Iced by Carol Higgins Clark Page B

down. Your perfect nuclear richer-than-God family, thought Regan.
    Bessie unloaded her body into a chair next to Regan. She sighed, folded her hands, and started twirling her thumbs. Regan got the impression that she was not the type who could sit still for very long without getting mad at somebody. And she seemed nervous.
    Yvonne stroked her daughter’s hair. “Kids, this nice lady wants to talk to us about Santa.”
    “But Christmas is over,” Julie said practically.
    “I know,” Yvonne said, “but she wants you to tell her about the Santa who came by here the other night.”
    “The one who stole the picture?” Josh inquired.
    Yvonne glanced quickly at Lester. “We didn’t say that, honey.”
    “But you were mad in the restaurant yesterday and said that—”
    “Mommy was just reacting too quickly. We don’t know who took the painting.”
    Julie looked thoughtful. “Do you think one of your friends took it?”
    Regan tried not to smile.
    “No, dear,” Yvonne replied with a patience that did not seem heartfelt. “Now let’s answer some important questions.”
    The two children turned their gazes to Regan. Their stares were the stares of little children who expected to be entertained, or at the very least not bored to death.
    I’d better make this quick, Regan thought. She had the feeling that their undivided attention was a commodity that could disappear faster than the painting. She barely had time to form a question when Julie opened her mouth to speak.
    “Last year Santa was nicer,” she blurted.
    “What do you mean?” Regan asked in that gentle voice she thought you were supposed to use with young children.
    “Well,” the little girl said and cocked her head, “he was funnier and played with us more. This year he just gave us our presents in a hurry.”
    Josh extracted his thumb from his mouth. “The presents weren’t too good either. Santa was cheap this year.”
    Julie started giggling. “Santa was cheap,” she almost chanted. “Cheap, cheap, cheap.” Within seconds Josh and Julie looked like miniature versions of their parents, laughing hysterically at the thought of Santa’s stinginess. Had they read the stress-management book too? Regan wondered.
    “Who wanted another stupid dump truck?” Josh asked.
    “And who wanted another stupid doll that burps?” Julie added.
    It was clear that Big Daddy Lester took that as a personal insult; he started to interject, but Yvonne stopped him. “Maybe next year Santa will have something you like better.”
    “Hope so,” Josh said and resumed sucking his thumb. He leaned up against Lester’s chest and crossed his legs.
    “He’s back in the North Pole now,” Julie informed Regan.
    “Yes, I know,” Regan said. She knew she couldn’t talk about Eben playing Santa in front of the kids. After all, she thought, you have to preserve their innocence. Better to have them think that Santa’s cheap, not a thief. “So he just gave you your presents and left?”
    “Uh-huh,” Julie said. “We had lots of kids to play with, so we didn’t care.”
    “But last year Santa spent more time with you?” Regan asked. “Was that fun?”
    “He sang some songs with us. It was all right,” Julie replied.
    Josh looked up at his father. “Next year, can we have Barney instead?”
    Poor Santa. He’s going to be wiped out by a purple dinosaur, Regan thought.
    “We’ll see,” Lester said.
    Yvonne looked at Regan and shrugged. It was clear that Regan wasn’t going to get too much more out of the kids. “We’d better get going, Regan. Why don’t you talk to Bessie for a few minutes? She’s the one who made the arrangements with Santa Claus.”
    Throw me to the lions, why don’t you? Regan thought. “That would be great, if Bessie doesn’t mind . . .” She didn’t have to look at Bessie; she could feel her reaction.
    “I’ve got a lot to do before I leave for Vail.”
    Yvonne gave her a look and Bessie knew that she was pushing her