Thursday, November 25, 1954
Thanksgiving Day

Jules K. Lytell strolled down Main Street, weaving through the many colorful floats and marching units that were waiting for Sleepyside’s annual Christmas parade to begin.  As president of the Chamber of Commerce, he had chaired the parade committee each year since its inception over thirty years ago.  However, this year the owner of the newest business to open in town finagled creation of a new committee for “Marketing and Promotion” and, as its chair, had taken control of the holiday kick-off.

“Society matron,” he mumbled to himself. “You’d think this was Manhattan with all her big city ideas.” Of course, he had to admit that she had gotten the younger and more energetic chamber members involved for the first time and this year’s parade was the biggest ever. Jules knew that many businesses relied on holiday sales to carry them through the slow winter months and, for some, the entire year, and the parade and other holiday activities might allow them to remain open. Interiors, Madeleine Wheeler’s “boutique” as she called it was more hobby than business and he didn’t know why a big parade was so important to her.

After finding his seat in a grandstand erected in front of City Hall he realized that, despite all his protestations otherwise, he had loved being chairman of the annual Christmas parade.  Each year he had grumbled and complained incessantly during the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, fretting that the bands would be out of tune, the majorettes out of step, the floats tacky and Santa anything less than perfect. Those concerns had lingered and, unable to sit and wait, he was compelled to mingle with the participants and confirm that everything was perfect.

“Good weather today, Mr. Lytell!”

“Too cold,” Jules growled at the director of the high school band. He wondered how anyone could maintain order of one hundred-plus hormonal teen-agers.

He nodded to Diana Fann, the owner of Teen Town, a store that catered to those hormonal adolescents.

“Nice beard,” she called out as he passed.

Mr. Lytell rubbed his beard.  He’d reluctantly participated in the Chamber’s Movember fund raiser for cancer research, and had been pleasantly surprised when his beard had grown out full and completely white.

“Hey old man! How ya’ doing?”

Mr. Lytell started to growl at Joe Delanoy, but hesitated.  Joe was one of the most active members of the Chamber. He waved towards Joe’s large tow truck with Christmas carols blaring from a sound system set up in the back. The stenciled Delanoy’s Garage on the doors were almost completely concealed by tinsel and fake snow that was sprayed all over the vehicle.

“People need to see the name of your business,” he tried to yell over the sound of Jingle Bells as he readjusted the tinsel. Satisfied, he tapped the side of the truck and continued walking. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Joe’s teen-aged son, Tom, who was behind the truck holding up a sprig of mistletoe above a petite blonde’s head. “Yep, hormones,” he said to himself.

He stopped to straighten the sign on the side of the Roberts Trophy Shop’s float. Nick Roberts, Sr., dressed like Santa, waved to him from the inside of an enormous silver-painted loving cup sitting on the platform. 

“Definitely better than last year!” he called up, remembering the failed attempt to recreate a bronzed Santa trophy.

“Well hello Nicky!  Are you helping your dad today?” He noticed the young boy standing inside the cup with his father.

“Yessir.” Nine year old Nicholas Roberts mumbled, seeming surprised by the friendly greeting from a man he’d always heard detested young children.

“Great day for a parade!”  Mr. Lytell called as he walked on. 

“Happy Holidays!” he greeted others. “Great job!” he offered to those working on their floats. His greetings became louder and more animated, and his step livelier with each group he passed.  Some called back while others stared in silence at his unusual cheerfulness.

Finally, after he had checked to see if the Pilgrim balloons were fully inflated and he had helped to squeeze the Candlestick Maker into a small rowboat with the Butcher and Baker, he came to the last parade unit, where he began closely checking the elaborately decorated float that would carry the most important parade participant.  He nodded his approval at the arrangements of vibrant poinsettias, fragrant pine branches and shiny bunches of holly tied with bright red ribbons.  He smiled broadly when he saw the bright green elves’ costumes and large gift boxes wrapped in festive colors. He stepped back to ensure that the large velvet and faux fur covered sleigh was properly centered on the platform.

He was ready to congratulate Earl “Sonny” Crimper on the excellent workmanship when he noticed the wooden reindeer.

“Jules! Good to see you!” Sonny came around the float and offered his hand. “Are you looking for Dad?”

“Good to see you repainted everything and I really like the new elves costumes, but those reindeer aren’t quite right.”  Mr. Lytell started to climb up onto the platform.  “I was afraid...”

“Wait Mr. Lytell! Let me help you!”  Sonny quickly jumped onto the float and helped the older man up. “What’s the problem?”

“You’ve got it all mixed up.”

“What’s that?” Sonny looked around the float.

“You’re making a mistake. A mistake with the reindeer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“First, you have Cupid where Vixen should be! And Dasher should be on my...ah...Santa’s right hand side.” Mr. Lytell shook his head in disgust as he tried to move the wooden animals around.

Sonny hesitated and then began helping the older gentleman.

“Oh, no no no. Donner has four point antlers, not three.”

“Do you think anyone will notice?” Sonny didn’t understand the concern.

“I noticed didn’t I?” Mr. Lytell squeezed between the two rows of prancing wooden animals and stopped short.

“What is this?” He poked at a man lying between Cupid and Vixen.

“Merrrry Kissmus.  Merrry Kissmus.”  A rotund man waved his flask at the two men. He was clad in a dirty white t-shirt, red velvet pants, one shiny black boot, and his fake beard was pushed up onto the top of his head.  “Juss getting some fordificashun fer dee pwade. A man’s godda do summin to keep warm!” 

“This is a disgrace! YOU are a disgrace to the tradition of Christmas!”

Mr. Lytell turned to Sonny. “Your father NEVER would have allowed this to happen!  You MUST take care of this IMMEDIATELY!” 

“Hey li’l Sonny boy. Wanna’ drink?” the disgraced Santa offered his flask. “Take uff dee chill.”

Sonny ignored the offer and tried to get the Santa to his feet.  The corpulent man began mumbling his gratitude, then vomited all over one of the reindeer. 

“Oh my, oh my,” he offered. “I beleeb I’ve sullied Dancer.”

“It’s Prancer,” Mr. Lytell corrected indignantly. “This is scandalous, Sonny. This man is no Santa!” 

