Miracle on 34th Floor
Miracle on the 34th Floor
Sweet Christmas Romance (Love for the Holidays)
Sophia Summers
Contents
Read all books by Sophia Summers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 1-2 Invited Home for Christmas
Read all books by Sophia Summers
Read all books by Sophia Summers
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Miracle on the 34th Floor
Invited Home for Christmas
1
Decker Kringle shrugged into the new suit coat, holding still while the tailor made marks. Gimbels always saved him one of the newest holiday sports coats. He’d been coming since he purchased his first suit at the age of nineteen. His internship back then at Synergy Systems had required a full suit and tie. Smiling at the memory, he slipped off the jacket. “Thank you, Stephen.”
“You’re very welcome, sir. I’m happy we can fit you again this year. How are your parents?”
“They’re well—spending Christmas in warmer weather.”
“Will you be joining them?”
He rotated his shoulders. “Not this year. I’m afraid I’ll be sharing Christmas cookies with the office.”
Stephen nodded. “Very good, sir. May I wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas?”
“Thank you. I’ll have my assistant pick up the jacket tomorrow.”
As Decker made his way out of the men’s department, he paused, a nostalgic desire to go check out Santa on the top floor filling him. He had a few minutes. So he turned around and took the escalators up twice to the very top floor.
The place was decorated from top to bottom. It reminded him of the movie Elf. Paper chains, fake snow, toys, and trees had transformed the kids’ department into a magic wonderland crowned with the throne and platform for Santa and his elves.
But as Decker approached the far end of the floor, mothers were walking away with concerned expressions, clutching their sad children to them.
Decker reached out a hand to a passing parent. “Excuse me, may I ask what happened?”
The mom turned to him with tired eyes. “They said they’re gonna cancel the Santa exhibit.” Her gaze flickered to her son. “Turns out, Santa is concerned for one of the elves. He became ill and needed some extra care before the big day. It’s a shame. We’ve been coming here for years.”
“Why doesn’t Santa want to talk to us, Mom?” Her little boy’s wide eyes did something to Decker.
“Of course, he wants to talk to you. This is all a big misunderstanding, I’m sure of it.”
The boy’s eyes lit for a moment. “Do you think so?”
“I know so.”
His mother shook her head and tugged her son after. “Come on. We’ll call tomorrow.”
Decker picked up his pace. Santa’s chair was empty. A few elves were tidying up, but no Santa was in sight. He approached an older woman wearing pointy ears and a green costume. “Excuse me. Could you tell me when the Santa will be returning?”
“That is a good question.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s up and quit.” She looked around and, seeing no children, continued. “And the manager is trying to cancel the whole program, said it’s too hard to find a Santa this late in the year.”
“But don’t you have children with appointments expecting to see Santa?”
She eyed him like he’d grown his own set of pointy ears. “Well, yeah, they’re just gonna have to go somewhere else, I guess. My question is what am I gonna do for my holiday pay? I was counting on this gig for some extra money.”
“Maybe we can work something out.” Gimbels was crazy to cancel the Santa village. He would bet half their holiday sales came from families shopping while their children sat on Santa’s lap. And besides, it was a tradition. Gimbels without Santa was just plain anti-New York. And he had something to say about it.
He followed a man with an armful of boxes into the back room. When another employee noticed him, she approached. “Um, excuse me, sir. You’re in the back room.”
He nodded. “I see that. I wondered if I might talk to the manager, please?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the employee eyed Decker’s suit and then nodded. “I’ll get her for you.”
After a minute, a flushed woman with hair falling out of her bun, a pencil behind her ear, and a clipboard clutched in her hands approached. “Yes, what can I do to help you?”
“Hello.” He held out his hand. “I’m Decker Kringle.”
She adjusted her board and shook his hand. “Mary Welling.” She stood on the balls of her feet as if, at any minute, she would need to run to put out another fire.
“I’ll make this quick. I noticed that Santa has left his post.”
She puffed out a long breath. “Yes.”
“Will he be returning?”
“He has quit.”
“And?”
“And we don’t have a replacement.”
“Surely someone is looking for a temp job.”
“I’m sure they are, Mr.…”
“Kringle.”
