Cozy Christmas Shorts

by Halliday, Gemma

"I never go to the mall. I'm a dude. Dudes hate malls." He clapped a hand to his heart. "And I would never steal anything from anyone, especially at Christmas time." He ran a finger under his eye. Another minute and he'd be whipping out a hanky.

  Someone yelled from the kitchen "Algae!"

  "Look, I gotta get back to work." He gave the bar two quick knuckle raps. "It's been charming. Hope you find what you're looking for." And he skittered back to the kitchen, trailing a nasty, little laugh.

  Maizy and I looked at each other. "Algae?" she said.

  I shrugged. "You gotta admit—it suits him."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Just in case Algae's brother had actually given him the El Camino, I decided not to call the police. Instead, I jotted down the license plate number before we headed off to the area hospitals. Checking the hospitals didn't take as long as I'd expected because Jack wasn't a registered patient in any of them. We were out of ideas by early afternoon. Since Maizy had left most of her North Pole food untouched, we stopped at The Lucky Wok for some take-out and were back at my apartment by two.

  "We never talked to the mall Santa Claus," Maizy reminded me as we trudged up the stairs.

  I nodded. "Algae distracted me. We'll have to go back. I think—" I stopped, staring over into Jack's backyard. "Oh, look at that."

  Maizy took a glance. "It's a deer. So what?"

  "I've never seen deer in this neighborhood." I watched it meander, alternately poking its nose through the snow and lifting its head to look around. "Doesn't it seem like he's looking for something?"

  Another deer emerged from the stand of trees at the property line and came to join the first. They put their heads together briefly, then both looked directly up at us. A shiver ran up my spine. Something felt way off here.

  "He was looking for his woman," Maizy said with a little smile.

  "They're both bucks."

  She shrugged. "It's a new world."

  I gave them a final lingering look, which they returned with unwavering black eyes, and we went inside to inhale the beef with broccoli and chicken in garlic sauce, along with a tub of wonton soup and lots of fortune cookies. We were just finishing up when someone knocked on the door. The way it was going, it was probably the bucks.

  I left Maizy to gather our empty containers while I opened the door to find one of Santa's elves on the landing. A middle-aged one, judging by the fine lines. Still, he was four feet of adorableness, with a fringe of blond curly hair sticking out from under a stocking cap and bright blue eyes. He was wearing red leggings and shoes with upturned toes and bells attached. His cheeks were pink from the cold. "Jamie Winters? I'm Pete Angelino. Jack's son." He had a firm handshake for such a little elf. "I'm looking for my father, and I was hoping you might have seen him recently."

  I couldn't stop staring.

  He sighed. "You think I'm a crackpot, don't you."

  "No, of course not." I shook my head without taking my eyes off the crackpot. "Why would I think that? Elves drop in all the time."

  His smile was as adorable as the rest of him. "I'm an actor with a touring company doing Night Before Christmas. Guess I should've changed first, but I was in a hurry."

  Something about him made me want to scoop him up in a giant hug. "So you really are Jack's son?"

  "Cross my heart," he said solemnly.

  I glanced at Jack's house. A third buck had assembled in the backyard. All three were standing at attention, watching us intently. Weird.

  "Would you like to come in?" I pushed the storm door open. "I have hot chocolate if you'd like some."

  "That'd be great, thanks."

  I made the introductions while he shucked his coat, trying not to stare when he pulled off the stocking cap. His ears were pointed. I'd only seen pointed ears on Spock. But I was seeing a lot of unusual things in the last two days. Probably they were fake ears, part of his costume for the play. That's what I was going with.

  He wrapped his plump little hands around a hot mug. "How did you injure yourself?"

  I blinked. "What?"

  "Your ankle."

  Maizy's eyes widened. So did mine. The intense aching had lessened throughout the day, and I'd thought I was walking normally again. "It's nothing," I told him. "I just slipped on the stairs outside." I hesitated. "How did you know?"

  "You're limping a little."

