by Marie Landry
I’m about to thank her for all her help and say goodnight when she asks, “Did you meet the big guy today?”
“Santa?” I ask, and Meredith nods. “No, I didn’t have a chance. I ended up down that way before dinner, but it was swarming with kids, so I didn’t linger.”
“He won’t be busy now.” She pivots in the direction of Santa’s House, motioning for me to follow. “You should come meet him.”
Hesitation keeps my jingly elf shoes from moving with her. I’m eager to get home, have a quick soak in the tub, and go to bed before I start this whole new routine over again in the morning. Meredith has been so sweet and helpful, though, so I swallow my sigh, plaster a smile on my face, and follow her.
Santa’s House is at the far end of the Village. It seemed strange to me at first since some families come just to see him. Then my marketing brain kicked in and I realized it was a strategic maneuver: to get to Santa’s House, you have to go through the entire Village, past stores and restaurants, kiddie rides and games, plus the reindeer farm. When Celia first brought me here, I was surprised there was no entrance fee, but I quickly realized they make their money selling food, gifts, toys, and souvenirs.
Like everything else in the Village, Santa’s House is an elaborate setup. It’s not actually a house so much as an open scene of what looks like a homey, spacious living room with a gas-lit fireplace, shelves with books and toys lining the walls, and a large couch for Santa to sit on rather than the typical throne-like chair you see at malls. Meredith told me it was so kids can choose to sit on Santa’s lap or beside him, plus it works better for kids who want to go up in pairs or groups. After the resident photographer snaps some pictures, families troop to a room off Santa’s living room, where they’re given one free photo and can choose to buy packages, along with a variety of personalized items with their child’s picture. Meredith wasn’t kidding when she said this place runs like clockwork.
As we approach Santa’s House, I see a short lineup, not of children but of elves. They talk and laugh as they wait to see Santa, who’s currently occupied with a sexy redheaded elf perched on his lap.
“Ah, perfect! I forgot today is Monday,” Meredith says. I give her a strange look and she laughs. “Every Monday after the Village closes, elves can visit Santa. You can chat with him for a few minutes, tell him how your day went, ask for advice. Whatever you want.”
“Seriously?” I ask, my voice high with surprise. I watch as the redhead—who’s wearing her full elf uniform, minus the candy cane stockings, leaving her long, shapely legs bare—climbs off Santa’s lap and blows him a kiss as she walks away. Another elf, this one my height and appearing to be in her mid-thirties, takes her place, giving Santa’s beard a gentle tug.
I’ve heard of people having a Santa fetish. I always assumed it came down to repressed Daddy issues. Personally, I can’t see the appeal of an old man crammed into a red suit and sporting a fake white beard. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose. All I know is I don’t see myself sitting on Santa’s lap anytime soon.
The woman on Santa’s lap hops off and straightens her skirt. He says something to her and she beams before picking a wrapped gift from the wicker basket next to his couch. When I was down this way earlier, there was an elf at Santa’s side handing a wrapped present to each child. All of them are the same size and shape—flat and rectangular. “What are the gifts?” I ask Meredith.
“Books,” she says. “This week’s pick is super cute. It’s the adventures of an adorable little fox.”
“Each kid gets one?” I ask, and she nods. “That must cost a fortune.” I might not read children’s books, but as a bibliophile I spend a ton of time at the library and bookstore, so I’m familiar with the prices of all kinds of books.
Meredith eyes me with her head cocked to the side. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Before she can answer, the redhead bounces up to us, hooking her arm around Meredith’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “You ready to go? There’s a margarita at Connelly’s with my name on it.” She smiles at me and releases Meredith to hold out her hand. “You must be Ivy. Meredith told me you joined the team today. I’m Kasie.”
I shake her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too! You should come with us to Connelly’s for a drink.” She looks at Meredith, who nods emphatically.
“Connelly’s?” I ask.
“It’s an Irish pub about five minutes from here,” Meredith says. “A bunch of us go there a few nights a week. You really should come. It’d be great to hang out outside of Santa’s Village.”
My cautious optimism from earlier grows. “You may have a margarita with your name on it, but I have a bath and bed with mine on them. Can I take a rain check?”
“Of course,” Meredith says. To Kasie she adds, “Ivy works a day job before coming here.”
Kasie’s eyes widen. “Damn, girl. Go home to bed. I’m sure you’ll adjust soon enough, but make sure to get as much rest as you can in the meantime. First round will be on us when you do come out.”
