"She didn't say any such thing!"
"She certainly did," Buttercup replied. "Your parents are both so proud of you, Tabitha."
I guess I knew that part.
"Why do we have to go home?"
"To check on things," Petunia said. "Crack the whip, so to speak."
"No one there needs a whip cracked over his head!"
"Santa has to oversee operations," Buttercup explained. "There will be some little thing wrong that only you'll see. Something inconsequential, but if you let it go, it will grow out of control."
"And the kids in the back yard are getting fat," Petunia said. "You haven't taken them for a proper ride in months." She was talking about the reindeer.
"You need to review the sleigh line up," Buttercup said. "And make sure any reindeer who will be pulling the sleigh are undergoing a good training regiment."
"It takes months of training to be ready for Christmas Eve," Petunia added. "You know that. I know you know that."
I did. "What about our clients here?"
"Already handled," Petunia replied. "We cleared your schedule for the next two weeks."
"We think you should hire a human assistant," Buttercup added. "Someone to handle your schedule."
"Someone who reports to us," Petunia pointed out. "You shouldn't need to worry about the little details."
"That's our job," Buttercup added.
"You're going to need to stay home from the end of September until the end of January," Petunia explained. "From now until then, you need to go back every few weeks."
"Your dad tried to keep a human lifestyle for the first couple of dozen years," Buttercup said. "He was a pretty good plumber."
"Dad was a plumber?" I hadn't known that. "Why didn't I know?"
"He doesn't talk much about LBS."
"LBS?"
"Life Before Santa."
"We were so lucky he became Santa," Petunia said. "Can you imagine home before your dad installed modern plumbing?"
I laughed. "Honey pots?"
"Yep."
I thought about it. "How did Dad become Santa?" While it seemed I was inheriting the position, whenever Dad mentioned my grandparents, which wasn't often, it wasn't necessarily with fondness. Grandpa hadn't been Santa."
"Santa can choose someone to pass the magic to," Buttercup said. "And the previous Santa passed it to your dad."
"He was kind of crotchety," Petunia said. "Said he was tired of Christmas. He retired to Suffolk and took up gardening."
"He died a few years later. When was that, Petunia?"
"1937," Petunia replied. "He's buried in an unassuming grave beside the parish church."
"You should talk to your dad about this, Tabitha," Buttercup suggested. "You can do that when we go home."
"Your folks will be happy to see you," Petunia said. "I bet your mom cooks a fabulous meal."
I smiled. My mom could make grilled cheese sandwiches fabulous. She used two kinds of cheese, but I think it was something she added to the butter that was the trick.
"We're coming back?" I asked.
"If you want," Buttercup said. "Will you let us hire a human as your assistant when we get back?"
"All right," I replied. I smiled. "Do we need one more shopping trip before we go?"
"Of course!" Petunia said.
"Petunia is going to show me her favorite stores," Buttercup replied.
I arched an eyebrow. "Branching out from electronics?"
"I think I need a raise," she replied instantly.
I laughed. I'd been splitting our commission checks evenly between the three of us. They were earning their shares.
So we went shopping. They both looked fabulous in their new dresses and began bugging me to throw a party when we got home.
* * * *
I tried to stay in denial about the magic, but it was growing harder and harder. Dad, now back properly on two feet, took me on a tour of the factory, and I saw three problems no one else had noticed. When I pointed it out to Dad, he smiled and said, "It's a good thing you're here." He insisted he hadn't noticed.
I didn't know how they did it, but Buttercup and Petunia both brought suitcases stuffed to the gills with the things they had been buying, and they gave everything away to the other elves. Buttercup even gave Mom a brand new iPad loaded up with every cook book she could find. I don't know how Buttercup brought home the golf clubs she brought for Dad; I hadn't seen them.
I had to admit, it was nice to be home.
We visited the reindeer. Vixen's youngest child was a handful, getting into everything, but I had to admit, she was incredibly cute.
"She's already trying to pull the sleighs," Reginald told me. "She's such sweet thing, but she gets into everything, so we named her Sprite." He paused. "Vixen tells me she'll pull the sleigh this year, but she wants Sprite to take over from her."
"She's just a baby!"
"I don't think she'll be ready for a couple of years," Reginald said, "and you'll need to move Comet and Cupid up. The third row is the best place for a young one."
"With Prancer on the other side?"
"No. It will need to be another reindeer about her size. Well, until she mates, of course. Dart is a little older, but I think the two of them would be good."
"Dart is a girl. Two girls?"
"Until they both mate. I thought Dart and Scooter were getting cozy, but they've been pretty standoffish since you got back."
"He was cozying up to Vitality," I said. "She didn't seem terribly interested in him though."
