The Santa Suit

The Santa Suit Plot Summary

Introduction

The Santa suit hung in the farmhouse closet like a ghost from Christmas past, its red velvet faded but still magnificent. When Ivy Perkins found it on her first night at Four Roses Farm, she never imagined the power sleeping within those crimson folds. A letter tucked in the jacket pocket would change everything—a child's desperate plea written decades ago, begging Santa to bring her daddy home from Vietnam. Ivy had fled to this forgotten corner of North Carolina seeking nothing more than shelter from her shattered life. Her marriage to Kyle had crumbled when she discovered his affair with her best friend and business partner. Now, at thirty-four, she owned a ramshackle farmhouse, four baby chickens, and a growing list of repairs that would bankrupt her. But the letter haunted her sleep. Who was Carlette? Did her father ever come home? In a town where Christmas legends ran deep and strangers became family overnight, Ivy was about to discover that some mysteries demand to be solved, and some magic refuses to stay buried.

Chapter 1: A New Beginning in an Old Farmhouse

The December rain turned to sleet as Ivy's Volvo bumped up the pothole-riddled driveway. Through the windshield wipers' rhythmic dance, Four Roses Farm emerged from the gloom like something from a faded postcard. The white paint had curdled to buttermilk, the front porch sagged in the middle, and the promised roses were nothing but skeletal thorns. Her rescue dog Punkin raised his muzzle from the passenger seat, unimpressed. "What do you think?" she asked him, forcing cheer into her voice. The reality looked nothing like the online listing photos. This wasn't the charming farmhouse of her dreams—this was a money pit with good bones and delusions of grandeur. A black Jeep sat parked by the barn, a lanky man in a lumberjack coat leaning against its hood. Ezra Wheeler looked nothing like the elderly gentleman she'd expected from their email exchanges. Butterscotch hair escaped from beneath his baseball cap, and his lazy grin suggested someone comfortable with disappointment. "You were expecting some old geezer, right?" He held out the keys with practiced ease. "Nobody under seventy is named Ezra these days." The front door fought her like a living thing, its ancient lock requiring the precise combination of jiggling, shoulder-ramming, and what Ezra called "old house diplomacy." Inside, dust sheets covered furniture that belonged in a Brady Bunch revival. The floors were scarred but beautiful, the fireplace promised cozy evenings, and everything smelled of decades-old memories. "The previous owner decided to leave it furnished," Ezra explained, watching her examine a plaid recliner that had seen better decades. "I can get a truck here tomorrow if you want it gone." That night, after Ezra left with promises to return with spare window glass, Ivy explored her new domain. The bedrooms held clothing from multiple generations, the kitchen cupboards revealed Christmas china painted with woodland creatures, and the closet in the master bedroom contained a carefully wrapped box that would change her life forever.

Chapter 2: The Mysterious Santa Suit and a Child's Wish

The box emerged from the closet shelf like buried treasure, wrapped in vintage Christmas paper and tied with red satin ribbon. Inside, beneath layers of yellowing tissue, lay the most magnificent Santa suit Ivy had ever seen. Real red velvet with white fur trim, satin lining, and craftsmanship that spoke of better times. This wasn't some department store costume—this was the uniform of a true believer. As she lifted the jacket, her fingers found something crinkled in the hidden pocket. The paper felt fragile as butterfly wings, covered in a child's careful cursive: "Dear Santa: I have been a very good girl this year. But I am sad becuz my mama is sad. If you could bring my daddy home from the war my mama would smile again..." The letter was signed "Carlette," and it asked for just one thing—the safe return of a red-haired soldier named Everett from Vietnam. No toys, no games, just a little girl's desperate plea to heal her mother's broken heart. Sleep eluded Ivy that first night. The December wind howled through loose windowpanes, and mice scratched in the attic overhead. But it was Carlette's letter that kept her awake, its innocent hope burning like a candle in the darkness. Who was this child? Had Santa granted her impossible wish, or had she learned, as Ivy once did, that some prayers go unanswered? The farmhouse seemed to whisper around her as she lay beneath borrowed quilts, Punkin pressed against her side for warmth. Outside, an owl called from the darkness—lonely, persistent, echoing through the bare winter trees. Ivy clutched the letter to her chest and wondered if some stories were meant to remain unfinished, their endings lost to time and silence.