“Kringle…really?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure there are people looking for a job, but we don’t have time to get someone into the position in time for Christmas. It is kinder to just make an announcement that the Santa visits will end early this year.”
He shook his head. “But what about the families who come for pictures? The traditions. You will lose sales, surely. I bet you will report a loss this quarter if you don’t find a replacement.”
She eyed him with annoyance. “While I can’t account for your sudden interest in our success as a store, I thank you for your thoughts and ask that you submit a feedback form. You can find them at every entrance—”
“I’ll do it.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’ll do it. I can put on the suit right now, and then we can do today’s Santa pictures.”
“Wh—but, human resources—”
“No, no need. I don’t want to be
paid. Let’s just get this going.” He hardly heard himself speak, but he knew he had to do it. “And you start looking for a new Santa. I’m giving you a one-day grace period here.”
A hurried and frenzied-looking elf woman ran up to them. “The line is forming again. We need to make a general announcement.”
Decker eyed the manager, his shoulders raised. Then he relaxed into a smile. “I can do this. I love kids.”
Another elf ran in. “Mary…”
“Okay, get him the suit. And someone submit his name for a background check. Start the paperwork at the same time.”
Both elves exhaled in relief.
Decker followed a clerk to a storage room where a suit was tossed at him. He called over his shoulder, “Get those kids singing carols. Tell them Santa only comes if there’s Christmas cheer. And we all know the best way to raise Christmas cheer.”
The elves looked at each other. “Is he for real?”
“Who knows. Let’s go do what he says.”
Decker laughed to himself. What had come over him? He texted his assistant, postponing his meetings and calls until tomorrow. This would be fun. A part of him felt like he was in one of those cheesy Christmas movies, saving Christmas for all the children.
But when he stepped out onto the platform, instead of happily singing children, people were frowning. The line was overly long, and the elves at the front were singing a duet—an out-of-tune, poorly sung duet.
“Uh…HO! HO! HO!” That got things going a little bit. “Merry Christmas!”
A few of the younger kids pointed and laughed. But most still sported anxious, pinched expressions.
“I can’t hear you. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” a few of the kids called out.
Decker held his hand to his ear. “What was that?”
“Merry Christmas!”
“Ah, and a Merry Christmas to you, too!” He sat in his chair, and the elves brought him the first child.
She was small and looked scared. Her mother was pulling her along.
“Oh, hi, little one. You don’t have to come close if you don’t want. Would you like to talk to me from there?”
Her mother looked like she might make a fuss. She already had her camera ready. But he held up a finger, and she nodded.
“Tell me what you want for Christmas.”
The girl twirled her ankle, poking the tip of her shoe into the floor at her feet a few times before whispering something.
“I can’t hear you, but I bet that is a super cool thing. Maybe you want a skateboard?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, I thought I heard skateboard. Do you want a Hot Wheels car?”
“No way.”
“Oh, okay, glad I didn’t bring that one. Maybe you would like a dirt bike?”
She shook her head and ran to him, leaning against his leg. “No. What I want…is a baby doll stroller. Except my mom says I can’t ask for that, so instead I’m asking for a toy kitchen: pink.” She climbed up onto his lap, and he felt like he’d won all the victories with this one child.
“Ho, ho, ho. We will do our best. Have you been a good girl this year?”
“Oh yes.”
“Excellent. Have a merry Christmas!”
He set her down. And then beckoned to the next child.
And so it went, for hours and hours, until the last child hopped off his lap and the store was ready to close.
He went to the back room, tugging off his beard. He placed a large mound of white fluff in the outstretched hands of the manager. “Mary?” he asked with hoarse voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more exhausted.”
Her smile was considerably warmer than the harried frown he’d received when they first met. “You saved us today. When I saw that crowd, I realized how right you are. We need a Santa.”
He nodded. “Any luck finding one?”
“Some great leads. Hopefully they will call me back tonight…” She hesitated, her head tilted. “Do you think you could step in tomorrow night? One more time? I think we can put people off during the day, but the evening crowd is gonna be a nightmare if we can’t get someone to start right away.”
He closed his eyes. “I can—for one more night. But then I have evening events and things I have to go to.” He was already late that evening for a party at the City Books Festival, which he helped chair every year.
“Thank you. And Mr. Kringle?”
“Hmm?”
“You make an excellent Santa.”
