A Mum for Christmas. Doreen Roberts

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ probing into her private life.

      Down on the fifth floor, the children were already lined up, waiting impatiently for Mrs. Claus to arrive. A small cheer went up as Sherrie took her seat and beckoned to the first little girl in line.

      The child’s mother held on to the small hand, and seemed determined to do all the talking. It took several moments of diplomatic persuasion before Sherrie could talk to the child herself.

      Watching from a discreet distance, Matt felt a small stab of satisfaction. The Mrs. Claus idea seemed to be working out quite well, in spite of the diminutive size of the woman inside the padding. In fact, it amazed him to see her hauling all those kids up onto her lap. He’d expected her to come crying to him at the end of her first day to say she couldn’t handle the job.

      He felt a little more comfortable now that she was dressed as Mrs. Claus again. It seemed to put a respectable distance between them. After all, who would have the urge to date Santa’s wife? Highly inappropriate, to say the least.

      After studying the application form he’d had his newest employee fill out, Matt had learned little more about Sherrie Latimer. She was twenty-seven, single and a college graduate. She’d listed her present address as the same as her brother’s, which, now that he came to think about it, was a bit odd, since she’d told Matt that she was merely spending the holidays with Tom Latimer.

      Remembering the misty-eyed expression he’d noticed when he’d mentioned her holiday plans, Matt wondered if she’d had some kind of trouble. He quickly reminded himself that it was none of his business.

      As long as Sherrie Latimer did a good job for him, her private life was her own concern. The position was only temporary anyway. Once the Christmas season was over, he would probably never set eyes on Sherrie Latimer again.

      To his dismay, the thought gave him a definite twinge of regret. He turned his back on Mrs. Claus and headed toward the crowded toy department. He wasn’t about to let himself get distracted by a ditzy, pint-size angel of mercy who let her heart rule her head.

      Any other woman with an atom of sense would have told her brother to find himself another Santa. But obviously she wasn’t like other women. She’d given up her vacation and taken on a mammoth task so that her brother could go chasing all over Mexico on his own errand of mercy, as she’d put it.

      He would have admired that, if he hadn’t been convinced that women like Sherrie Latimer were a danger to self-respecting, confirmed single fathers, who should know better than to spend their mornings wondering if a certain woman tasted as good as she looked.

      

      Seated on her red velvet throne, Sherrie was having her own troubles. One little girl, desperate to go to the bathroom, was determined not to lose her place in line. Unfortunately the wait proved too long, and Sherrie’s lap was decidedly damp after the child had scrambled down.

      The next small boy demanded that Santa bring him a space gun for Christmas.

      “I’ll be sure to tell Santa what you would like just as soon as I get back to the North Pole,” Sherrie said, reaching for a candy cane.

      “I don’t want to wait till Christmas,” the boy announced, scowling at her, “I want it now.”

      Sherrie tried to curb her flash of irritation. “Well, I’m afraid you can’t have it now. Santa doesn’t deliver the toys until Christmas Eve. But you can have a candy cane now.”

      “Don’t want a candy cane.” The boy snatched it from her hand and threw it on the floor. “I want a space gun and I want it now.”

      “Then I guess you’re going to be disappointed,” Sherrie said, easing the child off her lap.

      The boy stared at her for a second, then opened his mouth and let out a shrill scream. Sherrie looked around in vain for the child’s mother, but apparently the woman had taken advantage of the respite from her rebellious child and dashed off to shop.

      Sherrie’s efforts to calm the child were fruitless. Still yelling, the boy rushed over to the reindeer and, using both fists, began pounding one of them on the head.

      “Stop that right now,” Sherrie warned, “or Santa won’t bring you anything on Christmas Eve.”

      “Don’t want Santa,” the boy yelled, aiming a kick at the reindeer’s legs. “Santa’s stupid.”

      It was the final straw. Leaping from her chair, she grabbed the squirming child by the arm and hauled him off the platform in front of the waiting customers. Unfortunately his mother arrived on the scene just then, demanding to know why Mrs. Claus was beating up her child.

      “He was beating up the reindeer,” Sherrie hotly protested. “I was simply removing him from the area.”

      “Well, you don’t remove my child from anywhere,” the mother yelled, her voice rising above her son’s screams. “That’s my job.” She was a big woman, and looked as if she could flatten an elephant with one blow.

      Sherrie opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again as a deep voice inquired, “What’s going on here?”

      Sherrie’s heart sank as she met the disapproval in Matthew Blanchard’s ice blue eyes. She began to explain, but the customer forestalled her.

      “I am never,” she said, pronouncing the word in a voice of doom, “ever setting foot in this store again.” She looked around at the line of interested spectators. “If I were you,” she added meaningfully, “I’d get out of this store before they all start beating up on your kids.”

      “Madam—” Matt began, but she cut him off.

      Grabbing her son by the hand, she said loudly, “Come on, Henry. We’ll find a store where kids are welcome.” She glared at Sherrie as she passed. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she snarled. “Posing as Mrs. Claus and then picking on little kids. You should be reported.”

      Sherrie managed to hold her tongue as the woman led the screaming child away. She flicked a quick glance at Matt, who was addressing the crowd in a calm, quiet tone of reassurance.

      “I apologize for this small misunderstanding,” he announced. “To make up for the unpleasantness, I’ll see that every child in the store gets a free balloon and a candy cane.”

      He signaled to one of the floorwalkers, a pleasant young man dressed in a red vest and bow tie. “Follow this gentleman,” Matt announced, “and he’ll hand out the gifts. Meanwhile, Mrs. Claus will take a short break. She’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

      Sherrie felt a quiver in the region of her stomach. She followed Matt as he threaded his way through the crowd, and rehearsed her defense. He said nothing as led her into his office, but seated himself at his desk and waited for her to stand in front of him.

      She felt a spark of resentment when she saw the reprimand in his expression. He was beginning to make her feel like a second-grader hauled up in front of the principal.

      “Perhaps, Miss Latimer,” he said, his voice heavy with exasperation, “you would be kind enough to explain why you felt it necessary to manhandle one of my valued customers?”

      Sherrie lifted her chin. “That valued customer was about to demolish Donna. СКАЧАТЬ