Sonny looked at the man who had now slumped down against the sullied Prancer.  “What can I do? The parade starts in minutes and we have to have a Santa.” 

When asked later, neither man could explain exactly what happened next, but within minutes Mr. Lytell was dressed in a red velvet suit and climbing into the sleigh, just as the front of the parade began moving out.

“I do believe the floats are better this year.” Six year old Honey Wheeler looked up at her governess. 

“We weren’t at the Sleepyside parade last year.” Miss Lefferts patted her young charge on the head.  “You were ill and we watched the Macy’s parade from your home.”

“I forgot.” Honey sighed.  She had been sickly most of her short life and this was the first time she’d been allowed to actually attend a parade and not watch from a window high above the street. Up close, the floats seemed bigger and brighter than she’d ever seen.

“There were giant balloons, elaborate floats and dozens of marching bands.  This little Sleepyside production is nothing compared to the Macy’s parade.” 

Honey looked around as the other spectators waved and called to the people riding or marching by. Yes, this wasn’t as big and elaborate as the Macy’s parade, but she decided she liked this parade better.

Honey’s mother Madeleine had always been busy with business and social obligations and Honey always had spent most of her time with a governess and other hired staff, but Madeleine had been absent from home even more since opening an interior decorating shop in the suburban hamlet.

Honey secretly wished that her mother would lose interest in her store, although she understood that was very unlikely.  She’d been devastated when her mother had announced that she had to spend Thanksgiving Day in Sleepyside to help with the parade, but had been delighted when her father suggested that they all spend the holiday weekend in the small town.  Honey had been ill the past week and Miss Lefferts hadn’t thought she was well enough to travel but her father had insisted that Honey be allowed to enjoy the Sleepyside parade and dinner with both parents later that day.

“Look! Look!” People in the crowd began pointing towards the end of the parade.  “It’s Santa Claus!”

“Mother says that he is just a nice man. Santa Claus is just a fairy tale.” Honey looked up at Miss Lefferts for confirmation. 

“Santa!  It’s Santa!” A girl standing behind Honey was jumping up and down excitedly. “Mart! Brian! Look! It’s Santa Claus!

“Santa! Santa!  It’s me Santa!  It’s Trixie! Can you see me Santa? I’ve been good!” The girl fell into Honey and knocked her down.

“Oh my gosh!  Look what you’ve done!” Miss Lefferts helped Honey from the ground. She wiped imagined dirt from the front of Honey’s coat and checked her for injuries. “Are you okay Miss Honey?”

Assured that Honey was uninjured, Miss Lefferts turned to the other little girl.  “Look what you did, you rude child! This girl isn’t well and you could have seriously injured her.” 

Honey looked from her governess to the other child, a girl about her age, dressed in a bright blue coat and with blonde curls spilling out of her matching knit cap.

“I’m sorry,” the girl offered. Two boys stepped up and tried to lead the girl away. “We’re terribly sorry.” The taller and darker of the two boys apologized. 

Tears welled in Honey’s eyes as she watched them walk away. She knew the girl hadn’t intentionally knocked her over and it was obvious the three children had been intimidated by the overpowering presence of Miss Lefferts. 

“Imagine!  Allowing children to run around without proper supervision.” Miss Lefferts checked Honey again. “Why you’re crying!  Are you sure you’re not injured?” 

“I’m fine.” Honey wiped her tears. “I just wish...I’m fine.”

“I think you’ve had far too much excitement today. We’re supposed to join your mother and father later the club, but I think you should rest. Perhaps we can have a meal sent up to your suite.” Mrs. Wheeler had renovated and decorated an apartment above the retail area of her store and had been staying there with increasing frequency as her business took more of her time. Honey had wanted to stay in the apartment during this visit, but it was considered too small for Honey, her parents and the governess. Honey and Ms. Lefferts were staying in a suite at the Sleepyside Inn.

“On no! Please!”  Honey did not want to miss an opportunity to visit with her parents.

“How’s my favorite girl?”  Matthew Wheeler came up to them just as Miss Lefferts began leading Honey down the sidewalk. “Did you see Santa Claus on his sleigh?” 

“We were just...” Miss Lefferts continue to lead Honey away. 

“You’re going the wrong way! Santa will be…” Matt stopped Miss Lefferts and pointed in the opposite direction. “You’ve been such a good girl this year, Honey. You must tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” 

Honey looked up at her father and then to see how Miss Lefferts might respond. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Wheeler, but you know that Mrs. Wheeler has insisted that we not perpetuate that falsehood. Miss Honey must be taught...”

“Thank you Miss Lefferts.”  Matthew cut her short and turned his attention to his young daughter. “I hope you enjoyed the parade.  Are you tired or would you like to go with me to see some of the floats up close?”

“Oh I’d love to go with you Daddy.” Honey tried to pull away from Miss Lefferts but she was tugged back. 

Miss Lefferts loudly cleared her throat. “I think Miss Honey needs to rest; especially if she’s to join you and Mrs. Wheeler for dinner.

Matthew saw the look of disappointment on his daughter’s face and heard the longing in her voice, but accepted the advice of the professional.  “You get some rest, Honey, and we’ll have a great time at the club this afternoon.” 

He turned and started to walk away. 

“Daddy!” Honey called to him. Matthew hesitated but continued walking without turning around, and Honey allowed herself to be led in the opposite direction. 

“Over here! Over here!”  Madeleine Wheeler directed the Santa float to the area reserved for it in the town parking lot.  She had joined the Sleepyside Chamber of Commerce shortly before opening her small business and immediately realized they had no real marketing strategy. She had proposed creating a committee and, of course, became its chair.  Among her duties as such was coordinating the annual Thanksgiving Day parade. 

At first she thought it might be a good way to showcase her organizational and decorating talents and to transform what had been an endless procession of children shuffling along in large boxes or decorated hay wagons pulled by tractors into something that might rival parades in cities like New York and Philadelphia.  But she quickly learned that the business community and, more importantly, the citizens of Sleepyside preferred those homemade “floats”.  And shuffling along in cardboard boxes had been a sort of rite of passage for generations of children. 

Madeleine also quickly learned that organizing the logistics of registering and coordinating the participants consumed so much of her time that she could barely manage her new business venture. She had been staying almost full-time in the small apartment she’d had constructed above her boutique. Fortunately her husband was so consumed with his own business interests that he barely noticed her absence in New York City, and she had a more than capable governess to care for her only child.

