by Annie Harper
“You made it!”
“So sorry,” Avery rushes to say. “I got called into work, and it took me longer to get out than I expected. I should have called. I suck; I’m sorry.”
Grace tilts her head and frowns. “You don’t suck. It’s fine. Things happen.” She glances down and tilts her head the other way. “Great sweater.”
She’s still wearing her blinking Christmas tree work uniform, including the matching pointy hat, which she snatches off her head. She forgot all about it. “It’s for work— Santa. At the mall. Not really— Fake Santa, I mean. Obviously,” Avery blathers.
“Well, I love it.” Grace pushes the door wider and steps back so Avery can enter. “I love Christmas, as you can probably tell.”
The house is cozy, with a fire crackling in a brick fireplace. It smells like evergreen and cinnamon; holiday decorations fill every wall and corner and nook. The little house is crammed so full of holiday cheer that it’s impossible to take it all in. To top it off, four large dogs sit patiently in front of a picture-perfect Christmas tree as if posed for a holiday card.
Grace says with a laugh, “You look terrified.”
“Um,” Avery hedges. The dogs are wearing candy-cane-striped bow ties. A miniature train comes chugging across train tracks hung from the ceiling. “Coming from someone who’s wearing a light-up Christmas sweater and works for Santa Claus: Yeah, it’s a lot.”
And Grace doesn’t say, “You’re such a wet blanket, Avery,” or, “Why don’t you ever like anything, Avery,” the way Mary Anne did—and everyone she dated before Mary Anne. Grace, with her boundless, determined positive energy, beams at Avery. “See? This is what I need in my life. Someone sensible.” She turns to Avery and lightly grips her elbow, which sends a thrill up Avery’s arm. “You’re such a mellow, calm spirit. That’s why Rudy responds so well to you. Speaking of.” Grace releases Avery’s elbow and snaps her fingers— the dogs come right over.
The dogs. The reason Avery is here. “This is Ethel, Ricky, Fred, and Lucy.”
Avery sort of… waves, unsure of what else to do. The dogs once again sit patiently, after a hand signal from Grace. “Hey,” Avery says. “I like your names.”
“They’re very well trained, so I promise they won’t jump up on you or sniff you in any unwanted places—” Grace sends Avery a cute wink that’s likely supposed to help her relax, but most definitely does not. “You’re doing so great with Rudy, trying so hard. But I can tell you aren’t totally comfortable and I do want you to be comfortable.”
“Comfortable…” Avery mumbles. At the moment, being comfortable with Grace is impossible, with her hopeless crush growing more intense by the minute.
“Are you hungry?” Grace asks, then adds without waiting for answer, “I have cheese and crackers and wine. If you want to sit, I’ll be right back.”
Avery sits on the couch while the dogs hang out nearby, curious but not bothering her. They all look to be mixed breeds: one with short brown hair and one with shaggy brown hair, one all white and another black but for a single white paw; Avery reaches toward the black one, and he gently sets his head beneath her palm.
“That’s Freddy. Throw a ball for him and you’ve got a friend for life.” Grace sets a tray on the coffee table and sits next to Avery. None of the dogs give the food a single glance.
“Four dogs,” Avery says, stating the obvious. She stuffs a cracker and a cube of cheese in her mouth.
“Mmm,” Grace covers her mouth as she chews. “I’d adopt more, but five would probably be the start of a hoarding problem for me.” She takes a sip of wine, then leans back, draping her arm across the back of the couch behind Avery’s shoulders. “I do have a cat, too. A huge Persian named Petunia who bosses the dogs around. You won’t see her though; she likes to keep to herself.”
Avery nods, considering that perhaps she could join Petunia in whatever dark corner the cat is hiding in. Conversation, Avery. She can do this. “Have you always—” Avery starts, trying not to choke on her cracker when Grace tucks her leg up on the cushions and leans closer. Avery stares at the crook of Grace’s bent knee, trying to remember what she was asking. “Um. How did you get into animal rescue?”
