Sleeping With Santa Read Free

hell that’s supposed to mean.” Maresca sat back, making the chair squeak beneath his weight. “Mind filling me in?”
    Nick tried keeping it short.
    But it was hard to keep it sweet.
    Basically, the Star Harbor Fire Chief forced the issue of the transfer. Special assignment. Temporary relocation. However the hell headquarters wanted to file it. The town closed one of the sub-stations. His sub-station. They could’ve transferred anyone. But everyone else had roots. Wives. Kids. Mortgages.
    Nick had nothing. Just himself.
    And a crazy ex-wife who was taking a permanent vacation in his neighborhood.
    The pretext of it all was Nick could use a change of scenery to escape his early mid-life funk. Might as well ship him some place he’d like so he’d never want to return to Star Harbor.
    “The only reason I came to Scenic View is because my chief made me. He found a bunch of letters sent to the firehouse addressed to me from an attorney here in town.” Nick pulled out an envelope and flashed Maresca the label on the flap. “Being how I don’t have any business around here, I just chucked the letters every month without even opening them, figuring it was junk mail. His secretary thought they were thrown away by accident, so she picked them out of the trash and gave them to the chief. The day he dropped the bomb about the transfer, he pulled out a wad of envelopes. Opened one of them. Read it. Showed it to me. I thought it’s gotta be a joke. He figured it’s worth looking into.”
    Maresca leaned on his elbows, inching closer with Nick’s every word. “Ya killing me with the suspense.”
    Hesitant to admit his wondrous windfall aloud, like saying the words would be a gigantic jinx, he slid the paper out of the envelope and handed it to Maresca.
    “Well, I’m not being sued like I figured. And no one’s looking for child support.”
    “Ah-ha.” Maresca scanned the paper and nodded. “I should have put two-and-two together by the last name. You’re the one the town’s been looking for. Your uncle was a good man. If you don’t mind the pun, we considered him a regular knight in shining armor around here. He passed away a few years ago. You’re just coming around now to claim the estate?”
    “Great uncle,” Nick said. “I never met him. Guess it took the lawyer some time to track me down. Glad to know the old man was a nice guy.”
    “A regular saint. When the church burnt down, he paid for everything—from the building to the new Bibles. He was responsible for the community clubhouse. The upgraded playground in Rocketship Park. The expansion to the hospital. Even founded the Secret Santa Society we operate outta the firehouse. Helluva guy he was. God rest his soul.”
    No saint himself, Nick wasn’t ready to accept the honorable challenge of filling the dead man’s shoes, although accepting the money had been pretty painless so far.
    Maresca handed back the letter, and Nick folded it carefully, putting it away like it was something sacred. It was, after all, the million-dollar letter.
    And if it weren’t for the Star Harbor Fire Chief forcing him to read it, he never would have known about his great, big, fat inheritance. He hoped the bottle in transit was enough of a thank you until he could do something more, like pay off the guy’s mortgage. Or the grandkids’ college careers. Something major like that.
    With ten million in liquid cash, plus numerous real estate assets dotting Long Island, Nick went from getting by, to being able to buy anything. His first major purchase was a special order custom camper so he could cruise through his impending mid-life crisis in style. He was still a few years away from forty, but when it hit, he’d be ready.
    “Well…I guess that’s it then?” Maresca sighed.
    “What’s it?”
    “You’re here to tell me you’re retiring now, aren’t you?”
    Caught off guard, lost in a daydream, he half-nodded, half-shook his head, and shrugged in an awkward motion.