Finally, the parade was at an end and her only remaining responsibility was to escort Santa to his “throne” in the small auditorium on the top floor of Crimper’s Department Store.  

“Mrs. Wheeler!”  Earl “Sonny” Crimper, Jr. was leading Santa towards her.  Madeleine watched as they came across the lot, thinking that Santa looked much happier and healthier than he had earlier.

“Hello Earl.” Madeleine refused to call anyone over the age of twelve Sonny. “Are you ready to meet your minions?” she asked Santa. 

“This isn’t the Santa you hired,” Sonny explained. “I fired him.”

“A disgrace!” the new Santa exclaimed. That man was a disgrace to the suit! To the name!  Why he was...”

“Santa was a bit inebriated,” Sonny offered apologetically.

“A bit inebriated?  The man was snockered!”  The new Santa banged his cane against the pavement. “That man regurgitated all over Prancer!”

“He’s done a great job on the float, Mrs. Wheeler. I think we might...”

Madeleine examined the elderly man closely.  He certainly looked like a Santa Claus.  She was a bit concerned about the intensity of his disdain for the original Santa but she had to make an immediate decision. Children and their parents were already lined around the square, waiting to tell the old man what they wanted for Christmas. 

“Can you fill in today?  We’ll pay you, of course,” she asked the new Santa.

“Not a problem!  I’d be happy to help! And you do not have to pay me.”

“Oh, thank you.”  Madeleine almost hugged him, but instead took his arm and led him towards Crimper’s.  “I’m Madeleine Wheeler by the way. I don’t believe I know your name.”

“You know me, Mrs. Wheeler. I’m Kris...I mean Jules Lytell.”  The older man followed her across the town square.

Friday, November 26, 1954

After repeatedly reassuring that prissy governess that he would not over excite or over tire his daughter, Matthew Wheeler led her out of the Sleepyside Inn and across the town square to Crimper’s Department Store.  He may have been denied the opportunity to take her to see Santa the prior afternoon but he would not miss the chance today. 

“Are you warm enough?” he asked Honey.

“Oh yes, Father.”  She squeezed his hand and grinned broadly before quickly covering her mouth with a mittened hand. 

“What is it?”  Matthew looked down in concern. 

Honey looked down and quietly responded that Miss Lefferts had told her not to smile or open her mouth wide until her permanent teeth had grown in to replace the two she had lost a week ago. 

“You’ve lost some baby teeth?” Matthew bent down.  “May I see?”

Honey looked up and opened her mouth. 

“And how much did the Tooth Fairy leave for those two?”  Matthew took her hand and they continued up the sidewalk. “Those were valuable teeth. I’ll bet the Tooth Fairy...”

Honey walked along in silence. “The Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist. That’s just another fairy tale,” she replied hesitantly. “Miss Lefferts took my teeth for safe keeping.”

Matthew stopped abruptly.  No Tooth Fairy; no Santa; no physical exertion; no outdoor play or playmates. Constant piano practice, elocution lessons, etiquette classes...not even allowed to smile! He knew that Miss Lefferts was the enforcer but she was following Madeleine’s instructions. And they were taking all the joy out of his daughter’s childhood!

“I can’t say for certain about the Tooth Fairy.” Matthew resolved to place at least ten dollars under Honey’s pillow that night. “But I do know that we’re on our way to see Santa Claus. I think he’ll clarify this fairy tale business for you.”

Honey smiled as her father led her into Crimper’s. “I really don’t care if we’re going to see Santa or the Tooth Fairy or even that doctor who gives me shots.  I just like being with you, Father.”

Matthew roared.  “Then we shall do just that Honey!”

Matthew and Honey stepped off the elevator and walked through the toy department. “You be sure to tell Santa exactly what you want for Christmas,” Matthew instructed as they stood at the end of the line of children. “Santa will make sure you get whatever you want.

Honey looked up at her father and then over at the man in the Santa suit. A young girl with long blonde braids was approaching him hesitantly. She said something that Honey couldn’t hear, but she heard Santa’s sung response clearly.

Sinterklaas kapoentje
Gooi wat in mijn schoentje
Gooi wat mijn laarsje
Dank je Sinterklaasje

The girl in the braids smiled broadly, then eagerly climbed onto Santa’s lap and began to sing along.

Sinterklaas kapoentje
Gooi wat in mijn schoentje
Gooi wat mijn laarsje
Dank je Sinterklaasje

She then kissed Santa on the cheek, jumped down and ran over to her mother. 

“Dank u. Dank u.” The mother led her daughter away. “Ze zo ongelukkig is geweest aangezien wij ons bewogen en nu.”

“Dank u,” the girl waved to Santa.  Dank u Sinterklaas!”

Honey looked up at her father, hoping for an explanation as to how the old man she had heard her mother call ignorant and despicable could be so kind to a little girl, but her father was talking to another gentleman. 

“Be certain to tell Mrs. Wheeler what a great parade it was this year. She took on a thankless job.” 

“I’ll be sure to.” Matthew paused. “Have you met my daughter? Honey, this is Mr. Belden.  He works at the bank here in Sleepyside. 

Honey offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you Mr. Belden.”

Mr. Belden smiled as he took her hand. “What a fine little lady you are. How old are you?”

“Six, sir.” Honey looked down. 

“I have a daughter your age but she isn’t nearly as polite. She’s the blonde up ahead of you.”

Honey recognized the girl who had knocked her down the day before. The same two boys were waiting with her. 

“Perhaps you’d like to meet her; even come to our house for an afternoon.”

“Honey and I are just here for the long weekend. We still live in the city. Although I’m hoping Honey will be spending more time in Sleepyside with her mother once the business gets up and going.”

“That would be great. You have my number, Mr. Wheeler. I’m sure Trixie would love to have a guest. Speaking of which, I need to get up to her and her brothers.” He turned back to Honey’s father.  “I have Santa duty today.”

“How is Mrs. Belden?  When’s the baby due?”

“Not until February, but it’s tough with those three hooligans.  I’m trying to help as much as...Oh no!  Trixie!”  He ran up and grabbed the blonde girl who was climbing onto a display of bicycles. “It was good seeing you, Mr. Wheeler. You too, Miss Honey.” 

