CHAPTER SEVEN
“There you are,” Meredith says, smiling brightly as I enter Elf Central. She holds a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. “Ready for your new assignment?”
“You bet.” My first four nights at Santa’s Village were spent as a floater, which was good because it kept me moving and alert. I’ll eventually have to cover nearly every role in the park. Despite not having any set preference, I’m hoping to avoid the wrapping station; I’m afraid my lack of skills would lead to a lot of unsatisfied customers. Christmas Queen Bridget is a master gift wrapper, and has offered to give me lessons in preparation for when I end up as a Wrapper Elf.
Meredith runs her finger down the list of names on her clipboard and stops at mine. “You’re with Santa today,” she says. “You’ll be what’s known as the gatekeeper. You stand at the beginning of the line, chat with people as they wait, and then let kids through when it’s their turn to see Santa.”
Santa. Of course. That wrapping job is looking pretty good right about now.
Meredith looks at her watch. “He usually goes for dinner around this time, so if you want to float around the village for half an hour or so, then make your way to Santa’s House at six thirty, that should be good. Kasie is working up there tonight too, so she’ll be there if you have any questions.”
I thank Meredith and head off to wander the Village like I’ve done every other night this week. If I could stick with this job for the rest of my time here, I would. There are always plenty of people to interact with, and I love seeing the huge smiles on the kids’ faces and their eyes alight with joy.
Within a few minutes of starting my rounds, I notice something odd: there are a lot more couples here than usual. They’re everywhere. Am I missing something? Is it couples’ night? All of them seem so content, strolling along with linked arms or joined hands, stopping to kiss or gaze at each other with lovey dovey expressions. I’m passing one of the hot chocolate stands when a guy drops to one knee in front of a girl and whips a ring box out of his pocket. People nearby stop to watch, some of them pulling their phones out to snap pictures or record video. I keep walking, and after a moment the air fills with the sound of applause and a chorus of‘awww’.
My feet carry me toward Santa’s House. Just before I reach my destination, I notice a makeshift alley off to the side between where the shops end and Santa’s House begins. I duck into it, needing a moment to collect myself. A pit has been growing in my stomach since my lunch with Bridget and David this afternoon. That pit has been expanding in the twenty minutes since I started my shift, leaving me desperate for a moment alone.
Tears prickle my eyes. I clench my jaw against the sudden, inexplicable onslaught of emotion. I flap my hands in front of my face, blinking rapidly. “Ugh, what iswrongwith you?”
“Umm, I was just hoping to cut through here to the diner,” says an uncertain voice.
I whip around to see a teenage elf staring at me with wide eyes. I force a laugh, backing against the wall to let her pass. “I didn’t see you there. I was just talking to myself.” The look she gives me—as if I’m about to come unhinged and attack her right here in an alley in Santa’s Village—makes me push past her and back onto the street…where I run headlong into Santa.
“Whoa there.” He grips my shoulders gently to steady me. When he sees my face, his beard twitches and his eyes crinkle. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Yes. Fine.”
“Clearly,” he says, the creases around his eyes deepening. Up close, I get my first good look at his moss-colored eyes, a mixture of green hues so unique it makes me wonder if he’s wearing colored contacts. His scent fills the small space between us. No peppermint schnapps smell for this Santa. More like something piney and fresh like cold air. Snow on a field of evergreens.
He studies me, then says, “You never did tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”
I blink at the sudden change of topic. My eyes narrow, and I see he’s younger than I expected. And his beard is fake; seeing it the other night from a distance, I thought it might be real. The red velvet suit is beautiful and looks like it’s old but well taken care of. I try to infuse lightness into my voice when I say, “That’s because I already have everything I want. Thanks, though.” I step back to move around him.
He reaches out as if to touch my arm, stopping with his hand mid-air. “Ivy. There must be something you want.” His voice has changed. It’s lower with the barest hint of an accent I can’t quite place. Normally, if I were in a situation like this, alarm bells would be going off in my head, yet all is quiet. With the elves’ Monday night ritual, I thought this guy might be sleazy, but there’s something about him that puts me at ease. Maybe I do have a latent Santa fetish after all.
When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Something your heart desires. Something Santa might not be able to deliver, but if you put it out there in the Universe, maybe your wish will come true.”
My body sways slightly. There’s something hypnotic about the combination of his deep voice and those eyes. I wish he’d pull down the beard so I could see his face. Realizing I’m staring at him, I blink again to clear my mind. His words sink in and I force out a laugh. “Since when did Santa go all new age?”
His beard twitches again and he gives his head a small shake. “Christmas is a time for magic,” he says with a shrug. “There’s something powerful about a wish made at Christmas.”
“Aren’t wishes supposed to be private, though? I’ve always heard if you say your wish out loud, it won’t come true.”
“Doesn’t apply to Santa.” He winks, tapping the side of his nose with a finger.
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine…” I trail off, racking my brain for something to say. Anything. I was being honest when I said there’s nothing I want. I’m lucky enough to be able to afford to buy myself almost whatever I want throughout the year.
As if reading my mind, he says, “Something money can’t buy. Go on. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. I know it. Just say it.”
Who is this guy? Several seconds pass with us staring at each other. Before I know it, I’m blurting, “I want something of my own. Something that’s just…mine.” My gaze drops from his and I shake my head as heat floods my cheeks.
“Something that’s just yours?” he asks softly.
I press my lips together. I can feel the words building in my throat, tingling along my tongue, wanting to be said. “My job is really the only thing that’s mine. My day job,” I add and he nods. “And I’ve been bored stiff by it lately. My apartment isn’t mine anymore. Even my best friend isn’t mine anymore. I know that’s selfish and probably petty even though I’m happy for her. I just want…I guess I want what she has. Someone who, at the end of the day, ismine. Who will put me first. Take me into consideration with everything they do. Love me unconditionally.” I pause for a breath and raise my head to see he’s watching me with solemn, almost curious eyes. “Aren’t you glad you asked?”
“I am, yes.” His gaze holds mine for a moment before shifting over my shoulder. He sighs and checks his watch. I peer in the direction he was looking to see an elf pointing at his wrist and motioning toward Santa’s House. “I’m sorry,” he says. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but he really does sound regretful. “Duty calls. I sincerely hope you get your Christmas wish, Ivy.”
And with that, he’s gone, and I’m left feeling even more conflicted—not to mention embarrassed—than I was before.
