A lump grows in my throat, because Sammie doesn’t know that Grandpa’s cancer has spread. Still, I’m mighty proud of her for offering to help. I hand the jacket to her, and she leaves the room.
“I really like that gal,” Grandpa says. “Where did you find her?”
Shock jolts my pulse, and a sheen of sweat pops over my forehead. Did he find out Sammie’s a fake?
Grandpa chuckles. “You look like I asked you a question you didn’t expect on a test. I heard it was a big surprise. How did Sammie’s mom track you down?”
“It’s a long story.” I wipe my hand over my forehead. “She narrowed it down with the help of DNA databases.”
“I’ve heard of criminals caught decades later because a distant relative submitted to a DNA database,” Grandpa says. “They didn’t have those back in my day. I wonder…”
“You mean you might have wild oats, too?”
He clears his throat. “I made my way through quite a few haylofts back in the day.”
“Yeah, well, things are different these days. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I found Sammie. She’s fun to talk to, and I see a great future for her.”
“She’s really special, and she understands things. Not like other kids. Must be the homeschooling. She talks just like an adult, very mature. It’s like you can reason with her and discuss things like normal people.”
“Oh, she still has her teen moments.” I fluff the pillow for him and point the bed toward the tree. “Caught her with that boy, Will, kissing in the snow.”
Grandpa cackles with laughter until he coughs. “Must be a shock to be father to a teenage girl without any practice.”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, did Dad talk to you about the competition?”
“Yes, and I love it. Let’s call it Elfprentice. One of the three will get the Christmas cottage. I say let the games begin. What task shall we ask them to do first?”
“Why don’t we just play it by ear? Don’t you want the kids to act naturally? I spoke to Lindsay, and we agreed not to burden the children with this.”
“Oh, you’re right. They don’t know I’m dying.” He puts his hand over his chest as if feeling for a heartbeat. “Yes, let’s keep it a secret. I’ll keep score on my own, and then on New Year’s Day, I’ll announce the winner.”
“Actually, just tell me and Lindsay, and change it with the lawyer. We don’t want to pit the kids against each other.”
“Ah, yes, this isn’t a game show. It’s our family.” He nods, closing his eyes. “How I wish I had more great-grandchildren. It’s children who are the magic of Christmas. To see it through their eyes—that’s what makes it all worth it, especially the ones who believe in Santa. I guess these three are too old.”
“Probably, but they still love Christmas.” I sit at his side. “See that tree? Will, Abbie, and Sammie all had a part in bringing it back to you.”
“I wish I were really Santa, and I can see them when they’re sleeping, know when they’re awake, observe them when they’re good or bad. These days, I suppose that’s creepy.” He laughs and takes a wheezy breath. “I love the scent of the tree, the hot apple cider, the roasted chestnuts, the baking, the ham and cookies. I’ll die happy if I can have one last perfect Christmas.”
I have no words. I hope he’ll have many more Christmases, but I don’t want to give him false hope. I give his shoulder a squeeze and help him put on his yak’s hair beard, being careful the hair doesn’t interfere with the oxygen tubes under his nose.