“He was nice.” Honey watched as Mr. Belden’s daughter ran up to Santa, leaped onto his lap and immediately began waving her arms and bouncing up and down while talking. She was quickly joined by a boy who looked almost exactly like her. The older boy, much taller and darker stood back. He finally went over when Mr. Belden spoke to him. Honey wondered if the older boy also didn’t believe in the Santa Claus myth.

“I was thinking that we’d have some lunch after you talk to Santa.”  Her father guided her along the line.

“Do I have to talk to him? Mother and Miss Lefferts say...” Honey watched as the blonde haired girl hugged the Santa and skipped away.  “Yes, I think I’d like to talk to the nice old man.”

Madeleine Wheeler had been on the phone for almost three hours tracking down the shipment of an ivory chess set.  A man speaking very bad English had insisted that it had been sent from Yokohama over three months ago, but she couldn’t get him to confirm to what address. She’d managed to determine that it had arrived in San Francisco but nothing more.  A number of people she had spoken to tried to reassure her that her shipment was well insured but insurance wouldn’t satisfy her customer, the matriarch of one of the wealthiest and most prominent families in Westchester County. 

“Dammit!”  She slammed down the phone. 

“I’m sorry. Jacqueline said I could come on back.”  Sonny Crimper stood at the door to her office. 

Madeleine wanted to groan and send him out but instead, she put on her best smile and invited him to sit down.  She glanced at the antique Anniversary Clock sitting across the room.  She had just over an hour until she was meeting with a woman in Briarcliff Manor.  Hopefully Sonny wouldn’t take more than a few minutes of her time. 

“I see you’re looking at the time but...”

“It’s fine, Earl. Is it about the parade?”

“I just want your opinion.  It’s Mr. Lytell.”  Sonny explained that Mr. Lytell was an excellent Santa. The children and their parents loved him.  But some of his behavior was worrisome. 

“He’s insisted on using the name Kris Kringle, even telling some children he’s the REAL Santa; he’s refused to adhere to chamber and store policies, referring several customers to stores outside of Sleepyside; he’s pretended to speak and sing in strange languages. The list goes on and on.”

“So what do you want from me?” Madeleine pushed her chair away from the desk.

“I’m not sure, but since the Chamber is ultimately responsible for hiring Santa...”

“I’ve only met Mr. Lytell a few times but he seemed perfectly sane to me; a bit cranky, but perfectly sane.” Madeleine glanced at the clock again. “If the people like him and he wants to do it...”

“Could you talk to him?  You do seem to have a way with him...I mean you created the new committee and he stepped down and...It’d just be to get a second opinion, I mean to insure that he...”

Madeleine shrugged.  She had neither the time nor the desire but if the Chamber was responsible, she supposed she had no choicebut to help.

“I’m on my way to a meeting but send him over around one.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.  I can’t tell you...”

Madeleine stood up and followed Sonny to the door.  “It’s nothing,” she tried to reassure herself as well as Earl Crimper that Jules Lytell would make a great Santa as long as he toned down the nonsense.

After her visit with Santa, where Honey had insisted that he might be a nice old man, but he would not be delivering any gifts on Christmas Eve, her father had led her through the toy department. His keen interest in any toys that might interest her only confirmed her belief that her parents would be providing any Christmas gifts and not a magical elf called Santa Claus. 

“So do you think you’d like a play house?” her father had asked as they left the store and headed up the sidewalk along Main Street.  “Maybe I could visit you in it and you could make me a dinner.”

“I don’t make dinner, Father. Cook does that.”  Honey shook her head at his silliness. 

“Oh, you could make me something special that we don’t usually have prepared by Cook. Maybe my favorite food.”

“What’s that, Father?”  Honey realized she didn’t know what foods either of parents enjoyed. She usually ate her meals alone or with Miss Lefferts and Cook seldom prepared the same things for her parents.

“Hamburgers!  Hamburgers with lots of onions and ketchup and a side of French fries!” Her father rubbed his stomach.

“But isn’t hamburger bad for you?”  Honey looked up at her father. “Miss Lefferts said...”

“Well,” Matthew looked at those wide inquisitive hazel eyes. “Miss Lefferts says a lot of things...” He stopped short not wanting to directly undermine his daughter’s governess. “When’s the last time you had a hamburger and fries?”

Honey hesitated. She’d never had hamburger. And while she had been studying French for almost a year, she certainly had never had any of their fries. “I don’t know.  Maybe never?”

“What? That’s...that’s...well, I know EXACTLY where we are having lunch.”  Matt grabbed her hand and they ran up Croton Street Hill towards Wimpy’s Diner.

An hour later, with her tummy feeling fuller than she could remember, Honey could barely keep from skipping as she and her father headed back down the hill towards Main Street and her mother’s shop. 

“That was the best lunch ever, Fath...I mean Daddy.”  During lunch her father had insisted that she call him that. “I really love hamburgers, but not onions.”  Since she had no idea what she wanted “on her burger”, her father ordered it just like his. To her surprise, he allowed her to take off the onions that she found bitter. However she had liked the cheese and pickles almost as much as she did the French fries dipped in catsup, even though they weren’t really French.  And she found it had been fun to eat them with her fingers instead of a fork. 

She could only eat about half her sandwich and fries, but her father hadn’t scolded her at all.  He just praised her for her “healthy appetite” and ordered a hot fudge sundae for them to share. 

Dessert without clearing her plate! Yes, this had been the best lunch of her entire life. 

“Now, I think it might be best to not mention where we ate to your mother,” her father warned as they neared her shop. 

“I can’t lie, Daddy.”

“Oh no!  I don’t want you to lie at all.  If you mother asks we must be truthful.  But if she doesn’t ask... Well, let me deal with her either way!” Matthew held the door open and Honey stepped inside. 

Her mother’s assistant, Jacqueline, who was placing brightly colored balls in a large crystal bowl, greeted them as they stepped in.  “Someone is with Mrs. Wheeler right now, but...”

Matthew ignored her as they walked through the small storefront and into the office where Madeleine was meeting with the Santa Claus from that morning. 

“I understand, but Jules...”

“Kris. It’s my middle name and I think it’s much more suitable.” Mr. Lytell turned and, seeing Honey and her father stood up. “Well well, if it isn’t little Miss Wheeler.” He reached down to take Honey’s hand. 