Grace sips more wine; her lips against the glass are damp. “I grew up as a military kid. We were always moving, so it was hard to make friends. But that was okay because we always had the animals with us. I wasn’t lonely or sad because of them. I guess, in a way, I was just trying to return the favor, and then I realized it had become a calling, like I know that’s what I was put on Earth to do.”
“That’s— Wow,” Avery says. “I wish I was passionate about something like that.”
There’s no mistaking the glance Grace casts at Avery’s mouth. It lingers there, then comes up to hold Avery’s eyes. “It’s not too late.”
Avery does choke then, a bit, and, needing several gulps of wine to move the stuck clump of cracker down her throat, finishes off the large glass. One of the dogs, the brown one with short hair, saunters over to investigate. Once she can breathe normally again, Avery gives her head a pat.
“Ethel is a caretaker. She doesn’t leave my side if I’m sick.” Grace calls the dog over; she rubs her face and ears as Ethel’s tail wags. Avery wishes she had that kind of companionship, that kind of loyal, true love. As if she’s unthawing with the help of the wine, Avery’s awkwardness and self-doubt melt away. She can see herself having that kind of love, not settling for close enough, but finding something real. Finishing a second glass of wine, Avery finds that somewhere along the way she has ended up tucked tightly beneath Grace’s arm. It’s nice: her and Grace hanging out on this cozy couch, drinking wine, eating cheese. Suddenly she recognizes the couch, pats it, and smiles. “I had this very couch.”
“Oh? What happened to it?” Grace says. “Don’t tell me it fell apart. I can’t afford a new one right now.”
“Mm-mmm.” Avery shifts even closer, drawn into the heat of Grace’s body. “My ex took it when she moved it. Just—” Avery makes a swiping motion with her non-wine-glass hand. “Took it, even though we bought it together.” Grace moves her arm away and into her own lap.
“Moved out? So you were living together?”
“Yep. And it’s been a few weeks now. I guess I should get a new couch.”
“A few weeks?” Grace moves away fully, making Avery tip to the side before she catches her balance. “So that’s pretty major.”
“Not really.” Avery pushes herself up. Somehow things have gotten weird between them. She tries to fix it, clarifying, “We weren’t that serious.”
At that, Grace crosses her arms over her chest; her expression goes stony. Avery can tell, even from their brief time spent together, that expression means Grace is closing off to the conversation. “You weren’t serious with someone you lived with?”
“Um.” Avery picks at the couch cushion, unsure how to explain without making it sound even worse. “Yes?”
“Right.” Grace says, short with her now. “Let’s just take the dogs outside to run through some exercises. It’s getting late, you should probably go soon.”
Chapter Eleven
“Ma’am? Excuse me?”
Avery blinks back into awareness, unsure how long she’d been zoned out while slumped over the cash register stand. “What?”
“I said,” The woman juggling a squirmy toddler and fussing infant says tersely. “Are the photo packages really worth the price?”
It’s Christmas Eve eve. She hasn’t seen or spoken to Grace since their not-date that could have turned into a date-date until it went terribly wrong. Avery can no longer muster the energy to care about photo packages.
“Not really,” she says flatly; her attention drifts and vision goes unfocused. “Just jump in and take a picture with your phone for free. What are they gonna do, put you in mall jail?”
“What?
” The woman sputters as her baby begins to cry in earnest.
From behind her Tracie says, “Why don’t you take a quick break, Avery?”
Avery shrugs. Fine. The baby was giving her a headache anyway. She wanders past the Orange Julius, the pretzel stand, and the massage chairs and keeps on moving. She isn’t in the mood. She just wants this pointless holiday to be over.
“What’s up with you?” Tracie finds Avery slumped over the breakroom table.
“Nothing,” Avery says. “The world is garbage.” Her words are garbled into the hard surface of the table. “The usual.”
“Does this have anything to do with that girl you’re always talking about? Grace?”
Avery lifts her head, scowling. Always talking about? She does not. “I don’t always talk about her.”
