“You’ve got that right.” Rising, Carla walked over to examine the red and white onesie, tugging up the sleeves and spreading the thighs, still snickering about snaps. “Aunt Inla, that’s incredible,” she said once she’d gained control of herself, more or less. “The detail work alone must’ve taken days.”
“Christmas magic requires a special effort, don’t you think?” Inla beamed at her praise. “Becken, you need to try it on immediately. We have to make sure the fit is correct before the parade.”
I stared at the red monstrosity. “Do I have to?”
“Nephew,” she growled, her brown narrowing.
I knew that look. It was the same one she’d worn when she caught me sneaking a treat from my mom’s, her sister’s, kitchen. She’d shaken her finger and told me that dinner would be ready soon and to get out of the kitchen this instant. I’d slunk away and hadn’t dared enter a kitchen again until it was my own.
“I don’t even really know who this Santa is,” I said with a snarl.
Both women stared at me. Aunt Inla’s jaw dropped.
“He’s…” Carla gestured helplessly. “He’s the spirit of Christmas. A jolly old man who brings gifts to children.”
“I’m not that old. I’m only thirty-eight.”
Carla frowned, tapping her chin. “Nine years older than me.”
“A nice, mature gap, right?” my aunt said.
Carla’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not sure. Experience can be both an asset and a hindrance.”
Inla grinned and nudged Carla with her elbow. “Depends on where you want to find that experience.”
The two women snickered.
“Once the parade’s over, we’ll return here and greet the children,” Carla said. “I’ll be one of your elves. You’re playing a character. The children know it’s not real, but they enjoy the magic of it.”
“Use the changing area on the first floor,” Aunt Inla said, thrusting the suit at me. “When you come out, join us in the back of the function hall where we have Santa’s Workshop set up.”
“Workshop…”
“Where else do you expect Santa to sit?” my aunt asked with an edge of impatience in her voice. If I kept arguing, who knew where she’d banish me to next. She pointed toward the stairs. “Go.”
Carla bit her lip, clearly fighting a grin. “I can’t wait to see how you look.”
Outnumbered and outmaneuvered by two determined females, I took the costume and retreated downstairs, locking the door to the small room behind me. Brides got ready here before their weddings.
The suit was designed to fit over my regular clothes with room for what I assumed was padding. Once dressed, I looked into the mirror brides used and grimaced. I looked utterly ridiculous.
When I emerged and stomped to the back of the function room where I could hear them talking, Carla’s mouth fell open.
“Ho, ho, ho.” Aunt Inla clapped her hands. “You look exactly like Santa should. Imposing, jolly, and completely magical.”
I felt asinine. The red suit hung oddly on my frame despite being orc-sized, and the hat kept sliding over my right ear. “You’re sure children enjoy seeing someone dressed like this?”
“It’s wonderful,” Carla breathed.
“What’s ‘ho, ho, ho’ supposed to mean?”
“It’s how Santa laughs,” she said. “Deep, jolly laughter.”
“Orcs don’t do that.”
“Santa does,” Aunt Inla said firmly. “Now we must test the full experience.” She took my arm and dragged me over to a red and gold throne adorned with green bows. White stuff that was supposed to look like snow surrounded it, along with a fence where children might wait their turn meeting me in this not-so-jolly suit.
Fake trees. Fake snow. Fake cookies hanging on the trees. Humans truly did have odd traditions.