Honey looked from one parent to the other for approval.  No one had ever greeted her before and adult and she wasn’t sure of the rules of etiquette for this. When neither parent objected she shook his hand. “Good afternoon Mr. Lytell.”

“Such a lovely lady.”  He commented to the Wheelers before sitting down again.  “Now, Honey, I thought we had a wonderful visit this morning.  Did I manage to convince you that I am real?”

“I was hoping you’d explain to her, Jules.” Mrs. Wheeler interrupted. “We have chosen not to perpetuate...”

“Kris,” he corrected.  “And I have tried to explain to Honey...I most certainly am real.”  He motioned for Honey to step closer and she did.

“You tugged on my beard, didn’t you?” He took Honey’s hand and pulled on his facial hair.  “Real, isn’t it?” 

Honey nodded.

“And my tummy.” He laughed heartily and patted his stomach. “A bowl full of jelly?”

Honey nodded. “I never said YOU aren’t real.  But you’re just a nice jolly man.  Santa Claus is just a...”

“Oh my my my!  What must it take?” Mr. Lytell shook his head in disappointment.  “You must believe in the magic of Christmas?”

“We’re working on that.”  Matthew finally spoke up. “I plan for this to be Honey’s best Christmas ever.”

“Jules...I mean Kris...I think we’re done for today.” Madeleine interrupted before more could be said.  “As I already indicated, I’m excited at the prospect of your serving as our Santa Claus this year. You’re sure that your store on Glen Road is covered?”

“Oh yes!  I’ve left Alfred in charge and I have plenty of helpers this time of year! They’re called elves!” He laughed heartily at his joke.

“And you have a place in town where you can stay?”

“Now that...that could be a problem.  My eyesight isn’t what it once was and I’m not allowed to drive after dark. And the sleigh is in the shop.” He turned and winked at Honey. “But I’ll...”

“Why don’t you let him stay in the apartment above the store?”  Matthew spoke up.

“But...but what if I need to stay over? Where will I stay?”  Madeleine clearly did not want to give up her apartment.

“I’ll get a bigger suite at the Sleepyside Inn. That way, there will be room for all of us. Honey and I can spend even more time with you.” It was obvious that Matthew’s mind was set.  “My calendar is almost clear over the next few weeks and this might be the perfect opportunity for us to spend some time together. Yes, Honey and I will stay here. Miss Lefferts can tutor her so she can keep up in school and I’ll go into the City when necessary.

“A Christmas in the country!  How does that sound, Honey?”  It was obvious that he had made the right decision by the look of happiness on his daughter’s face.

“Jules...I mean Kris...We can show you the apartment now.  It’ll be ready for you by the time you end your shift tonight.”  Matthew held open the door for Mr. Lytell and followed him out into the show room before Madeleine could say anything.

Saturday, November 27, 1954

Honey stood at the closed door of her room, listening to her parents argue.  Her father had spent most of afternoon before on the phone: making arrangements for Mr. Lytell to move into the apartment above her mother’s store, extending their stay at the Sleepyside Inn until after Christmas, clearing his calendar at work, advising her school that, once again, she would be taking an extended absence, and doing other things she didn’t quite understand.

Her mother hadn’t come in the night before until after Honey had gone to bed, so she had no idea what might have exchanged between them then.  At Miss Lefferts’ insistence, her father had arranged for a small spinet piano to be delivered to their suite so that she wouldn’t miss her daily practice.  Honey’s father had joined her for breakfast that morning while her mother had breakfast in her bedroom.  Once she finished eating, Honey began her daily exercises on the keyboard, hoping she would finish in time to spend another day with her father.

At first Honey and Miss Lefferts were unaware of the angry voices coming from her mother’s room but, eventually, the shouting became louder than the piano and Miss Lefferts ordered Honey to go to her room and shut the door. 

Honey did as directed, but found that she could now hear every word that was said.

“I will not take her back to the city!  She’s miserable there!  Until Thursday, she hadn’t seen you in over a month.  I think you furnished that damn apartment so you can get away from her…from us!  I did a favor for an old man and tried to make it so your daughter might see you for a few minutes each day. If you can’t get away from that store, maybe she can visit you there.”

“It’s my...MY apartment.  You had no right...and she needs to be close to doctors and hospitals and...she’s not well!”

“So you pawn her off to that, that nanny and run off to Sleepyside of all places.”

“She’s not a nanny.  She’s her governess and tutor and nurse.”

“Whatever! She may have a bunch of credentials but you and that, that...nanny; you’ve taken all the joy and happiness from her life.”

“Joy?  How can she be happy? You’re talking about a sick child!  I don’t have time for a sick child.  I have my business and...and I just want her to be well!  She won’t get well living in a dusty drafty second rate country inn!”

“This second rate inn is costing me...”

“Yes, of course. It always comes to money.  If you’re worried about money...HERE!”

Thud!  Something hit the wall. 

“I don’t need your damn money!  Take your checkbook! You spend your money any way you want! I’m spending mine so I can spend a week in the country, enjoying walks in the countryside, meals in a second rate inn, do a little shopping...and all with my DAUGHTER!”

Honey listened as her father slammed the bedroom door, stomped across the living area and slammed the door into the hallway. She felt her heart beating harder and her breathing became labored.  Had her father left?  He was definitely angry at her mother.  If he left her mother, would he leave her too?  Did her mother really come out to Sleepyside to get away from her?

She fell to the floor and curled up into the fetal position, wondering why no one loved her. 

Honey had no idea how long she had been on the floor when Miss Lefferts tapped lightly on the door. After ascertaining that she was well, Miss Lefferts took her downstairs to join her father for lunch.  Honey and her father then went for a walk through downtown Sleepyside.

“Would you like to go to a movie, Honey?”

“Miss Lefferts says...”

“I didn’t ask you what Miss Lefferts says, I asked what you would like.”

Honey looked at the large marquee that protruded out over the sidewalk ahead.  “The Cameo Theater presents ‘White Christmas’”, she read.

“Do you think it’s appropriate, Fath...er, Daddy?”

“If I say it is!”  He grabbed her hand and they hurried to the ticket booth. 

“What time is the next show?” he asked the young man inside the booth.