Chapter 3: Unexpected Connections in a Small Town

The coffee shop buzzed with small-town curiosity when Ivy walked in wearing yesterday's clothes and unwashed hair. The waitress with the platinum ponytail served up judgment with the coffee—everyone wanted to know about the mysterious city woman who'd bought the Christmas house without even seeing it first. Then Phoebe Huddleston appeared like an answer to prayer, her dark eyes kind and her smile genuine. The courthouse clerk had overheard Ivy asking about Carlette and approached with the first real lead: her mother's childhood friend had that exact same unusual name. "Mom lives over in Rockdale," Phoebe offered. "She'd love to meet you and talk about her old friend." Sally Huddleston's memory came alive as she held Carlette's letter. The little girl who'd lived across Spruce Street while her father served in Vietnam, the family that disappeared one day without goodbye. Diana Jones—that was the mother's name. They'd moved to South Carolina after Everett went missing, leaving behind a trail of broken friendships and unanswered letters. But it was the address that mattered: 702 Spruce Street. A house that once sheltered a military family's hopes and fears. Ivy memorized every detail, her reporter's instincts awakening after months of numbness. This wasn't just idle curiosity anymore—this was a mystery that demanded solving. The afternoon light was fading when she left the Huddlestons' house, but instead of returning to her empty farmhouse, Ivy found herself walking the three blocks to Spruce Street. The white cottage with green striped awnings sat like a forgotten memory, its yard overgrown and fence missing pickets. Across the street, 705 Spruce looked well-tended, with miniature American flags planted among the shrubs and a wreath on the door.

Chapter 4: Rekindling Christmas Spirit Through Others

Lawrence E. Jones answered his door with suspicion, but the name Carlette melted his caution like snow in sunshine. The ninety-six-year-old man moved slowly with his walker, his pale blue eyes magnified behind thick glasses, but his mind was sharp as winter air. "Diana was my daughter-in-law," he said carefully, settling into his recliner. "And Carlette was my granddaughter." The story spilled out between sips of coffee and shared pieces of dark chocolate peppermint candy from Lawrence's crystal jar. Everett Jones, helicopter pilot with the 82nd Airborne, shot down over Vietnam in September 1971. A family torn apart by war and silence, a little girl who wrote letters to Santa because her mother couldn't bear to explain that Daddy might never come home. Lawrence showed her the photographs—handsome Everett in uniform, young Carlette with her gap-toothed smile and copper hair. The last contact had been a Disney World postcard years ago, mentioning Diana's remarriage to Walter, Everett's old Army buddy. Then nothing but silence and returned mail. "I keep hoping someday I'll hear that doorbell ring and see that little girl standing on my doorstep again," Lawrence confessed, his hands trembling as they stroked Punkin's patient head. "Maybe that's why I answered the door today." The chocolate peppermints tasted like hope and Christmas mornings, nothing like the commercial sweets Ivy usually avoided. Lawrence explained they came from Langley Sweets downtown, a local institution run by Nancy Langley Bergstrom. Three generations of candy-making tradition, but Nancy was struggling to keep the doors open. Inspiration struck like lightning as Ivy examined the old-fashioned wrapper and tasted the unique pepper-mint blend. This wasn't just candy—this was artisan craft trapped in amateur marketing. By evening, she'd designed an entire campaign around vintage Christmas imagery and old-world charm, offering her services free to the grateful candymaker.

Chapter 5: A Christmas Stroll Toward Truth

The text arrived at the worst possible moment: "OMG! HE WANTS TO MEET ME TOMORROW NIGHT. HELP!" Phoebe was in full panic mode about meeting her online fiancé, the Army Ranger she'd been deceiving with fake photos of a Swedish model. In the space of two frantic text exchanges, Ivy found herself agreeing to impersonate her friend at their first meeting, buying time while Phoebe worked up the courage for truth. The Christmas Stroll transformed Tarburton's sleepy square into a winter wonderland of twinkling lights and holiday booths. Ivy arrived wearing Betty Rae's magnificent Mrs. Santa costume, the red velvet swishing around her ankles as children pointed and parents smiled. The outfit felt like magic itself, warming her from the inside out with something that might have been confidence or Christmas spirit. At five o'clock sharp, she spotted the nervous young man pacing by the clock tower—but this wasn't the buff soldier from Phoebe's photos. This was Cody the real person: six-foot-six, stick-thin, with carrot-red hair and freckles, clutching a wilted daisy and nursing a massive cocoa stain across his khakis. An elf with a cookies-and-cocoa cart had T-boned him during setup, he explained miserably. The truth spilled out in stuttered confessions. Yes, the photos were fake—some catalog model named Estefan. Yes, Cody was a fraud, a lonely soldier who'd stolen someone else's face to win love online. But his feelings were real, his Army service genuine, and his terror absolute as he waited to be rejected by the only woman who'd ever said his name like honey. "She's not coming, right?" His voice cracked like a teenager's. "She sent you to break up with me." Instead, Ivy grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the Methodist church booth, where a familiar elf was ladling cocoa with jingling bells on her toes.