Tracie’s mouth curls, and she crosses her arms. “Oh, you do so. ‘Grace says most dogs’ bad behavior is caused by people.’ ‘Grace wears cargo pants because she has seven different types of dog treats on her at all times.’ ‘Grace loves Christmas.’ ‘Grace loves dogs.’ ‘Oh my gosh, Grace said the funniest thing.’ ‘Grace—’” Tracie’s arms drop, and her face seems sympathetic. Avery’s expression must show exactly how shaken she is. Oh no, she’s got it so bad. It’s not just a hopeless crush, she’s totally head over heels in love with Grace. That makes everything so much worse.
“You didn’t even realize, did you?” Tracie asks.
“I— It’s not— I can’t—” Avery tries, then deflates and drops face down onto the table again. “We’re just in different places right now. It’s fine.”
“Oh, Avery.” The bells on Tracie’s sweater jingle merrily as she walks over to Avery and places a kind hand on her back. “It’s okay to care.”
Avery shakes her head against the table; it smashes her nose sideways. “It’s not just Grace. They’re gonna close the shelter, and all those dogs won’t have anywhere to go, and Rudy is still nuts but he’s trying. I tried so hard, and it’s just like, what was even the point?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes trying is the point.”
Avery frowns into the table and contemplates this. “Well, that is terrible.”
“Yeah,” Tracie says with a soft laugh. “I suppose it is. Too bad Santa can’t just find them homes, huh? That’d be convenient.”
Avery sits up so fast that Tracie jumps back.
“Wait, why can’t he?”
Tracie glances around. “I know we work really hard to make all of this seem real, but you know that’s not actually Santa, right?”
Avery flaps her hand at Tracie. “Yes, yes. I mean, an event with Santa for dogs. People take pictures with him like with their kids, but they bring their dogs instead. That’s a thing, right? But a portion can go to the shelter. Oh!” Avery stands, knocking her chair backward in her excitement. “And we do an adopt-a-thon. The shelter does these pop-up ones. We could totally do it on short notice. A ‘Home for The Holidays’ kind of thing, right? People love to do charitable stuff on Christmas, right?”
Tracie hesitates; her eyes scan Avery’s face. Avery presses her hands flat together, tucks them under her chin, and gives Tracie her best pleading smile. If things are hopeless with Grace, at least she can give Rudy, the other dogs, and the shelter a fair shot at some hope.
Tracie relents, tentatively warning, “I’ll have to talk to a few people—”
Shocking them both, Avery cuts Tracie off with an enthusiastic hug. She is not dead inside. She is not.
It takes a lot of fast-talking and finagling, of quickly working out logistics and the possible promise of someone’s firstborn, but the “Pet Photos with Santa and Halfway Home Adopt-a-Thon Extravaganza” is a go on Christmas Eve. Dog crates stack up behind Santa’s Village, volunteers mingle with customers, pampered pets and shelter dogs take turns getting photos with Santa. It’s happening. They’re really pulling it off.
And then there’s Grace, arriving at the mall to coordinate volunteers and wrangle dogs. Avery swallows her disappointment and sets aside her feelings.
“I guess a mall isn’t the ideal venue,” Avery apologizes when Grace has to yank a dog away from passing shoppers who are uninterested in the event. If Christmas Eve isn’t crazy enough, some people hate the mall on not-crazy days.
“Are you kidding?” Grace says. “Santa Claus, soft pretzels, and massage chairs? I love the mall.”
“I think we’re soulmates,” Avery mumbles, just as the shepherd mix Grace is wrangling lets out an exited bark.
“What?”
“What?” So much for setting her feelings aside. “I said, uh. Great turnout!”
“Oh, yeah. This was such a great idea, Avery.” She smiles her huge smile that turns Avery to goo. There’s no time for all that. More dogs need to see Santa, and Avery needs to get back to taking donations and ringing up pictures.
Not only is the turnout great for pet photos with Santa, but people are also extra-generous on the day before Christmas, or else just desperate for a not-awful last-minute gift. They’re stuffing the donation jars with bills and checks and picking dogs for adoption at a fast clip. They just may save the shelter and get every single dog chosen in time for Christmas morning.
“Someone wanted to say hi you.” It’s Grace again, approaching the cashier stand where Avery has been completely focused on staying calm in the chaos.