“It’s just starting, sir.”

“Great. “One adult, one child.” He threw some money through the opening in the glass and picked up his daughter. 

“Let’s hurry, Honey!” He ran through the plush red carpeted lobby, past the young usher standing sentry at the theater doors and into the dark.  Mr. Wheeler paused just long enough for his eyes to adjust so that he could search for seats. The theater was more than half filled, but he saw two seats towards the front. He set Honey down, helped her take off her coat, hat and gloves and led her to them. 

“What’s VistaVision?”  Honey whispered as they sat down.

“What?” 

Honey pointed to the screen but the picture had changed, so he held his fingers to his lips.  Honey nodded her understanding and sat back to enjoy the movie.  Not only was it the first movie she had watched with her father, it was the first time she had been inside a movie theater. 

For the next 120 minutes, Honey barely moved, entranced with the music, dancing, singing and vivid colors.  When the last notes of “White Christmas” were played and the lights were turned up, she didn’t want to get up.  “Oh Daddy!  It was...it was...”

“Would you like to see it again?”

“Of course.” 

“Then wait here.” Mr. Wheeler stood up.  “I’m going to get some popcorn and a Coke and we’ll watch it again.”  He hurried up the aisle, not wanting to leave her alone any longer than necessary.  

Not only did Honey get to watch the movie a second time, but her father took her back to see it several times over the next week, until it was replaced by “There’s No Business Like Show Business.” 

During that time Honey was required to spend each morning studying with Miss Lefferts.  After lunch and a brief nap she joined her father for a different adventure almost every day.  Some days they explored the stores in Sleepyside and nearby towns; some days they rode horses at a nearby stable; some days they took hikes along the river or drives through the countryside.  One day, when it was snowing heavily, Mr. Wheeler purchased two sleds from the toy department of Crimpers and they joined dozens of local children and their parents on a steep hill in the town park.  Once it got too dark to sled, they sipped hot chocolate and sang Christmas carols around a bonfire that someone built on the banks of Sparta Creek. 

“The only things missing are marshmallows to roast.” Mr. Wheeler pulled Honey close to him to keep her warm.  He knew that he would have hell to pay with Miss Lefferts when they returned.  Each day before they left he promised that he wouldn’t overexert his daughter, that she would be kept warm and they would spend as little time out-of-doors as possible.  And each day he had seen her become livelier and healthier as they spent more and more time getting overexerted and out-of-doors.

“What are mar...marshmallows?”  Honey asked. 

“You don’t know?” Matthew couldn’t believe his daughter, who could speak fluent French, read anything you gave her, compute math problems he hadn’t tackled until he was reaching puberty...that she didn’t know what a marshmallow was.

“Why it’s a food...it’s white and soft and...” He took Honey’s hand and led her towards the parking lot.  “We’re having them for dinner.  In fact, we’re having S’mores for dinner!”

Thursday, December 23, 1954

Honey’s parents were arguing again. They had argued so much since Thanksgiving, usually in whispers, that Honey had long ago stopped trying to hear what they were saying.  Honey didn’t enjoy spending every morning with Miss Lefferts, she it certainly was better than attending school.  With Miss Lefferts, she finished all her lessons long before lunch and, despite the concerns of the governess, she was free to spend afternoons taking riding lessons or, on those days when he didn’t have business in the city, she and her father had their adventures together.  

Each morning her mother checked with Miss Lefferts on her health and progress with her studies.  Occasionally, she drilled her on her French, but after no more than a half hour, she would leave for work.  Once, Honey had woken in the middle of the night to find her mother sitting on her bed, stroking her back, but they hadn’t spoken that night and it was never mentioned. Otherwise, she barely saw her mother.

This morning her mother had stayed late to have a “discussion” with Honey's father instead of rushing off to the store.

“I don’t want to live out here full time. Once the shop gets up and running...” Honey’s mother’s voice was getting a little louder.

“We can keep the penthouse and staff.  I’ll need to stay there during the week sometimes.”

“You forget about Honey’s school!  They’ve been so helpful when she misses class, letting Miss Lefferts work with her alone, and I certainly don’t want her going to the public schools out here. I want to be certain that Honey gains acceptance into the best preparatory school.”

“There are some excellent private schools nearby; Briarcliff is just up the road and Hackley isn’t much further.”

“Oh Matthew.  That’s just proves how little you know.  Hackley is all boys.”

“I’ll change that if I have to!” 

Honey couldn’t hear her mother’s response, but giggled at the idea of her father insisting that she be allowed to attend an all-boys school.

“Well, the realtor is looking. I’m not saying we have to...but I really hope you will consider…” Matthew’s tone was softer. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for…

“A house in the country would be bigger than any job I’ll ever have in the city,” Madeleine mused. “And it would be a perfect way to showcase my decorating skills.”

Honey could barely contain her excitement. She jumped up and down. It sounded like her mother was agreeing.

“No. No. It’ll be too much. Maybe in a year or too, but I must insist that Honey and Miss Lefferts return to the city on Monday and Honey resume her classes at Spencer School after New Year’s.

She didn’t hear her father’s response, but there was no mistaking when her mother yelled loudly, “It’s done, I’ve told you. Done! We aren’t going to buy a house! Honey and Miss Lefferts will return to the City on Monday. You can stay here if you want or…”

Miss Lefferts came into her room at that moment and Honey heard no more of the discussion, but she knew that when her mother said done, there was no arguing. 

“It’s time to get dressed, Miss Honey.  Your mother is hosting a dinner party for some of her new business associates and she’d like you to be there for at least part of the evening.”  Miss Lefferts opened the closet door.  “I selected a lovely velvet dress for you.”

Honey sat at a table in the large banquet room and watched as her mother went from table to table greeting people. Honey had heard her mother say that evenings such as this were vitally important to maintaining their social standing and, more recently, promoting her business.  

Honey thought her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world, especially when she dressed up like she had this evening. Her golden blonde hair was piled on top of her head, and she was wearing a shimmering lace and silk gown that exposed her shoulders and emphasized her tiny waist.  Honey wondered how she could move so quickly and gracefully between tables without hitting something given the many stiff crinolines under her full skirt. Honey had heard someone call it a channel. She had no idea what that meant but hoped that someday she could wear beautiful channel dresses like that.