  I was pretty sure I wasn't, but there was no point in arguing it. We took our mugs of hot chocolate into the relative comfort of my living room, the bells on his shoes jingling when he walked. I glanced at Maizy. She was staring at him with utter fascination. I caught her eye and did a very slight head shake. She rolled her eyes and mouthed Duh.

  When we had all taken seats, he turned to me with a grave expression. "Do you remember the last time you saw my dad?"

  I tried to think. It was hard to concentrate under an elf interrogation. "It has to be over a week. He was putting ice melt on his front walk. I remember he was excited because we were expecting a white Christmas."

  Pete gave a small smile. "Dad loves to have snow on Christmas. He says it makes things so much easier." The smile faded. "He was supposed to be at our house on the twenty-first. But he never showed up."

  "It's only the twenty-third," I said. "Maybe he stopped to visit another relative first?"

  "Maybe." Doubt was clear in his voice. "He didn't mention anything about that, and no one's seen him. Although he does have an old buddy he likes to visit now and then. I think he lives somewhere in New York state. Rudy something or other." He shook his head. "I don't like the idea of Dad driving anymore. He's slowed down a little recently."

  I put my hot chocolate down on the coffee table. "Curt mentioned he's showing signs of dementia?"

  "Not officially," Pete said. "He refuses to go to the doctor. I don't understand it—he's usually so jolly and agreeable. It's not like him to be fearful." He pushed himself off the edge of the recliner and went over to the window overlooking his father's house.

  Maizy scooched closer to me on the sofa. "His dad is Santa Claus," she whispered.

  "That's not funny," I whispered back. "Jack is a sweet old man—"

  "Who thinks snow makes everything easier," she cut in. "Sure he does. He drives a sleigh!"

  "Last night he drove an El Camino, remember?"

  She shrugged. "Hard to drive a sleigh in July." She glanced at Pete, whose back was to us. "Think about it. He's jolly. He has a friend named Rudy. Rudy. That ring any bells? And let's face it, his kid's an elf."

  "That is really not nice," I snapped in a definite non-whisper.

  Pete turned around, "Sorry?"

  I stood up. "I'm sorry I haven't seen your father. Honestly, I've been looking for him myself."

  "With my help," Maizy added. "We're a team."

  Pete's gaze flicked to Maizy. "You're a good girl to concern yourself with the welfare of others."

  She did an embarrassed little toe-kick at the carpet. "Well, I'm on Christmas break."

  "And you decorate a tree beautifully," he added.

  "How did you—" She caught herself, but she was clearly a little freaked out.

  So was I. "How did you know Maizy decorated the tree?"

  He shrugged. "Lucky guess. She's full of good cheer." He fixed his gaze on me. "You, not so much."

  A surge of something like embarrassment, strangely near to guilt, tried to wash over me. It was blocked by the shock. "The holidays make me kind of melancholy. But how could you possibly know that?"

  "He's an elf," Maizy said.

  "Yes. I'm an elf." He studied Maizy in silence for a few seconds before turning back to the window. "How long have they been down there?"

  I moved closer to him. The bucks were still standing side by side, facing Curt's house, their coats gleaming. "They just showed up today. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

  "They look like giant dogs waiting for bones," he murmured. "But of course, dogs don't have antlers, do they." He turned away from the view. "I won't take a
ny more of your time," he said abruptly. "I've got to get back to the theater. Thank you for talking with me and for trying to find Dad."

  Something zinged in my memory. "Please let me know if—when you find him," I said. "I care a lot about Jack."

  "I know you do." He shook my hand and looked again at Maizy. "I have a feeling Santa is going to be very kind to you this year, young lady."

  "I hope you find him," she told him in a grave tone.

  His expression grew more worried. "I have to. He has to be someplace very important tomorrow night."

  "I know," Maizy said soberly. "It's Christmas Eve."

  It came to me as soon as I shut the door behind him. I hurried back to the living room. And I was sure I wasn't limping. "Giant dogs!"

  Maizy had switched on the television to an episode of The Brady Bunch. The one where Greg and Marsha have an ultra slow motion driving competition. She looked up. "Huh?"

  "Pete said the bucks look like giant dogs with antlers. The guy at the North Pole said two giant dogs were outside watching Santa through the window." I gnawed on my lip, remembering. "I think he called them Thunder and Lightning."