Chapter 6: The Santa Suit's Miracle: A Family Reunited

The Christmas Stroll's magic wasn't finished yet. After reuniting the star-crossed lovers, Ivy spent an hour working Nancy's candy booth, the Mrs. Santa costume drawing customers like moths to flame. Business boomed, children posed for photos, and the vintage marketing campaign she'd designed proved its worth in real-time sales. But it was at Santaland that the evening's true miracle unfolded. Ezra made a magnificent Santa in the borrowed red velvet suit, his natural warmth winning over even the most skeptical toddlers. As his shift ended and snow began falling like Christmas wishes, a middle-aged woman approached from behind the platform. "Mom, I want you to meet Ivy Perkins," Ezra said, and the world tilted on its axis. "I'm Carlette Wheeler," the woman replied, shaking off her fur hat to reveal auburn hair streaked with silver. "And I've been dying to meet you." Lawrence Jones struggled to his feet, his walker forgotten as he stared at the woman before him. The years fell away like snow as recognition dawned. The red hair, the determined chin, the voice that carried echoes of childhood laughter—this was his granddaughter, lost for decades and found again on a night when magic felt possible. The reunion played out in tears and wonder, three generations bridged by Christmas serendipity. Carlette had moved back to the mountains after her son convinced her to open a real estate brokerage in Asheville. She'd been living an hour away, never knowing her grandfather survived, never thinking to search for roots she'd assumed were buried with the past. Ezra was her son—the great-grandson Lawrence never knew existed, named for the grandfather Carlette barely remembered. The threads of connection wove together like Christmas ribbon, binding strangers into family, healing wounds that time had left to fester. As snow fell harder and the town square emptied, four people sat on a park bench sharing stories that spanned generations. The Mrs. Santa costume seemed to glow in the lamplight, as if blessing this moment of impossible reunion with its ancient magic.

Chapter 7: Finding Home Where You Least Expect It

The dinner reservation forgotten, Ivy and Ezra retreated to Four Roses Farm as snow blanketed the mountain roads. The farmhouse welcomed them with twinkling lights and warm shadows, the massive Christmas tree casting magic across scarred wooden floors. They shared bourbon in jelly jars and grilled cheese sandwiches that tasted like celebration. Later, tangled together on the old sofa before the dying fire, they talked about the day's miracles. How a forgotten letter had started a chain of connections that reunited a family, saved a candy shop, and brought two lonely people together on a night when the whole world seemed touched by grace. "It wasn't coincidence," Ezra insisted, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. "This house has been waiting for you. James told me he'd turned down better offers, waiting for the right person to love this place." Outside, the owl called from her tree, but tonight her voice sounded less lonely, more like a benediction. Punkin snored peacefully in his corner, and the baby chickens roosted safely in their rebuilt coop. Snow continued falling past the frost-etched windows, covering the farm in crystalline perfection. Ivy understood now why she'd been drawn to this ramshackle paradise, why she'd risked everything on an online photograph and a desperate need for fresh starts. The farmhouse hadn't just been for sale—it had been waiting, holding its breath through years of emptiness until the right person came along to fill it with life again. The Santa suit hung once more in the closet, its work for the season complete. But its magic lingered in every corner of the restored home, in the renewed connections between grandfather and granddaughter, in the love that had bloomed between two wounded souls who'd found exactly what they needed in the most unexpected place.

Summary

Four Roses Farm stood transformed in its blanket of December snow, no longer the weathered remnant of better days but a living testament to the power of faith restored. Ivy had come here running from betrayal and loss, carrying nothing but a broken heart and four baby chickens. She would stay because she'd discovered something worth building a life around—not just love, though Ezra's presence filled corners of her soul she'd forgotten existed, but purpose. The mystery of Carlette's letter had awakened something in her that divorce and disappointment couldn't touch: the ability to believe in good endings. The magic wasn't in the Santa suit itself, though its red velvet held decades of Christmas wishes and children's dreams. The real enchantment lay in the willingness to act on faith, to knock on strangers' doors and ask difficult questions, to risk connection when isolation felt safer. Lawrence Jones would spend his remaining years knowing his family's story continued beyond his own mortality. Carlette and Ezra had each other now, roots that reached back generations and forward into whatever came next. And Ivy had learned the most important lesson of all: that home isn't a place you find, but a place that finds you, when you're finally brave enough to let it.

About Author

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Mary Kay Andrews

Andrews reframes the landscape of women’s fiction by infusing her stories with Southern charm and a comedic edge. Known for her ability to blend serious themes with humor and absurdity, Andrews creates narratives that are both engaging and thought-provoking. Her novels often highlight quirky characters and vivid Southern settings, offering readers a chance to explore these dynamic environments. The book "Hissy Fit" marked her first New York Times bestseller, while other titles such as "Savannah Blues" and "The High Tide Club" further cement her status as a beloved author.\n\nIn her journey from journalism to fiction, Andrews has managed to captivate audiences through her storytelling techniques. Her writing often reflects her personal interests, like restoring historic homes and treasure hunting, which add an authentic touch to her work. Meanwhile, her cookbook, "The Beach House Cookbook", extends her love for Southern culture into the culinary realm. This unique approach benefits readers who appreciate the intertwining of lifestyle and narrative, providing a holistic reading experience.\n\nMary Kay Andrews's bio highlights her transition from Kathy Hogan Trocheck's mystery novels to a new identity focused on Southern-themed women’s fiction. This evolution in her career has not only expanded her readership but also allowed her to explore different facets of storytelling, from mystery to heartwarming narratives. Her work resonates with those seeking warmth and humor, making her a pivotal figure in contemporary women's fiction.

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