Earlier that evening, Honey and her father had been dressed and ready long before her mother. Honey sat silently, tapping her patent leather Mary Jane’s on a table leg while her father paced back and forth, downing two bourbon fizz cocktails and smoking at least four cigarettes.  She’d seen him like this before and knew it was best to remain as still and quiet as possible.  It wouldn’t take long before he worked off whatever was bothering him. 

“Ready!”  Madeleine came out of her bedroom and twirled around so that the satin skirt of her dress flew out.

Matthew immediately stopped pacing and hurried over to his wife.  “You are...you are beautiful, Maddie.”  He tried to kiss her but she pushed him away and held up a hand to show a gold chain with large red stones. 

“Rubies. I love rubies. Would you help me with it dear?” Matthew took the proffered necklace and she turned her back to him. 

“Where’d you get this, Madeleine?

Honey wondered if she should leave the room. Despite her claiming to hate it, Honey’s father always called her mother Maddie.  Unless they were fighting. Then he called her Madeleine...and he usually did in the exact tone he had just used.

Madeleine laughed.  “Silly. It’s my Christmas present!”

“From whom?” Matthew checked to be certain it was clasped securely and stepped back.

“From you, silly. I had it delivered from Tiffany’s this afternoon. They have a bracelet to match and I think I may just get that too. 

She grabbed her mink wrap and motioned for Matthew and Honey to follow her out the door.

They had ridden to the Sleepyside Country Club in a hired car with Honey sitting in the back between her silent parents. Honey also hadn’t noticed any interaction between her parents during dinner. Neither had taken any notice of her either. Now that the meal was over and the adults were socializing, Honey waited for someone to excuse her from the table.

“Well, Miss Wheeler!” Jules “Kris” Lytell came up to her. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Good evening, Mr. Lytell.”

“Are you ready for tomorrow night?”

“We plan to attend services.” Honey wasn’t sure what that meant, but she’d heard Miss Lefferts say that. 

Mr. Lytell laughed heartily. “And will you put out some cookies and milk for me?”

“For you?”

“For Santa!”

“Oh! We don’t...My mother explained to me that you are a very kind man who loves Christmas so much that you pretend to be Santa Claus and that pretending can be the same as lying.”

“Do you think I lie?” Mr. Lytell sat down in the empty chair beside Honey.

“I...I don’t think so.” Honey didn’t think someone as kind as Mr. Lytell would lie. “Just pretend,” she whispered.

“If I asked you to pretend to be a monkey and you acted like a monkey would that be lying?”

“No. But...”

“So, for me, would you pretend to be a monkey?”

Honey hung her head down.  “I don’t know how,” she said quietly.

Honey was speaking so softly that Mr. Lytell had to lean in to hear. “You don’t know how to what?”  .

“Pretend. I don’t know how to pretend.” Honey said without lifting her head.

“Have you ever seen a monkey?”

“Yes. My governess has taken me to the zoo.”

“Try to remember what the monkeys did.” Mr. Lytell paused for a moment. “Let me show you. Take your tongue and place it on you top teeth. Like this.” He waited for her to look at him and do the same.

“Now, at the same time push out your jaw. Like this.” He showed her again.

After Honey made several attempts Mr. Lytell approved her facial contortions.  “Now, you need to stand up, hunched over…Yes like this.”  He stood and showed her how.  “And now scratch your armpits.”

“Why? They don’t itch.” Honey stood up beside the older gentleman.  Mr. Lytell hunched over, contorted his face and began jumping around while scratching his armpits, so Honey did too.

“Unh unh unh!”  Mr. Lytell began grunting and Honey did too.

“Oh, perfect!  Perfect!” he stopped, out of breath.  “Do you see now, Honey?” 

Honey stopped and looked up. “Was that pretending?” 

Mr. Lytell laughed heartily. “Oh yes!” he called out. Seeing that a number of people were staring, he sat down and motioned for Honey to sit back in her seat.

“And I wasn’t lying. I was just...”  She lowered her voice to a whisper.  “Pretending.

“I like pretending!” she blurted out loudly. “It was fun!”

“What do you like?”  Mr. Wheeler walked up just as Honey began laughing.

“I just had a lesson in pretending, Fath...Daddy!  It was fun!” 

“It certainly looked like fun! Your mother said it’s well past your bedtime. I called and the driver should be here momentarily.”

Honey’s wide grin quickly disappeared. 

“But the sooner you go to bed, the sooner it’ll be Christmas Eve!  And you know what happens on Christmas Eve!”

Honey stood up without responding. Christmas Eve meant she was another day closer to returning to the city. 

“Can we give you a ride, Mr. Lytell?” her father offered.

“Call me Kris. Yes, that would be nice.  I do have an especially late night tomorrow!”

Mr. Wheeler had planned to leave with Honey and Mr. Lytell but he was called back inside the club just as their car pulled up.  Mr. Lytell assured him that he would ride with Honey to the Inn where Miss Lefferts would meet them. 

“So, Honey,” Mr. Lytell spoke up as soon as the limousine had pulled away from the clubhouse entrance. “There must be something that you want for Christmas that you haven’t told your mother or father you would like. Something that Santa might bring?”

“Mother and Daddy will have lots of presents for me.” Honey stared out the window. 

“Give me a chance, Honey; a chance to bring you a gift that no one...”

Honey hesitated and then took a newspaper clipping from her tiny purse. 

“That’s what I want for Christmas.”  She unfolded it and gave it to Mr. Lytell. 

The older man stared at the photograph. “You’d like a dollhouse like this?”

“No,” Honey sighed. “I want a REAL house. In the country. If you’re really Santa Claus you can get it for me.  If not, then you’re only a nice man with a white beard, just like Mother and Miss Lefferts said.”

“Wait a minute!” Mr. Lytell interrupted. “Just because a child doesn’t get everything on her list doesn’t mean there’s no Santa Claus. Some children wish for things they could never get, like a real locomotive or a B-29 or...”

I’m not asking for a B-29,” Honey interrupted.

Mr. Lytell shook his head. “That’s an awfully big gift for a little girl like you.  What could you possibly do with it?”

Honey sat up straight. “I would live in it with my mother and father!”

“You have a lovely apartment in the city.” 

