"After," I said quietly. "Help Ryan finish. Then I'll show you something."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
We settled onto the bench. Ryan immediately scooted closer to show Alex his spelling progress. He'd written "dragan" and crossed it out before writing the word correctly.
"Looking good," Alex said. "Now, what else should we tell Santa about Marcus?"
While they worked, I let my attention drift to the reindeer pen. The buck—I was almost certain now that his name was Donner, though I couldn't have said how I knew—stamped his hoof in a pattern I recognized from my grandfather's stories. Three quick, two slow. A greeting, or maybe a reminder.
I know, I thought.I haven't forgotten.
Whether he heard me or not, Donner's head dipped once before he turned to accept an apple from a delighted child.
"There." Ryan's triumphant voice pulled me back. "Do you think Santa will understand?"
Alex reviewed the letter one final time. "I think Santa will know exactly what Marcus needs. This is beautiful, Ryan. You're a great friend."
The boy beamed, then threw his arms around Alex in a hug that clearly caught him off guard. Alex recovered quickly, hugging back with genuine warmth.
"Will you make sure Santa gets it?" Ryan asked. "You're playing him in the show, so you probably have a direct line, right?"
"I'll make sure." Alex folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his coat pocket, next to his heart. "Marcus is going to have a great Christmas. I promise."
Charice appeared to collect her son, mouthing "thank you" to Alex over Ryan's head. As they walked away, Ryan looked back twice to wave.
"The reindeer?" Alex's voice was soft.
I nodded and led him away from the festival crowds, toward the quieter streets that led to my workshop. The colored lights faded behind us, replaced by the gentler glow of porch lights and the deep blue of an early winter evening.
Neither of us spoke until we reached Cedar Street. Then Alex said, "She wants an answer by December 27th."
"Claire?"
"The audition would be on January 3rd. Enough time to get back to New York, prepare, and do it right this time." He walked steadily beside me, his breath misting in the cold. "She thinks I'm crazy for not jumping at it immediately."
"What do you think?"
"I think when I first arrived here, I would have been on the next train." He stopped walking and turned to face me under a streetlight. "I think now I understand there's more than one kind of success."
"Are you—"
"I'm not saying no to the audition. I'm not saying yes either." He reached for both of my hands. "I'm saying that I want to make this decision as the person I've become, not the person I was running away from being. Does that make sense?"
"It makes perfect sense."
"Good." He smiled. "Now take me to your workshop and explain the reindeer thing, because I've been patient since I arrived, and I'm dying of curiosity."
I laughed. "You might regret asking."
"Try me."
We walked the last block in comfortable silence. When I unlocked the workshop door, warm air and the smell of wood shavings spilled out to greet us. In a corner, a restored Flexible Flyer I'd been planning to donate to the children's ward rested against the wall.
Alex pointed toward the sled. "Is that the one we used?"
"Different one. This one's for the hospital—for the kids who can't go outside this winter." I approached it and ran my hand along its polished runners. "I restore one for the kids every few years. It's kind of a family tradition."