He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve been more pleased to hear a compliment. I’ll see you at six thirty tomorrow.”
“Very good.” She indicated his costume. “As I’m certain you don’t have your own costume, we will just continue to use this one the previous Santa so graciously left us.”
He took off the rest of the costume pieces and handed them back to Mary. Then he made his way out of the store. The crowds had only grown since his late afternoon fitting. He jostled through the shoppers and the commuters heading home from work to make his way back across the street to his office building.
Inside the doors always felt nice. It was either cooler than outside or warmer, depending on the time of year. The first-floor lobby was large and open, and security sat at the desk. Decker made his way to the elevators.
He swiped his key card and pushed the button for the thirty-fourth floor.
What a rewarding afternoon and evening. He smiled. Gimbels had just become his pro bono for the season. He always tried to fit in some kind of service in December. He donated all over the city to programs he found worthy, but he also tried to give some of his time. Which was difficult in his line of work, but he found that the act of giving felt more rewarding when he participated. And besides, sometimes he enjoyed giving back from his years of education and experience. Like today, for example. That manager had been about to make a career-altering move, one that she might have regretted for a long time. He had been happy to lend just a bit of his perspective and set an example by stepping in and performing the task that needed to be completed.
The elevator dinged as it stopped on his floor. He stepped out, not expecting to see anyone, but was almost knocked over by a woman rushing to get in.
“Oh, oh my gosh! I am so sorry,” the woman apologized as she tried to catch her breath.
The elevator filled with a delicious smell of peppermint. “No, please excuse me.” He spoke to the top of her mass of curls. He stepped out, and the doors closed after him.
The floor was empty. Most people took their work home at this time of year. He knew he would be working at home. The Spritzer account still needed some tweaks, and he had to get ready for that pitch. Maybe he’d have some time to watch a game. He thought the Knicks were playing. Or the Mavericks, which would be just as great. And he’d order some delivery. After the day he’d had, an evening at home sounded like just what he needed. Even though he was exhausted, he smiled, looking forward to what the kids might say tomorrow.
2
Joylin stood in open-mouthed horror as the doors closed, shutting her off from the man she’d been admiring for a full year, a man who had never noticed or even looked in her direction before.
No one knew how many times she’d walked by his office—whenever she looked particularly good or wore a new pair of shoes or fresh lipstick. That path in front of his office was well worn. She’d imagined all the different ways they would finally meet, all the things she could do or say, what she would be wearing, how interested he would become after seeing her just one time.
But barreling into him in the elevator had never been one of her scenarios. Perhaps he’d forget all about it. Maybe he wouldn’t even recognize her—she’d been looking at the floor, after all. She could only hope.
She breathed in through her nose and caught the last whiff of his cologne. What was he doing at the office so late? Maybe she should head back up and run into him again, only this time more gently. No one else was up there.
Her hands started to shake at the thought. She pushed a button to stop the elevator and got off on the dimly lit thirteenth floor. Then she pushed the call button.
“May I help you?” A gruff voice behind her made her jump.
The security guard frowned.
“Oh no. I just need to go back up to the thirty-fourth floor.”
“This floor is for security personnel only. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I’m trying. As soon as the elevator—”
“I’ll have to ask you to take the stairs to the next floor and wait for the elevator there.”
“What? Are you serious?”
His stern demeanor said he was as serious as could be.
“Well, okay then.” She walked in the direction he was pointing, opened the door to the stairwell, and started climbing. But the next door was locked, and the next, and the next. Were all the stairwell doors locked after hours?
She walked up another flight and tried that door. Locked. Now she wanted to go give that security guard a talking-to that would have made her mama proud. But that would mean she’d actually have to walk back out on the thirteenth floor again, and that’s where her courage fizzled.
Well, now what should she do? Go up to the thirty-fourth floor, knock on the stairwell door, and hope Mr. Kringle heard her? Look foolish again in front of him? She shook her head. “Get a hold of yourself, Joylin.”
She turned around and marched down staircase after staircase. She gave up trying doors; it just used up time, and her stomach was rumbling. She’d stayed an extra two hours tonight, wrapping up some things for accounting.
When she finally reached the main floor, she was grateful that her jacket hid a rivulet of sweat dripping down her back.