On Sunday she went to the salon. During the busy holiday season it was open seven days a week in order to accommodate all the elves wanting to look their best. Merry sighed with relief as she soaked her feet and closed her eyes until, as fate would have it, a young attendant seated Ginger next to her. The pretty elf with spiked blue hair that was finishing her pedicure looked up at her.
“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered red-faced to Merry. “I guess Holly hasn’t heard.”
“It’s all right,” Merry replied as she thumbed through a magazine.
Ginger seated herself nervously and looked at her nails as Merry ignored her as best she could. Finally Ginger spoke.
“Can I ask you something?” she began.
“It appears you already have,” Merry snapped back before sighing. “What is it?”
“I was just wondering if you knew when the divorce is coming through. I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she continued, placing her hand on her rounded tummy meaningfully.
“I have no idea,” Merry said smoothly. “Santa has the papers. He only has to sign them. If you’re concerned you should make an appointment and speak to him.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Ginger gasped out, a hand flying to her throat in alarm. “If he were to look at me he would know that I’m…”
Merry laughed in derision.
“Are you kidding me? He knows everything,” she whispered loudly, leaning forward. “Haven’t you ever heard he knows who’s naughty and nice?”
“Of course, I have,” Ginger snapped back angrily, “but surely some things escape his notice.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Merry replied. “In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if you and Bernard get coal in your stockings this year,” she continued cheerily. “Thank you, Joy,” she said as she pulled on her boots. “My feet look lovely. I’m so glad they don’t swell up like melons,” she said nodding toward Ginger, “but I suppose if you’re…”
“Merry,” Ginger interrupted. “I love him. I love Bernard! We didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“And it would not have happened if the two of you hadn’t been sneaking around,” Merry pointed out coldly. “In case you didn’t know, it’s hard to have an affair when you’re home each night where you belong.”
“It just happened,” the redhead repeated.
“Yes, I know all about it. I have from the first and to tell you the truth if I’d wanted Bernard you would never have been able to break up my marriage, but I decided he wasn’t worth the trouble as I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”
“He won’t do that to me,” Ginger insisted, her nose in the air.
Merry laughed in disbelief and tipped Joy generously.
“By all means, contact Santa. You have my blessing. I can’t be legally done with Bernard fast enough and to be honest, I feel a bit sorry for you, odd as that sounds. Soon you’ll have two elves to keep track of, your child and your new husband.”
Merry watched Joy cover her mouth with her hand.
“I’ll see you in two weeks, Joy,” she called over her shoulder as she sailed from the silent salon. It seemed all talk and gossip stopped as soon as the patrons realized Ginger and Merry were both present. She had no doubt the salon would be buzzing with gossip as soon as she let the door close behind her.
Still, she was confident she’d pulled it off. Even though she felt like vomiting, she’d kept her head up and smiled as she went through the doorway and out into the cool morning air. The sun was shining but she felt far from cheery. Would it ever stop? Would they ever stop looking at her with sympathy in their eyes? And of course there were the elves that seemed to enjoy her humiliation.
Some of it was pure jealousy, either of her talent or the unique color of her hair which was completely natural. Others were quite simply mean spirited and used the misery of others to feel better about their own lives. In any case, she prayed for the day she would no longer be the subject of speculation and gossip. It was one more reason for her to avoid Bartlett Bright like the plague and that was exactly what she was going to do.
Unfortunately, as she was hurrying away from the salon, she ran smack dab into a hard chest and would have fallen had strong hands not grasped her upper arms, steadying her.
“Where are you rushing off to? You could have been injured.”
“Don’t scold me, Bartlett,” she snapped. “You’re the one who ran into me.”
“Perhaps I did,” he acknowledged removing his hands. “I’m late for an appointment at the salon.”
“Getting a haircut?” she asked looking up at his dark hair.
“Actually no, it’s more of a personal grooming appointment,” he admitted, his face growing redder by the second.