  "Not very Christmasy," Maizy said. "What's wrong with Cupid and Comet and Masher and—"

  "There's no reindeer named Masher," I told her.

  "I think you're wrong." She whipped out her cell phone. After a minute or two, she said, "Huh. Thunder and Lightning, you said?" She smiled. "Do the names Donder and Blitzen mean anything to you?"

  "Of course," I said. "But there's still no Masher."

  She held up her phone. I squinted at the tiny printing. It managed to get even smaller. I sighed. "What does it say?"

  She frowned. "It says Donder and Blitzen were bar-hopping with Santa Claus. Their names come from the Germanic thunder and lightning."

  My mouth fell open. "What does that mean?"

  "Beats me. I'm a kid, not a linguist."

  "Get your coat, kid," I told her, picking up the empty mugs. "We've got unfinished business at the North Pole."

  "Great!" She switched off the TV and jumped up. "Can I drive?"

  CHAPTER NINE

  Curt's Jeep was parked at the curb, so I left Maizy to snap a photo of the bucks with her cell phone while I knocked on his back door. He opened it wearing standard male snow hunk attire—faded blue jeans, hiking boots, and a black Under Armour shirt that molded to his body like hot wax and made me forget why I was there.

  He looked over my shoulder. "Hey, Jame. Been keeping the kid busy?"

  I snapped out of my lust-induced haze. "I like her. She's a smart girl."

  "She's an alien."

  That's what I thought. "What'd you get her for Christmas?" I asked.

  He frowned at me. "I got her a sweater. One that covers her stomach."

  Oh, boy. "You might want to rethink that," I told him. "Leave that sort of thing to her parents. Get her something fun."

  "Like what? A car?" He snorted.

  "Give it some thought," I said. "You might know her better than you think you do."

  "Yeah. Maybe." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "So what broke?"

  "Huh?"

  "Two times I know you're gonna knock on my door. One is when something breaks. Another is when you're hungry." His eyes narrowed. "Are you hungry?"

  I shook my head. "I need a favor." I found the piece of paper with Algae's license plate number on it. "Can you get me an address?"

  He took it from me. "Why?"

  "Long story." I heard Maizy come up behind me. "But it's important," I added.

  He nodded at her. "Maizy."

  She blew some blue hair out of her eyes. "Uncle Curt."

  "Why don't you give each other a hug?" I suggested. They both looked at me like my head had burst into flames. I waved it away. "Forget it. Now's not the time. So can you call Cam for me?"

  "Why not. Time for a progress report on Maizy anyway." He showed us a dimple. "You two staying out of trouble?"

  "We're going shopping," I said.

  "We're looking for Santa Claus," Maizy said at the same time.

  His jaw tightened. "You don't like shopping," he told me. "And you don't believe in Santa Claus," he told Maizy.

  "That doesn't mean he isn't real," she said. "There are lots of things that exist beyond the veil."

  "Beyond the veil," he repeated.

  She nodded. "The metaphysical universe. Open your mind, Uncle Curt."

  "Fine." He shook the paper at me. "You go find Santa Claus. You think he's at the mall, do you?"

  "No, we think he's at—" Maizy began.

  I gave her a push to shut her up. "It's a good place to start," I said brightly.

  * * *

  "Why didn't you want to tell Uncle Curt about the North Pole?" Maizy asked when we were in the car. I was back in the passenger seat and much more comfortable this time, since I'd seen what she could do behind the wheel. She was Jimmie Johnson to my Jed Clampett.

  "Are you kidding?" I asked. "You want to tell him I'm taking you to a bar at your age?"

  "Yeah, he is a straight line kind of guy, isn't he." She handed over her cell phone. "Is this good enough?"

  Her photo of the bucks was clear and centered and shot from surprisingly close range. "Did you go into Jack's yard to take this?"

  She shrugged. "They didn't seem to mind, and I figured closer was better."

  We drove through a few green lights and stopped at a few red, and then we were on the straight shot to the North Pole.