“Pepper!” Avery crouches to wrap her arms around Pepper and press her cheeks against Pepper’s silky-soft neck. “How’s my good girl?” Avery hopes the day hasn’t been too tiring for the old girl.
“Great news,” Grace says as Avery stands back up. “Pepper found a home.” Grace indicates an older couple standing just to the side. They wave, and Grace calls them over.
“Oh that is… Wow. That is great.” Avery reaches down to pat Pepper’s head. “You’re going home, Pepper!” For some weird reason, Avery’s voice is strained, and her eyes water. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m—” Avery swipes at her eyes and sniffs. Pepper is going home, which is amazing. And that also means that Avery will never see her again. Avery gives Pepper one last pat, crouches, and tells her she’s such a good girl and that now she gets to have a soft bed again.
And then she’s gone.
“I see a lot of really awful things happen to dogs,” Grace says, kindly allowing Avery to compose herself. “You’d think that would be the hardest part, but it’s not. This is. You know they’re going to a good home; it’s exactly what you’ve been working for. But it breaks your heart.” She hugs Avery, a solid, strong embrace that she soaks up like parched earth. When Grace pulls back, her eyes scan Avery’s face, and she presses her lips flat, then takes a deep, steadying breath. “Avery. About the other night—” Suddenly, a familiar frantic, high-pitched bark rings out. Grace laughs, looks away and drops whatever she was about to say. “It sounds like it’s Rudy’s turn to sit with Santa.”
Chapter Twelve
It happens so fast. Avery has only turned halfway around after setting a very nervous Rudy on Santa’s lap for a lightning-fast picture when there’s a yelp—then a gasp and a shout and a scuffle. Avery turns back to see blood and snarling sharp teeth. Someone yanks Rudy away, and someone else gives Santa a paper towel, and Avery rushes to follow him to the breakroom workshop, apologizing in a frantic stream of babbling. “He’s just so afraid of everything. Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. He’s not a monster, really. Or a demon. Even though he kinda looks like one? He’s just afraid and he lashes out. I am so sorry.”
“Avery.” Santa uses his non-bloody hand—oh, god— to pat her shoulder. “It’s okay. Barely a scratch, really.”
“You’re bleeding,” Avery points out, still panicked. “He bit you!”
“It’s not the first time. Occupational hazard.” Santa ho ho ho’s.
“But—”
Santa gives her shoulder
a steadying squeeze. “There’s a first aid kit next to the cubbies. Why don’t you help me clean up and put a bandage on?”
Avery nods and goes silent. She finds the first aid kit and latex gloves, cleans Santa’s hand with an alcohol wipe, dabs on antibiotic ointment, and carefully secures a wad of gauze to the puncture wound right below Santa’s thumb. There’s a knock on the door as Avery is putting the items back in the metal case; her hands shaking just a little less. Grace appears in the doorway.
“Just wanted to let you know we’re all packed up and heading back. Every dog was adopted, except for…” Grace pauses, then smiles sadly, and that’s enough to tell Avery exactly who didn’t get a home; his teeth marks are in Santa’s left hand. “We raised easily three times what we usually do at an adoption event.”
“Was it enough?” Avery asks. “Did we save the shelter?” Grace’s face once again says all Avery needs to know. “Of course it wasn’t.”
Grace steps closer. “Avery…”
She doesn’t want comfort or platitudes. She doesn’t want to hear that they tried their best and that’s all that matters, because it’s not true. Trying won’t save the shelter. Trying won’t save Rudy. “What will happen to him?”
Grace presses her lips flat, and casts her gaze away from Avery. “I will try to do everything in my power to help him.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I don’t like the situation any more than you do, Avery.” Grace replies. “I’m not in charge of these decisions. I have to follow protocol.”
Avery’s jaw tightens “Which is?”
Grace sighs. Her expression is stony, but her eyes are sad. “Sometimes aggressive dogs have to be put down.” She glances to Santa and back. “Especially if they’ve bitten someone.”
Avery’s stomach lurches; she turns away. “Okay.”