Tempting, but I think we can manage something a little more efficient and a little less, you know, illegal and terrifying.
But less effective, his polar bear said.
That was technically true, so he didn’t bother denying it. Besides, he wanted to focus on Mira, not his own vengeful subconscious.
“You’ll get through it,” Wade said. He would make sure of it, no matter what bullshit Marsh tried to pull. Treating her like this was ridiculously horrible and unfair. “Slip into the back for a minute, or go get yourself some hot chocolate, or whatever you think will help. Definitely take some aspirin. I’ll cover for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Mira wiped at her eyes again and gave him a shaky smile. “Okay. You’re my hero, you know.”
We’re her hero!his polar bear enthused.We should eat—
Don’t say the kids, Wade thought quickly.
I wasn’t going to say that,it said, sounding injured.They’re just cubs. I was going to say we should eat the noisy machine.
Huh. Destroying the carol-oke machine? That wasn’t a half-bad idea, and everyone here would thank him for it.
But Marsh had put Mira in charge here. He would have to allow Wade to take over for short intervals like this one, since he was the one who’d told him to do it, but Wade had thenot-so-funny feeling that if anything went wrong, Marsh would makeMirapay the price. Marsh’s Christmas Village wasn’t the awe-inspiring success he had dreamed up in his head, and he’d already decided to take his frustrations out on the one person who would put up with them.
If she needed the bonus, then Wade needed to make sure she got it. Even if it meant biting his tongue to keep from antagonizing Mash any further.
Even if it meant letting the carol-oke machine live.
As the children wound down their latest performance of “Jingle Bells,” Wade cleared his throat and stepped in.
“Santa!”
“I don’t think any of you have been up to see me yet,” Wade said. He wished he could have managed a boisterous ho-ho-ho, but he didn’t think he could pull it off. He tried for a twinkle in his eyes, instead. “Is carol-oke more important than making sure I know what to bring you for Christmas?”
“It’s not!” one mom called, her voice edging into frantic territory. “It’s really not. So not.”
“Carol-oke should be on the naughty list,” a dad added, not quite under his breath.
The “Jingle Bells” choir at least agreed with the mom: carol-oke was not as important as Christmas presents.
“But now we have to get all the way at the end of the line,” one of them said, kicking a tuft of artificial snow. “Maybe we should just sing until the line’s gone.”
She reached for the machine to restart “Jingle Bells.”
Wade eased in front of it just in time, blocking her with a wall of red velvety suit.
“The line only looks long from here,” he said. “It’ll go by so fast. But if you stay out of it, more people will just keep coming and coming, and it’ll never get any shorter.”
The kids traded looks. “I don’t know,” their elected representative said, drawing the words out.
Wade almost settled for the pyrrhic victory of telling them that they could keep singing if they just switched the songs up a little more often, but then he had a better idea.
“As an early Christmas present, let me see what I can do about the line,” he said. “And don’t start the carol-oke up again yet—it interferes with Santa’s magic.”
That was an angle he’d certainly never tried before. The choir looked a little suspicious about it, but no one immediately grabbed at the carol-oke machine the second he stepped away, so he’d take it.
He hurried over to the line.
“One of our elves would love to treat everyone in line tofreecookies and hot chocolate over at the snack stand,” he said. “All you have to do is step out of line for a minute or two and go have a delicious treat.”