We say our goodnights, agreeing to meet up for dinner tomorrow during our break. I watch the line of elves for another minute. Some of them take considerably longer than others, speaking in hushed tones while Santa nods along before imparting some sort of wisdom. Others are quick, causing Santa to laugh, the sound deep and merry. At those times, I have a feeling whatever the elves are saying is something they wouldn’t say if kids were present.
Shaking my head, I decide I’d better go find Celia. I’m about to turn away when I catch Santa’s gaze. Despite the distance, I can see his eyes are a beautiful mossy color, clear and bright. There’s a pull in my belly, like a fishhook catching just behind my navel and giving a tug.
“If it isn’t little Ivy Sima,” he calls. “Santa has been waiting for you.”
There are a few giggles from the assembled crowd as everyone turns to look at me. Heat creeps into my face, prickling my cheeks. They might as well shine a spotlight on me. Dismissing my nerves, I raise a hand in a wave. “Hey there, Santa.”
The elf who’s currently on his lap stands up and motions to Santa. “I’m sure the others won’t mind if you cut the line, seeing as you’re our newest team member. There’s a reason we’re all on the nice list.”
I laugh, moving to stuff my hands into my pockets before remembering this dress only has a pouch for candy canes. I should really talk to Bree about that. I clasp my hands in front of me instead, shifting my weight. “That’s, uh, nice of you, but…” My mind races, searching for an excuse.
I never visited Santa as a kid. A few years ago, Bridget and I were out of town doing some Christmas shopping, and she convinced me to get a picture taken with us sitting on Santa’s lap. We spent the rest of the trip laughing over the fact Santa smelled like peppermint schnapps—a good choice since most kids would probably mistake it for candy cane breath. Like many Christmas-related things, I only did it for Bridget. I don’t want to sit on this guy’s lap, though. All the other elves seem totally into it, but what if he’s some sort of perv who gets off on this? Like a weird two-way fetish with people who love Santa and a Santa who loves elves.
I’m saved from having to respond when all the elves suddenly start booing and hissing. I assume they’re jeering me until a flash of dark green catches my peripheral vision. I turn to see Celia walking toward me, still decked out in her Grooge costume. She gives an exaggerated growl and holds up her hands, which are covered in gloves that make her fingers appear long and sharp.
A few people laugh and one of the elves calls out, “Your cousin won’t come visit Santa.”
Celia scrutinizes my face. I wonder if my expression is pleading, because instead of selling me out or frog-marching me up there herself, she says, “Sorry, guys. Santa will have to decide some other time whether Ivy is on the naughty or nice list. We need to get going.”
I could kiss her. I know my hesitation is ridicul
ous and I’ll have to officially meet Santa at some point, but I don’t necessarily want an audience for it. Or to feel like I need to sit on the couch and chat with him while others are a few feet away. I meet Santa’s eyes and feel that weird pull in my belly again.
Oh god. Please don’t tell me my resistance is due to some latent Santa fetish that’s just waiting for the right opportunity to arise.
CHAPTER SIX
Up at seven. At work by nine. Off at five, and home ten minutes later. Start shift at Santa’s Village at six. Home by ten. In bed by eleven thirty. And repeat.
By Thursday, I’m definitely feeling the effects of my new routine. I know my body will eventually adjust, but in the meantime I have these super fun little episodes throughout the day where I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and my brain focused on what I’m doing.
When an email pops up from Bridget, I’m worried she’s caught me dozing at my desk and is going to tell me to get it together.
Dearest Miss Sima,
Your presence is requested for an hour at noon. I’ve cleared my schedule and threatened Michelle with bodily harm if she so much as thinks of adding anything to the docket until after one o’clock. Will you join David and me for a leisurely lunch at the diner? My treat. It’s long overdue.
See you at noon (because this was obviously a rhetorical question and I won’t take no for an answer).
~B xoxo
I glance down the hall toward Bridget’s office door. She’s sitting at her desk, straining to see me through the small window that overlooks the office. Her face cracks into a huge grin when our eyes meet, and my lips lift in response. I nod to her, and she does the same before shifting her attention back to her computer.
*****
Bridget and I settle into our favorite booth at the diner down the street from our office. We discovered this place six years ago when we became friends during our first week at Quest. The cafeteria in our building serves decent food and we pack lunches occasionally, but if we could get away with it, I think we’d both choose to eat here every day. David is stuck in a meeting that ran long, so he’ll be joining us when he can.
