CHAPTER ELEVEN
I can’t get Hugh off my mind.
Since our dinner together on Sunday night, we haven’t seen much of each other except in passing at work. I agreed to the Monday night elves-visit-Santa ritual, which was kind of strange since twenty-four hours earlier we’d been on a quasi-date. Hugh had agreed to my suggestion of Greek, so we went to my favorite place, The Oasis, where we spent nearly two hours eating a leisurely meal with more courses than I could count.
He drove me back home afterward and walked me to my door yet again. Since I was sober this time—well, unless you count the two glasses of wine I had with dinner—I’d hoped he might kiss me or I’d pluck up the courage to initiate a kiss myself. We shared a lingering hug instead, and his lips had brushed my cheek as he pulled away. It was then I realized this whole ‘seeing where things might lead between us’ might be more difficult than I’d initially thought.
It’s now Friday, and it’s been the Monday-est Friday in history. Something happened to my alarm this morning, so I overslept. When I finally got myself together and made it to my car, the Check Engine light wouldn’t stop flashing. Since I had to pass the garage where I get all my maintenance done, I stopped in and had my go-to mechanic check it out. Billy told me I should leave the car and come back after work. I’d been tempted to return home and call in sick, but the receptionist at the garage was on her way out for coffee and offered me a ride to work.
After a series of annoying work-related mishaps throughout the day, I left early so I’d have time to pick up my car, go home, and get to Santa’s Village for my last shift of the week. Except, in keeping with my day from hell, Billy has just informed me my car is going to need some work and I have to pick it up tomorrow.
Which leads me back to my college days of traveling by city bus. I’d take a cab home, but it’s going to be rush hour soon and I’ll likely have to call a taxi to take me to Santa’s Village. It seems easier to save myself the time now and hop on a bus outside the garage.
Luckily, the bus isn’t too busy when I climb on board. I find a seat, pushing aside a booklet someone left behind. After a minute, I pick it up and flip through it—it’s a brochure for Loyola College, on the outskirts of Bellevue. I earmark a few courses I think Celia might be interested in, then stuff it in my purse.
The bus is about halfway to my apartment when it stops to let on a group of fifteen or so kids accompanied by three adults. From the moment the bus door opens, the air is filled with their excited chatter, paired with ear-piercing shrieks and giggles. A handful of them get on and rush to the back, the bus rocking with their momentum. One of the adults is next, and as she pays their fare, the rest of the kids surge past her, bumping into other passengers and banging on the poles between seats as they pass.
The teacher who’s still feeding change into the fare box yells, “Remember, children! We’re in public! Make good decisions!”
I blink and shake my head to myself. Make good decisions? Seriously? Because hollering at a bunch of noisy kids on a public bus is a good decision? The seats at the back must be full because a boy flops down next to me, his feet sticking out in the aisle and his backpack bumping my arm. I inch closer to the window and he takes that as an invitation to crowd me more.
Why me? I’m mostly used to kids now after working at Santa’s Village the last few weeks, but being stuck in close quarters with them while they’re making this much noise is different.Especiallyafter the day I’ve had. My nerves are already frayed and a headache is beginning to build at the base of my skull.
Some of the kids had started singing something when they reached the back of the bus, and the others quickly joined in, getting louder by the second. They finally manage to get in unison and I realize they’re singing—if you can call it singing—“Santa Claus is Coming to Town”. The song instantly makes me think of Hugh. I keep his moss-colored eyes and sexy stubbled face in my mind’s eye, holding on to his image while trying to tune out the kids’ screeching.
I keep waiting for one of the chaperones to shush them, but no such luck. The other passengers on the bus are shooting daggers at the teachers, who all seem oblivious. The kids reach the final verse of the song and instead of starting a new one, they launch right back into “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”. A groan escapes me, not that anyone can hear it. I wrench open my purse and fish around for my headphones so I can listen to music on my phone. Of course they’re not where they always are, which means Celia probably went into my purse and took them. Again.
The voices grow louder until I’m in permanent cringe mode. The kid beside me shifts around and grabs the bar of the seat in front of us, bopping up and down and singing off key. I catch the eye of one of the teachers and look at her expectantly. She just smiles vacantly before looking away. She keeps taking swigs from a half-full water bottle clutched in her hand, making me wonder if it’s actually water or something stronger.
When they launch into the same song for the third time, my hand shoots up of its own volition and pulls the bell. I’m squished against the window, so I can’t see out the front to orient myself. My apartment can’t be far, and at this point I’d rather walk a hundred miles than listen to this racket for another moment. I stand and say ‘excuse me’ three times to the little boy beside me before one of the teachers reaches over and pulls him to his feet so I can get past. I bite my tongue, swallowing the snarky Celia-like comments I’m dying to make as I hurry to the back exit and scramble off the bus.
The sigh of relief that rushes out of me as the bus pulls away takes nearly all the air from my lungs. I suck in a few deep breaths and try to calm the raging irritation I’m feeling. I’ve definitely been spending too much time with Celia. Her grouchiness is rubbing off on me. I feel like I’m seconds away from donning a Grooge costume and chasing after little kids. The image makes a tired laugh spill from my lips as I start walking in the direction of my apartment.
It takes me about ten minutes to walk home. By the time I reach my front door, my headache has reduced to a dull roar, and that icky grumpy feeling has passed. Mostly. At least until I open the door and see Celia sprawled on the couch watching TV.
“Hey. What are you doing home?” I ask as I take off my coat.
Celia mutes the TV and shifts on the couch to look at me. “I wasn’t fired already if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It wasn’t.” Although, to be fair, I’m sure that’s what I would have thought if my brain had time to catch up with seeing her here. She doesn’t need to know that, though, especially since she’s using her patented snotty voice.
“I had a dentist appointment this afternoon, so I called in and told them I’d be coming in with you tonight,” she says.
“Okay, well we’ll be going in a taxi because my car’s in the shop.” I head for the kitchen and drop my purse on a stool. Remembering the college brochure I found on the bus, I take it out and lay it on the counter for Celia.
“What’s up with your car?” A loud crunching noise follows the question and I turn to see Celia munching on a carrot stick from a plate of raw veggies in front of her. I never see her during my dinner break at the Village, but then again I don’t see her that often, period. I wonder if she brings food with her and eats it on her break.
“I’m not sure. My mechanic listed off a few things and said he’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”
“Probably making up a bunch of fake problems so he can make some quick cash,” Celia says around a mouthful of food.
I roll my eyes. “Right, because I’m an idiot and would fall for that. I’ve known Billy for years. He wouldn’t do anything to my car unless it was necessary.” Without waiting for a reply, I head down the hall, calling over my shoulder, “I’m going to take a shower. Phone the cab company and ask them to send a car for five thirty.”
I’d give just about anything to have a long, luxurious bath right now. Unfortunately, I have to settle for a quick shower. And because I’m a complete masochist I make it a lukewarm one, telling myself it’ll invigorate me even as I start to shiver.
Five minutes later, I stand in front of my closet with a towel wrapped around me. I can’t decide whether to dress in jeans and a sweater and change into my elf costume at the Village, or suck it up and wear the elf costume now. I wouldn’t care so much if I were driving myself as usual. Curious about Celia’s plans, I make sure my towel is secure so I don’t give her an involuntary peep show—something I’m sure I’d never hear the end of—and step out into the hallway.
“Ce?” She doesn’t answer, so I venture a bit further down the hall. “Celia?”
