Her grandmother smiled and patted her hand. “Well, you’ve been a very good girl, so I’m sure whatever it is, Santa will do his best to get it for you.”

She got violently carsick on the way home, and the hated green and white dress had to be thrown away.

On Christmas morning, when her father woke her up and escorted her downstairs to the Christmas tree, Ivy found an American Girl doll with a trunk full of clothes. In between unwrapping gifts, Ivy kept peering toward the front door, hoping and praying that between Mall Santa and Baby Jesus, who was cradled in her grandmother’s china manger scene, her one wish would be granted.

Finally, at dinnertime, she’d figured it out. Nana’s table was set with the good damask cloth and real napkins and the plates with the tiny blue flowers and gold edging that only came out for the holidays. There were candles in the silver candlesticks. But only three plates were set at the table.

“When is Mama coming home?”

Her father exchanged a troubled glance with Nana.

“As soon as she’s better,” Nana said.

It was the last time Ivy had trusted Santa Claus.

Chapter 3

She called Ezra Wheeler first thing in the morning. “There’s no heat,” she announced. “My inspection report said the house had central heating.”

“Good morning to you too,” he said. “The furnace works just fine. But remember, the house has been closed up for months and months.”

“I couldn’t even find a thermostat,” she groused. She was standing in the kitchen, in an admittedly foul mood because she hadn’t packed her coffeemaker.

“It’s at the end of the hallway.”

“Oh.” Her voice was meek. She hadn’t been able to get the Santa note out of her mind. “Thanks. You don’t happen to have the seller’s phone number, do you? I have a couple of questions for him.”

“As a matter of fact, James is leaving town this morning, but he asked if it would be okay if he stopped by this morning to pick up a family photo album,” Ezra said.

“That’d be fine.”

“Also, I can have a truck there tomorrow, to pick up the furniture you want donated.”

“Great. Thanks. And thanks for the wine and the cookies.”

James Heywood retrieved the photo album from the bookshelf in the back bedroom, and then he showed Ivy where the thermostat was located.

“My in-laws were pretty thrifty people,” he explained. “They didn’t have the central heat installed here until the eighties.”

Ivy was grateful for the stream of warm air now flowing through the floor vents.

“Did Ezra happen to mention the Santa suit I found?” she asked.

“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten all about that. Feel free to donate it with the rest of the old clothes and stuff.”

“You don’t want it? I assumed it was a family heirloom.”

“I guess I’m not very sentimental. The suit belonged to my father-in-law. Big Bob, that’s what everyone in town called him, and Betty Rae, they played Santa and Mrs. Claus all over this part of the North Carolina mountains, at Atkins Department Store, before they closed, and then the VFW and the Elks Lodge, and at the children’s home.”