“How’s my favorite elf?” Bridget asks after the waitress takes our drink order.
“Tired.” I offer her a small smile, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “But good. I really shouldn’t complain. I know a lot of people can’t find a job and here I have two. With the extra money I’m making at the Village, I can pay off my car faster, plus the rest of my student loans. I might just be debt-free within the next year.”
“That’s a dream for a lot of people these days,” Bridget says. We often discuss how grateful we are to have stable careers that pay well. After Bridget’s dad died two years ago, her mom was set with his life insurance, until she had a heart attack and ended up needing a lot of care. The lease on Bridget’s apartment was coming up, and since she wasn’t overly fond of the place to begin with, she moved in with her mom to help with the finances and her recovery.
“I’d also like to be able to help people who are less fortunate,” I say. “Pretty soon the firefighters will be collecting toys for kids, and the food bank always needs donations.”
“Plus there’s the Christmas Sharing program where you can sponsor a family and make sure they have food for the holidays and gifts if they have kids,” Bridget says. “I’m going to be calling a staff meeting soon to see how the team feels about sponsoring five or six families. They can donate money or specific items.”
“I love that idea. Meredith was telling me the Village does all kinds of things for the community in December. Food drive, toy drive, monetary donations to various local organizations.”
Bridget sighs, propping her chin on her hand. “Now I want to work there even more.”
I chuckle. “You’d love it.”
“Are you loving it?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “I am. I wanted to kill Celia at first for volunteering me, but it’s a lot of fun. Which, of course, makes Celia super smug and more insufferable than usual.”
Bridget lets out a loud “Ha!” and shakes her head. “After months of bouncing from one job to another, I guess you should be glad she seems to have found her calling.”
“The Grooge,” we say together, dissolving into laughter.
“I hate that I haven’t had time to visit you there yet,” Bridget says. I don’t bother pointing out I’ve only been working a grand total of three days. “I want to see you in action and then stuff my face with food and ride the carousel and feed the reindeer. Do you think I’m too old for breakfast with Santa?”
Breakfast with Santa is something the Village does every Saturday morning. There are a few coveted reserved spots, including a handful of names that are chosen from a weekly drawing. The rest of the seats are first come first served. It’s held in a big dining room near Santa’s House, and families get to have an elaborate breakfast and hang out with Santa for an hour.
“Santa would probably love it,” I say.
Bridget laughs, likely picturing what I told her about all those elves taking a turn on Santa’s lap. “Have you met Santa yet?”
I shake my head. “I’ve managed to avoid him since that first night. There’ll be no sitting on Santa’s lap for me, thank you very much.”
A deep, accented voice behind me says, “Oh come on, Ivy, be a good sport. You don’t want a lump of coal in your stocking come Christmas morning.” David swoops down and plants a kiss on the top of my head, then rounds the table to Bridget’s side. They share a lingering kiss and a look so loving it makes my heart constrict. He sits beside her, casually slinging his arm around her chair, and she nestles closer to him.
For the millionth time in the last year, it strikes me what a beautiful couple they make. Bridget has been glowing since last December when David finally revealed he had feelings for her, but hadn’t acted on them because he was our boss. Bridget always tried to deny her crush on him, brushing it off by saying half the women in our office looked at David with heart eyes. I know her better than anyone, though, and it was obvious she was in love with him. Now, almost a year later, they’re so happy together. Their relationship isn’t perfect—they have ups and downs like any other couple—but they put effort into it. They’re committed to each other and to making things work.
I swallow a sigh of longing as I ponder how much I want that for myself. I try not to think about it too much because I’m afraid I’d dwell on the fact I’ll be thirty in a few months and I’ve been single for-freaking-ever. I don’t need someone to complete me or fulfill me, but that doesn’t stop me from getting lost in romantic fantasies about meeting the man of my dreams.
“Earth to Ivy,” Bridget says, leaning across the table and waving a hand near my face.
My eyes snap into focus. Bridget and David are watching me with amused smiles.
“Where’d you go?” Bridget asks.
“She was thinking about sitting on Santa’s lap after all,” David says, his lips twitching into a mischievous grin.
“That’s it,” I say, nodding as if I’m seriously contemplating what he said. “Thinking about paying him a visit after all, and wondering what I should request for Christmas.”
Too bad what I really want for Christmas is something not even Santa himself could deliver.
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.