André drew his knees up to his chest and stared at the flashlight beam. “My mom didn’t go away for work,” he said in a very quiet voice.

“Then where did she go?” Charlie felt clueless, but he could tell André was building up to something big. Like last summer at Camp Kioga, in the cabin when Leroy Stumpf admitted he was scared of the dark.

Only this was bigger. Charlie could tell.

“She’s in jail.”

Charlie frowned. “Nuh-uh. You’re lying.”

“I wish I was.”

“Why is she in jail?”

“She got in trouble. My dad was doing something bad, and they both got caught. The judge sent her to a place called Bedford Hills Women’s Correctional Facility.” André repeated the big words as though he’d memorized them. “She has to stay there until February. It’s a jail. Prison. I looked it up online at the library. Angelica doesn’t know. No one is supposed to know. But I snooped. I heard her crying at night and I heard her talking on the phone, and I figured it out.”

“Oh man. That’s bad, André. That’s really bad.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Sure you do. And I know it, too.”

“I just wish my mom will be okay on Christmas. That’s all I wish.” André’s voice broke then, and he screwed up his face as though he was trying not to cry, and then he just let go and he cried hard, shaking all over.

“It’s okay, buddy,” said Charlie, patting him on the shoulder the way his dad sometimes did when Charlie was sad. “Maybe it sucks now, but it’s going to be okay.” The news made his stomach hurt. He wondered if he should send Santa another letter—Forget the dog. I want the same thing André wants.

“Do you think Santa will grant my wish?” André asked, dragging a mittened hand across his face.

“If he doesn’t, then there really is no Santa.”

“But he’s really real, right?”

“He’s real. So all we gotta do now is not screw up, and we’ll get our Christmas wishes.”

“Okay, let’s make a pact. We have to be good. We have to not screw up.”

“So, are we still going to stay up all night on Christmas Eve and wait for Santa?”

“Sure.”

“What if he doesn’t come?”

Charlie punched a window into the wall of snow. “Then we’ll know.”

Chapter Sixteen

chapter sixteen

On Christmas Eve, Logan was in his office in town, brooding over the resort accounts. The office was adjacent to the local radio station, and through the wall he could hear the relentlessly cheerful voice of the DJ, Eddie Haven, talking about the town festivities, which would culminate in the Christmas morning pageant at Heart of the Mountains Church.