It was a terrible idea. Carol-oke only existed as filler to distract the kids while Santa took his lunch break, and even then, Mira was pretty sure that no one liked it but the singers. The parents only put up with it because it was better than a whole hour of, “When’s Santa coming back? When’s Santa coming back?” No one wanted to listen to it all day. Most of the kids who flocked to the Christmas Village were good-natured and enthusiastic, but they weren’t, to put it gently, on the verge of being chosen for the National Children’s Chorus. They shrieked as much as they sang.
All-day carol-oke was a headache waiting to happen. It would torture the parents, it would torture the elves, it would torture Wade. The only Christmas Village person itwouldn’tbother was Marsh ... because he was the only one who could leave at any time.
He wasn’t stuck waiting in line with a son or daughter desperate for a one-on-one with Santa. He wasn’t icing gingerbread men at the bakery booth or trying to figure out how to wrap a present that came in a trapezoidal box. He certainlywasn’t in Santa’s chair, because she couldn’t think of anyone here less qualified to play an icon of generosity and goodwill.
Everyone grumbled about all-day carol-oke and pointed out everything Mira had been thinking, but Marsh dismissed their concerns with a wave of his hand.
“I don’t want to hear these complaints! Where’s your pep? Where’s your holiday spirit?”
Shockingly inaccessible right now, Mira thought, and to her surprise, the truth of that stung a little.
She’d always loved Christmas. It had always taken up the whole month of December for her, in a kind of prolonged delicious anticipation. The days leading up to Christmas were reserved for baking (peanut butter blossoms and molasses cookies were her favorites), watching classic holiday movies, decking her halls with boughs of holly, and retrieving each day’s piece of foil-wrapped chocolate from her advent calendar. This year, she hadn’t even bought one. She had barely managed to put up a tree. She hadn’t even watchedIt’s a Wonderful Life, let aloneChristmas in ConnecticutandMiracle on 34thStreet.
The bright, colorful Christmas Village had been her sole source of holiday delight, and Marsh had been steadily sucking all the joy out of it.
It wasn’t just him, though. It was also the stress. For the last few weeks, life had bounced her around like a pinball. Podcast recordings—ping!—freelance video editing—ping!—Christmas Village—ping!—worrying about her parents—ping, ping, ping!
It had been a while since she’d gotten to indulge in anything. Since she’d gotten to really enjoy herself. Lately all her pleasures had been stolen ones, like the gentle, surreptitious pressure of Wade’s body against hers during this interminable crack-of-dawn work meeting. And that was great, but what would it be like if she had time and space to devote herself to that? To whatever was already building between them?
What would it be like to touch him all over, on purpose, not just casually and accidentally?
That made her breath catch in her throat, so she quickly shifted gears:
Honestly, I’d settle for a fresh-baked peanut butter blossom and a movie. A couple of hours away from any obligations and any worries.
A little bit of a carefree Christmas. Wouldn’t that be nice?
When Marsh finished shooting down all the objections to the carol-oke change, he pointed at Mira.
It was like instant vertigo. She could feel her soul dropping inside her.
So much for carefree Christmas.
“And you, Mira,” he said, “will staff the carol-oke booth today.”
“All day?” Mira said. The words took on an agonized squeak that was unfortunatelyveryexpressive of her feelings about this.
Marsh clearly relished her discomfort. His smile really did spread ear-to-ear, like in a cartoon.
“All day,” he confirmed. His voice grew sickly sweet: “But don’t worry, you won’t be doing iteveryday. We’ll all take turns. I’m sure tomorrow will bring something exciting and new.”
Wade raised his hand.
Marsh’s smile vanished, and his face went through a series of unpleasant contortions. He didn’t want Wade as Santa, butkeepingWade as Santa was the only way to maintain the Christmas Village’s perfect image until the end of the year.
“Yes, Wade?” he said through clenched teeth.
“You said we’ll all take turns. Does that mean—”
“Obviously not you,” Marsh said impatiently. “Your only job is to be in that chair.”
“I was going to sayyou,” Wade said. “Does that mean you’ll be taking a turn at hosting carol-oke singalongs too?”
There were a few stray snickers and suppressed laughs in the back, and Marsh’s face purpled.
“I’m busy,” he snapped.
“I just think it would be really good for morale,” Wade said. “People like seeing leaders pitch in with the grunt work.”
