“He caught a rapist in the act and put him in the hospital,” Julia said.
Havoc tugged his wallet from his pocket, retrieved a business card, and handed it to Beth. “When your son comes home, have him reach out to us.”
“Thank you. I will.” She accepted the card and slid the plate onto my desk. “It was wonderful meeting you, but I need to go start lunch.”
I thanked her as she left, then turned to address my guests. “So, the club has a reputation?”
Julia nodded. “You should Google them and see what they’re about.”
I flipped open a pad of paper, grabbed a pen, and jotted myself a note to do just that. Somewhat relieved not to be hosting psycho killer drug pushers, I got back to the business at hand. “In your voicemail, you said you’d like to make a donation.”
“Yes.” She reached over and squeezed Havoc’s hand. “My husband and I would like to sponsor the club to throw a Christmas party for the students.”
“You want to sponsor bikers to throw a party for preschoolers?”
My face must have been doing something crazy, because amusement danced across her perfectly lined lips.
“Yes. And my bookstore will donate children’s books.”
That piqued my interest. “You have a bookstore?”
“Yes. One More Chapter. Downtown. We’re small, but we’ve been ramping up our children’s section.” She patted her belly. “This is baby number two, and by the time he and his sister can read, I plan to have a vast selection.”
Now that was a plan I could appreciate. Judging by the adoration bordering on worship in her husband’s eyes, he felt the same.
Envy stabbed me in the chest, but I ignored it. Jealousy had no place here. I would be nothing but overjoyed for them and the rare, passionate love they shared. They were clearly amazing people who deserved every ounce of happiness they’d found.
Pen hovering over my notebook, I asked, “What exactly would this party entail?”
“We’d like to have it here at the school. Preferably on your last day before the holiday break.”
“Most of our families work, so we don’t get much of a break. We’re open half a day on Christmas Eve.”
Julia looked to her husband, who nodded.
“We can do the morning of Christmas Eve,” she said. “The club has collected tons of new toys already, but if you’d like to send us a list of any wants or needs, we can cover those, too. Clothes, supplies, whatever we can do to make this holiday magical for the children.”
I blinked, mentally questioning my hearing. “That’s very generous of you.”
“We’ll set up game stations. Things like snowball toss, antler rings, and pin the nose on the snowman. A small group—Santa and his biker elves—has volunteered to help. We’ll have the party catered, and will provide you with a full menu ahead of time for your approval, of course. We’ll also supply the names and info for all biker volunteers, and we’ll cover the cost of their background checks. This won’t cost you—or the school—anything.”
I jotted down the details, my hasty scribbling betraying the cautious excitement injected into my nervous system. Were they for real? “Very generous, indeed. And detailed. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“We recognize that our proposal is unusual, and you don’t know us, so we ironed out any potential complications ahead of time. It helps that my best friend is a lawyer. Emily Lincoln.” Julia’s expression turned thoughtful. “She’s married to the club president, but she still practices under Emily Stafford. You should Google her, too.”
Adding the name to my list, I sat back and eyed the unconventional couple for a moment. “Why are you guys doing this? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but we’ve never had bikers offer to donate their time and resources before.”
“The club conducted a toy drive for the kids of another preschool and got… well, carried away would be a massive understatement.” She looked pointedly at her husband. “And….”
“I want to be Santa.”
“Oh?” I asked, taken aback.
He’d barely spoken since entering my office, and for the life of me, I couldn’t visualize him asking a bunch of rowdy preschoolers what they wanted for Christmas.
He blew out a breath and straightened in his seat. “As Julia explained, we sponsor another preschool. Helping Hands.”
Familiar with the school, I nodded. “That’s downtown, right?”
