Promises in Paradise

“Don’t just stand there,” he encouraged. “You’re supposed to kiss each other.”

Diane’s gaze flew to Hale’s, her eyes wide with surprise. And fear. She was about to protest but never got the chance.

Hale suddenly seemed to swoop forward and she couldn’t move. The thick wooly beard was ridiculous, but soft and kind of ticklish. Through it she felt the firm, warm pressure of his mouth.

Chapter Three

Hale’s lips did not meet hers.

He kissed, instead, a corner of her mouth. Tantalizingly close, but safe and chaste.

And it was quick.

For Diane, it was that…and, oddly, seemed to take a very long time.

When Hale withdrew, standing back against the open door, Ron began to clap his big hands in loud and sustained approval. The sound seemed to echo somewhere in the back of her brain. Her heart was beating too fast, and even Diane recognized it was because of unexpected heightened emotions. Why was she just standing there, staring at…Santa?

Finally, the sounds of her surroundings, the noise and conversations and closing of doors and crying of babies rushed full force at her, until it all seemed too loud.

“…so I can make a formal intro between you two.”

“What?” Diane asked absently.

“I said—” Ron began, only to be interrupted.

“I’ve got to get out of this suit,” Hale announced firmly. He allowed Diane to pass and closed the office door on both of them.

Diane scowled at Ron. He was beaming at her.

“So now you’ve met Hale. That was quite an introduction.”

“Yes, it was,” Diane said with as much grace as she could muster. “But I have to go.”

“I know, I know,” Ron conceded with regret.

He spread his arms that seemed to have the wingspan of a bald eagle. Diane, smiling in amusement, accepted his warm hug and thanks.

“I’d be happy to come by when I’m free and do a brief checkup on anyone you think needs it, Ron.”

He placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder as Diane headed to the exit.

“Hell, they all need it, Diane. You know these folks don’t have any health care. Anything you can do is always appreciated.” He patted her shoulder and waved her off.

Outside, Diane inhaled deeply several times, grateful for the sudden rush of cold air on her face. She headed toward her car, feeling bewildered by the experience of seeing him at the shelter playing the part of one of humankind’s most beloved icons. Right up there with Mickey Mouse. And Jesus.

The contradiction only confused her more.

Diane put her things in the trunk of her car and sat for a while as the engine warmed her. She stared blindly out the window. It was almost nine in the evening, four days before Christmas. There weren’t that many people about, but then it was cold and she was not in a highly commercial part of town. It was a depressed area that could sorely use gentrification…if anyone, resident or government official, could agree on the need for it.

The shelter was little more than a storefront, with the upper floors roughly converted into dorm-like rooms and shared facilities. It felt enormously sad to Diane that families, children, had to call this place home, let alone spend the holidays here.

People like Ron Jeffrey should be canonized, she considered. But with that also came the image of Hale in the Santa suit. Was he to be blessed, as well?

She was pondering this when the object of her thoughts exited the shelter, dressed down in dark casual slacks, heavy hiking boots, a barn jacket and baseball cap. A dark green-and-red plaid scarf was his only concession to the holidays. Leather gloves stuck out of a pocket of his coat.

She had never seen Hale like this, with the young black professional look, decidedly upwardly mobile. Nice clothes of good quality and well coordinated. Stylish. And handsome.

No, that wasn’t true. Diane remembered her surprise at seeing how well Hale filled out a formal tux at the affair in Baltimore. She frowned as her gaze followed his brisk pace. His car keys ready, he pointed and clicked and the lights of a black SUV blinked on.

Hale was climbing into his car when Diane, spontaneous, bold, determined and without a clue of what she was actually going to do, turned off her engine, got out of her car and hurried across the parking lot toward his.

“Hale! Hale, wait a minute.”

He stopped in midaction, turning his head to watch as she approached. Diane slowed her steps. She suddenly realized that Hale’s expression, what she could see of it in the shadows and under the eerie florescent public lights, showed him tight-lipped. His eyes were hooded. He didn’t say a word but watched her warily.

“I want to say something,” Diane announced.

He put his hand up to stop her. She did.

“Look, I’m sorry. Ron put us on the spot. I shouldn’t have touched you. So, if you want…”

Diane shook her head. “No, that’s not what this is about. Ron meant well. It’s the holidays and all that. You know.”

“Yes. I know.”

He still sounded suspicious.

“I…” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “I just want to say…you were so great with the kids.”

Hale stared silently at her.

“I mean, it was great. And…and dressing up like Santa. You’re kind of thin for the part…”

“Is that a compliment?” he asked dryly.

She chuckled nervously, rubbing her hands together, trying to figure out how to end the conversation that she’d begun.

“I guess it didn’t sound like one,” Diane agreed.

Hale wasn’t doing or saying anything to make this easy for her. He wasn’t being conciliatory or even friendly. Diane sighed. She couldn’t blame him. Two weeks ago when the tables were turned she’d given him no quarter either. In fact, she knew her response to seeing him after so many years had been way over the top.

“If you’re finished, I have to go,” he said, once again turning to his car.

“How’s Jenna?”

He turned sharply and pinned her with a cold stare. “Why do you want to know?”

Diane was shocked by his tone, as if she’d asked something highly personal. She shrugged, becoming annoyed that he continued to treat her like a pariah.