My Kind of Christmas

Jack, there was a phone call. Dr. Hernandez?”
    “Really?”
    “Is he one of yours? Or a plastic surgeon?”
    “Plastics. He left a number, I hope.”
    “On the desk. He’d like you to speak to his PA.”
    Angie bolted for the phone. In fifteen minutes she was back. “Okay, here’s what we’ve got. The doctor wants to see her for an evaluation. If he can help, he will. His assistant will help me tally the other costs so I know exactly how much money I have to raise. Monday at 2:00 p.m.”
    Mel grinned largely. “Where?”
    “Davis. I’m crossing my fingers that this is a relatively simple procedure. He must be a good man. He’s waiving the office fee.”
    “Do you want me to take her?”
    “No, please let me. But I’ll have to go talk to her and her parents.”
    “I have a suggestion,” Mel said. “She’s very close to the elementary school teacher, Becca Cutler. And you’re close in age. You might want to talk to her, enlist her help, maybe take her with you to the Thicksons’. It could give Megan peace of mind.”
    * * *
    Angie waited until the end of the school day to drive over to the elementary school and introduce herself to Becca. When she arrived, she found the day care staff of three still busy with small children in one room and in another she found a pretty young blonde woman on her knees in front of a miniature table, scraping glue and clay off the top. There was a bucket of soapy water beside her.
    “Hi,” Angie said. “Are you Becca Cutler?”
    She sat back on her heels and smiled. “I am.”
    “I’m Angela LaCroix. Jack Sheridan is my uncle.”
    “I heard you were coming up for a visit.” She stood up, wiping her hand on her jeans. “Nice to meet you.”
    “So, this is the new school,” Angie said, looking around. There were colorful tubs and baskets full of supplies, mats on the floor, little tables and chairs, desks lined up in one corner, a sink, blackboard and a bookshelf.
    “K through fifth,” Becca said. “The sixth graders go to middle school, then there’s the high school in the valley. This was your uncle Jack’s idea. Isn’t it awesome?”
    “He can really surprise me sometimes,” Angie said. “I came to talk to you about one of your kids. It was at Mel’s suggestion. It’s about Megan Thickson—I’ve been helping Mel with a special project.” When she explained what she’d been trying to do and the upcoming doctor’s appointment, Becca teared up.
    “Oh, God, could it really happen?”
    “I have a long way to go,” Angie said. “If the plastic surgeon decides it can be done, the next step is to calculate the cost. Even if he donates his services, there’s still the cost of the outpatient surgi-center, lab work, post-op, et cetera. His assistant will break down the expenses. Then I go hunting for money,” she finished with a shrug.
    “How expensive could it be?”
    “I have no clue,” Angie said. “One of my uncles had a rotator cuff repair. He was knocked out for an hour and the surgery cost twenty-seven thousand dollars. Of course he had good insurance—it was covered. But who knows how costly Meg’s surgery might be? Mel has called all kinds of organizations and agencies and had no success in getting affordable help for Megan.
    “But let’s not get all worried about that part yet—I haven’t even begun to go looking for money. Right now I have to convince the Thicksons to let me take Megan to Davis for an appointment with the doctor. That’s the first step. Would you come with me? We have to find a way to do this without letting her think it’s all set—we have to explain this is only a possibility. I just can’t break a little girl’s heart, so I was hoping you might be able to help her understand.”
    “Of course I’ll go with you. I’d do almost anything for Megan. She’s one of the reasons I’m here, teaching, married to Denny.”
    “Really?” Angie asked, lifting her brows.
    “I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the Thicksons’. I love that little girl. I think she changed my life. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
    * * *
    Once Becca had finished organizing her classroom, Angie drove them to the Thicksons’. Becca lived right down the street and walked to school in the mornings and her car, a small sedan, wasn’t snow and mountain ready. If she had anywhere to go that required all-wheel drive, she took Denny’s truck.
    “How did you end up here?” Angie asked.
    “I came to find Denny. We