14
Memento
The next day, exhaustion weighed on my brain. I almost called in sick. But I couldn't. At least at work, I could make someone happy. Cotton-balls stuffed my sinuses and my eyelids dragged with every blink. If only I was allowed to curl up on the fake snow for a nap. I needed some North Pole magic. And vitamins. And tea. But I couldn’t think about hot beverages today–or the pretty, heartbreaking boys who served them.
A little girl stumbled over to our station, slack-jawed and gaping at one of the ornate Christmas trees. “Mommy, can we have a tree like this?”
A woman holding her round belly brushed her fingers through the little girl’s curls, her expression soft and sweet. “I’m not sure it would fit. How about we get a special ornament?”
“Okay.” The little girl swayed as she admired our treasure trove of craftsmanship: delicate glass birds, shiny baubles, and enough stars to grant a galaxy of wishes.
Not mine, of course, but I could sustain myself on other people’s hope.
I strolled over. “I love sparkles, too. I was hoping to catch the Winter Festival downtown for some homemade goodies. But Santa and our elf crew work with Fancee’s to decorate our trees. You can get any of these ornaments from the department store behind us.”
The little girl pointed at a braided gold circlet. “Even the halo?”
I nodded and crossed my arms, leaning to one side as if I was studying her. “You don’t have one at home? I could’ve sworn you were on the good list this year.”
She widened her eyes, then whipped around to face her mother. “Mom, do you think–”
“Yes, you’ve been good this year,” she replied with a little laugh.
I clasped my hands and half-bowed. “Would you two like a photo with the tree? Or I could introduce you to Santa, if you’d–”
“Santa?” The little girl tugged at her mom’s coat. “Mom, Santa’s here.”
I ushered them over. “He wanted to meet as many kids as he could this year. You can say hi if you’re not busy.”
The little girl shrieked with glee and took off down our red carpet, launching herself at Jolly Santa.
He barely got out a hello before the girl rammed into his big round belly, forcing all the air out his lungs in a grunted “oof.”
She couldn’t quite fit her arms around him. “Wow, you’re fat like Mommy.”
The mother covered her mouth and hurried over. “I am so sorry.”
“Santa and I love cookies,” I said, my mouth running dry at the memory of a certain sugary snowman. “What would you want to snack on after a long day of climbing down chimneys or coloring?”
The mother shot me a grateful look as the little girl launched into a conversation with Santa.
An insistent tickle crawled up my throat. I hid behind the trees and snapped a candy cane within its wrapper.
Chestnut strolled in for his shift. “Hey. You look tired.”
I tore open the package and coughed. “Thanks. I closed last night.”
He yawned and jerked his chin at the candy. “Won’t the sugar make you crash though?”
“It’s for my throat. I ran out of cough drops two hours ago. Just gonna keep sucking on these things until I can go home.” I shook the peppermint pieces into my mouth, trying not to grimace at the powdery mix.
Chestnut nudged me with his elbow. “Why don’t you visit Harvey and get some tea?”
My former crush’s name hurt more than the candy shards poking my esophagus. I placed my hand over my heart and swallowed hard, hoping it’d ease the pain. “I’m trying to save money.”
“Bet he’d give you some stuff for free,” Chestnut teased, reaching around me to hide his phone in our nook.
Trapped between his arm and a tree, I tried to avoid my distorted reflection in a shiny bauble ornament. “I’m giving up caffeine.”