  "Can I ask you something?" I said. "What you said to—about Pete, and Jack, and…Santa. Do you really believe it?"

  She glanced at me. "When the universe aligns, I go with it."

  Right. "Is the universe aligning?"

  "Do you think it's aligning?"

  I rolled my eyes. "You'd be a great lawyer."

  "I know what I think," she said. "But you don't need to know that. You need to know what you think."

  I didn't know what I thought. Or maybe I did, but I didn't want to admit it. We had an awful lot of coincidences on our hands. We had three reindeer and a mind-reading elf whose missing father looked like Santa Claus and had somewhere important to be on Christmas Eve, and that missing father had a toy workshop in his basement and was gone during the holidays every year, not to mention a little green man named Algae who may or may not have stolen a car driven by someone who may or may not be Santa Claus.

  I blew out a long breath. What I lacked in holiday spirit, I made up for in skepticism. But even I had to admit that one thing was becoming crystal clear. "What I think," I said slowly, "is that my neighbor Jack is Santa Claus."

  "There." She beamed at me. "Was that so hard? You old people with your rigid linear thinking. See what happens when you let go and just have a little faith?"

  I nodded. "You get put on Prozac."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Not much had changed at the North Pole. An old man or two had gone away, replaced by another old man or two. A young whippersnapper of seventy-five was talking himself through a solo game of pool. The one who'd seen the dogs at the window was still at the bar nursing a draft beer, and not the same one, judging by his cloudy eyes. But maybe that was the cataracts.

  I held the photo of the bucks close to his face. "Do these look familiar?"

  It took a second, but gradually he managed to focus, more or less. "Hey, haven't I seen you someplace before?"

  "Four hours ago," I said. "Look at the picture. Have you seen them before? Maybe at the front window?"

  He pulled his gaze from the phone to my face. "Hey, you're kinda cute. Wanna come see my baseball card collection?"

  Oh, good grief. He was not hitting on me.

  Maizy tapped me on the back. "Jamie."

  "I really could use your help," I told the old guy. "Can you please just take a look?"

  "Jamie."

  He squinted at the phone. "Isn't that cute. You dressed your dogs up for Christmas." And he hiccupped.

  "Jamie, look." Ma
izy spun me around hard toward the window, and I sucked in a sharp breath. The three bucks were standing in a row, looking in at us. Then they shifted a little and a fourth came into view, identical in size to the first three, right down to the impressive attention span.

  Every hair on my body was standing up. "They can't be the same ones," I said. "Can they?"

  Maizy took her phone from me and held it up to compare the photo with the real thing. "I think they can. See the white spot on this one's snout? And the scar on that one's chest?" She looked at me, bug-eyed. "They must be trying to tell us something."

  I touched the old geezer's shoulder. "Sir, can you turn around?" Nothing. I shook him gently. "Sir?"

  "Don't waste your time." The bartender appeared to whisk away the empty mug and wipe the bar. "He's sleeping it off."

  I frowned. "Here, at the bar?"

  The bartender shrugged. "If you ever met his wife, you'd understand why here at the bar."

  Something came to me. "Is Algae still here?"

  "Who?"

  "Skinny guy, bad posture, green skin?"

  "Green skin?" The bartender stared at me. "You're flagged, lady."

  "He works in the kitchen," Maizy told him. "I think he cleans up or something."

  The bartender shook his head. "Nobody named Algae works here."

  Now the hairs on my body were not only standing, they were tingling. "That can't be right," I said. "He served us a burger."

  "If you had a burger," he said, "it wasn't served by no little green man. Dino works the kitchen."

  "But I saw two people in the kitchen," I said. "A big guy was cooking, and a skinny guy was sweeping."

  "And serving burgers," Maizy said. "It wasn't very good," she added. "Tasted a little like dirt. No offense."

  He shrugged. "None taken. Dino ain't a very good cook." He sighed. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. Dino's here 'cause no one else'll take him. He ain't supposed to do it, but sometimes he brings a buddy in to help him out on busy nights. Long as he pays them out of his own pocket, I don't say nothing about it. Maybe that's your little green man. Can't say for sure. That help?"