than this young man, though, right?”

Good grief, Santa must have been sitting right next to her to have this much information.

“There’s a large project I submitted a proposal for that has yet to be accepted,” she said. A huge investment of her time, effort, and skill had gone into this bid. She’d waited a long time for the chance to work on a project like this. Now it felt as if she were standing on a cliff: afraid to look down, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, not knowing which way to turn.

“It appears you have a lot to think about, Lindy.”

“I do,” she agreed, seeing that he was finished with his drink and looked ready to go. “I appreciate you listening.”

“I was happy to be a sounding board.”

“You’re very good, Santa.”

He shrugged off her praise and scooted back his chair.

Lindy stood, too, leaving her mug half-full of cocoa. They left the coffee shop together and walked toward the street-level parking complex.

It was already late; the sky was darkening. By four-thirty it would be pitch-dark. Lindy had always loved winters in the Pacific Northwest for the opportunity to view the northern lights. She didn’t get a chance to see them in Seattle because the city lights made it impossible.

“Thanks again, Santa,” she said, as he approached his truck. “Have a good night.”

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