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When Chase’s grandpa caught my look, he shook his head. “Not really my style, I’m afraid, Miss Poole. I’m always afraid the maid will walk in while I’m taking a shower and catch a look at my nekkid willie. And trust me, it’s more her than me I’m afraid will be scarred for life.”

“It is… very modern,” I admitted. Near the window, there was a piece of art—at least that’s what I thought it was—with a bunch of iron rods sticking out of a concrete base. The rods were covered with LED lights and shone with a soft yellow glow. Very, very modern.

The old man offered us a seat next to the concrete construction, and only now did I see that what I’d assumed was a concrete platform was actually a couch with gray cushions. I gingerly took a seat. “Can I offer you some refreshments?” asked Grandpa Kingsley. “Martini? Scotch? I have the full use of the minibar, and the council has assured me I don’t need to stint. Oh, I know what you need. Some eggnog.”

“The council?” I asked. “The council set you up here?”

“Yes, they most certainly have.”

“Please tell me, before I go crazy, what the hell is going on,” said Chase.

“Well, Chaser,” said Grandpa, taking a seat across from us, “that’s a bit of a long story.”

“Tell me. I’ve got all night,” said Chase.

“I don’t. They’re picking me up in…” He checked his watch. “Exactly half an hour. Lucky for you I already had my shower, and now all I need to do is get dressed.”

“Get dressed for what?!” Chase cried. The suspense was obviously killing him.

“I think I know, Chaser,” I said.

“Please don’t call me that.”

Chase’s grandfather leaned in. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to call him that, I’m afraid.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he used to chase all the girls away, of course,” said the old man with a chuckle.

“Please, Grandpa,” said Chase. “Odelia doesn’t need to hear all that.”

“Grandpa, or… Santa?” I asked, with a keen look at the old man.

He grinned.“What gave me away?”

“The beard, the mustache, the hair… the red robe. You look exactly like Santa.”

“Thanks. I aim to please. After twenty years as the Thornton Fifth Avenue Santa I know a thing or two about transforming myself into Santa Claus, of course.”

Chase’s jaw dropped. “You were the Thornton Santa?”

“Of course I was. A man needs a hobby, Chase, and after I retired I needed one more than ever. So I went to one of those temp agencies and they thought I’d make a great Santa. Thornton gave me a shot and I’ve been their Santa for two decades—until they canned me.”

“And you never told me!”

“Every man likes to have his little secrets. And it was only a minor indulgence. Just a few days around the holidays each year. Hardly the big moneymaker.”

“So why did they fire you?”

“New management,” I said knowingly.

A loud ding-dong echoed through the suite and Grandpa Kingsley got up.“Yes, new management. They took one look at my birthdate and decided I was too old. Lucky for me word must have spread about my work, for suddenly a guy from the Hampton Cove council showed up on my doorstep and offered me a job! I had to haggle with him about the price, but eventually we managedto come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

He went to open the door and Chase said,“The well-dressed man. He works for the council.”

I nodded.“Probably the same guy wearing the Knicks cap. And my uncle’s drinking buddy.”

Grandpa Kingsley opened the door and the receptionist with the egg-shaped head peered in.

“Everything all right, sir?”

“Why, of course! I just got a visit from my grandson and his girlfriend, so everything is just peachy. Oh, thanks, buddy,” he added, and took the tray with three glasses of eggnog from the guy.

“Very well, sir,” said the now pale-faced receptionist. “I’m happy everything is to your satisfaction.” He directed an anxious look at Chase, obviously wondering where he’d put the gun, but then the new Hampton Cove Santa closed the door and handed us our drinks.

The eggnog was great. Rich and creamy.

“So is your name really Kris Kringle?” I asked.

The old man laughed, his belly shaking.“Close enough! My name is Kris Kingsley.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Grandpa?” asked Chase, wiping his lips. “I’ve been looking all over New York City for you. I even filed a missing person report, for Pete’s sake.”

“You did?” asked Kris with remarkable equanimity. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, of course. And I wanted to see the look on your face when you saw your old gramps mount that sleigh and make his way through the streets of your new hometown.” He took a sip of eggnog. “Mh. Really hits thespot, doesn’t it? Oh, and I was sworn to secrecy. Signed an actual nondisclosure agreement. They even told me specifically not to mention anything to you, as you were dating some hotshot nosy reporter and she was sure to spill the beans on the front page of the Hampton Cove Gazette.”

I blushed.“I’m afraid I am that hotshot reporter, sir.”

“Just call me Kris.”

“I wouldn’t have spilled your secret, Kris. Not if you’d asked me not to.”