Honey could tell that Mr. Lytell was concerned, although she wasn’t certain what had upset him.

“I don’t think it’s so lovely,” she crossed her arms across her chest. “I a big white house with a yard—just like the photograph—and it would have a stable where we could keep our horses and trees and a swing...and there’d be hills where I could sled and a lake where we’d swim in the summer and ice skate in the winter and...” she thought a moment before continuing.

“Friends!  There’d be lots of boys and girls nearby.  We’d have a club and go to school together and...

“And Mother and Daddy would be happy there, too.  They wouldn’t argue and they’d have friends and Daddy would take the train into the city and come home almost every night!”

Honey stopped and caught her breath. “I guess you can’t get it.”

“Oh Honey.” Mr. Lytell rubbed her shoulder and shook his head.  “I didn’t say that. But it is a tall order.” He looked down at the advertisement and smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The car stopped and Miss Lefferts opened the door next to Honey. 

“You must be exhausted, Miss Honey.”

Honey got out of the vehicle, Miss Lefferts closed the door and took her arm. “Was that the cranky store keeper with you?”

“Cranky? Oh no he’s...” Honey waved to him as Miss Lefferts led her into the Inn.

Saturday, December 25, 1954

Honey crawled under the brightly lit Christmas tree, checking to see if she’d missed anything.

“Nothing,” she muttered as she crawled back out. “I knew it wouldn’t be here, but I thought there might be a letter or something.”

“Honey, dear.  What are you doing?”  Madeleine Wheeler came over to the tree.

Honey backed out and stood up. Tears welled in her eyes as her mother straightened her dress. 

“Darling, are you okay?  Are you sick?”

Honey shook her head as the tears now ran freely down her cheeks. “I’m...okay.”

“Did you not like all your presents. Your father and I...”

Honey took a tiny lace-trimmed handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her tears. “Everything was lovely, but...but I didn’t get the one thing I wanted; not the one Mr. Lytell was supposed to bring.”

“What was he supposed to bring?” Madeleine sat down on an ottoman and pulled Honey close to her. 

Honey sobbed.

“Oh, my darling,” her mother pleaded. “What is it?”

Honey decided to tell her mother what she really wanted; that she didn’t want books, a big dollhouse, games, dolls, or other toys.  “I want a house. One near here. One where you and I and Daddy can live and be happy. A place where you’ll love me and Daddy and...

“Mr. Lytell can’t get those things because he’s not Santa Claus. He’s just a nice old man with whiskers like you said, Mother, and I should never have believed.”

Madeleine was crying now. “But we do love each other. I love your father, he loves both of us and I...I love you both.  I love you, Honey.  I just...I know I don’t show you sometimes...”

“I may have told you not to believe in Santa Claus, but, oh Honey, you MUST believe in the magic of Christmas. When people love and support each other and have faith in each other...that’s the magic of Christmas.  And Honey, I do believe.  I believe that I love you, and your father, and that you love me, too. And I have faith that we can be happy together, whether it’s here or in the City or anywhere else.”

“Faith?” Honey sniffed loudly.

“Faith is believing in things you can’t see or touch, but knowing those things are real.  You must have faith that things will always work out or come true.”  

“Kind of like if first you don’t succeed, try, try again?” Honey asked.

“Exactly.” Madeleine used Honey’s handkerchief to wipe her own tears. 

“There you two are.”  Honey’s father walked up.  “I just got a call from Mr. Lytell and he said he has something for us out at his store. A gift, I think. He said it was very important.” He held up a sheet of paper.  “He gave me directions. I thought I’d run out there before we ate.”

“Oh, Daddy!  May I come?”  Honey jumped up and down. “Please?”

“I’d like to come, too.” Madeleine stood up.

“Get your coats. It’s cold!”

“Are you certain this is the way to Mr. Lytell’s store?” Madeleine looked out at the dense woods growing right up to the edge of the narrow roadway. “It seems too far out for any type of commercial establishment.”

“These are the directions he gave me. I’m certain I wrote them down correctly.” Matthew slowed down and handed her the paper.  “Check. It said to turn onto Glen Road and proceed about a quarter mile.”

“I believe. I believe. I do believe.”  Honey had been chanting quietly since they left the inn. 

Hearing her, Madeleine tapped her husband’s shoulder and smiled when he glanced over. 

“I believe. I believe.

“STOP!  STOP!”

Matthew slammed the brakes as Honey opened the back door and leapt out of the car. 

“This is it!  This is my house!” she called out as she knocked over a “For Sale” sign and ran across the lawn towards a large elegant house in need of extensive repair.

Matthew pulled the car into the drive and stopped at the closed gates. He and Madeleine followed their daughter across the lawn. They gasped in unison as Honey opened the front door and ran inside. 

“Honey! Come back! You can’t do that!  Honey!” they called to her as they followed her inside. “We’re trespassing.”

Honey came running down the stairs as they stepped inside. “This is it Mother!  This is it Daddy!  This is the house. My house!  The one I asked Mr. Lytell for!”

She ran across the marble floor of the vestibule and into a large formal room. 

“I kept believing. Just like you said Mother! You were right!  We can be happy if we love each other and we believe...”  She opened a French door at the far end of the room and ran outside.

“Honey!  Where are you going?”  Madeleine started to follow her, but Matthew grabbed her arm and pulled him to her.

“What did you tell her? “ 

“I told her that we love each other and if we...”

“Did you tell her that you love her?” 

Madeleine nodded. 

“And that I love her?”  She nodded again.

“And that I love you?” 

Madeleine smiled and nodded. “And that I love you,” she whispered as Matthew brought her head close and kissed her.

“There’s a swing!  And a lake!  And...”  Honey ran back in but stopped when she saw her parents kissing.

“The house is a nightmare.”  Madeleine offered as Matthew kissed her again.  “It’s falling down and will need a total renovation.”

He kissed her again.

“It’ll take at least five years...

“Five, six, seven years. I’ll have to build a stable, too, but I don’t care. I just want to know if we can be happy here.”

“Look Mother!  Look Daddy!  I see other houses!  Maybe they have children!”

“Yes, Madeleine murmured. “Yes. I believe...”

Matthew grabbed Honey and pulled her into their tight embrace. 

“I believe that, too.”

Patricia's Passages Butterflies Home

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