Reginald nodded. "She wouldn't be. Her little sister has a crush on Scooter. Vitality wouldn't do that to her."
"Ah. I didn't know."
Reginald wanted to talk more about the reindeer, but he was treating me like I was my dad, and I wasn't at all comfortable with it. Ultimately I left everything unsettled.
And two weeks later, we were back in Chicago.
* * * *
The middle of September arrived just like it always does every year. I don't know what Buttercup told Mary Marie, my new executive assistant, but the woman seemed to understand we would be gone for months and never asked me a thing about it. She assured me she would take care of everything while we were gone. We wrapped up our existing clients, got our reports out, and collected our checks.
And by October first, we were back at the North Pole.
If I thought my regular job kept me busy, well, being Santa in the lead-up to Christmas is unbelievable. Buttercup and Petunia were my two right hands, and I couldn't have handled it without them.
But I could have strangled both of them when, a week after we arrived, Mom invited me into the kitchen and then, with no preamble, she asked me about "that nice girl you met."
"What nice girl?"
"The one you failed to tell your father and I about, Dear," she said.
"I'm going to spank them!" I said.
"Now, now, they're only looking out for you. Tell me about her."
"There's not a lot to tell. She isn't interested in dating Santa. I don't actually blame her."
Mom frowned. "You father and I couldn't be happier together."
"I know, but-"
"But what?"
"You're at home here," I said, gesturing. "You were born for this."
Mom raised an eyebrow. "When I met your father, I had a shiny new law degree and an offer with a prestigious firm in Portland."
I stared at her. "A lawyer? You were a lawyer?"
"Well, I was about to become a lawyer," she replied. "And believe me, women lawyers weren't very common back then. It wasn't like it is today."
"How did you and Daddy meet?" I was a terrible daughter. I had never asked.
"Oh, much the same way you met Allison, I imagine."
"So you caught him about to deliver presents, pointed a gun at him, and yelled, 'Freeze! Police!' at him?"
Mom laughed. "Well, not the police part, but pretty much. He was delivering presents for your Uncle Bobby. I was
home, studying for the bar exam, staying up until all hours of the night and living on caffeine and your grandmother's poor cooking. I'm not sure which of us was more surprised."
"The first time you saw him, was it like a kick to your gut?" I asked her.
"Not at all. I was so frightened! This fat man dressed up like Santa was in our house. I chased him around the living room, trying to hit him with one of my textbooks and screaming my head off. I couldn't understand why I didn't wake anyone."
"What happened?"
"He disappeared up the chimney -- and our house didn't have a fireplace, so you can imagine what a shock that was. I ran outside, screaming, to look at where he went. He was standing on the roof, pacing back and forth. He had left the sack of presents in the living room, and a crazed, textbook-wielding woman wasn't about to let him back in to get them. Plus he hadn't left any presents yet."
"Was that the first time you saw the reindeer?"
"Rudolph was at the front of the line laughing his head off," Mom said. "So I yelled up at him. 'Just what do you think you're doing?' " She grinned. "He yelled back, 'Please calm down, Donna. If you let me deliver the presents, I'll take my sack and go.' "
"Did you let him?"
"I let him deliver his presents, but no way was I going to let him go until I got the entire story." She smiled. "I didn't let him leave until he promised to call me. He warned me it wouldn't be until February. We had our first date on Valentine's Day."
"Did he take you somewhere romantic?"
"Well, I took him somewhere romantic. He didn't have any money." She laughed. "He was so embarrassed about that."
I kept Mom talking about Dad for a while, then asked her what we were doing in the kitchen.
"We're talking about your future wife," she said. She smiled. "You didn't really think you could distract me permanently, did you?"
"I had hopes," I admitted. "She's not my future wife."
"Of course not. When will you see her next?"
"I'm not. End of story. So what's for dinner?"
Mom let it slide.
* * * *
Christmas approached, far too rapidly. I took the reindeer on training runs, popping down for a trip around the British Isles one day then a trip around the Mediterranean a week later. They were all in good form, and Rudolph seemed pleased to be out front again, his nose lighting up the sky in front of us. Dad used to take them for laps around Greenland, but when I asked, I was assured I could be further traveled than that. We circled the great pyramids one day and Mt. Everest three days later, but I decided Mt. Fuji was prettier.
Petunia and Buttercup kept me company, referring to themselves as "ballast".
We avoided North America.
And then, far too soon, the big day arrived.
The Big Day (Part Two)
I checked the sleigh. I checked the packages. I talked one-on-one with each of the reindeer. I hugged and kissed Mom and Dad. Petunia gave me a thermos of hot cocoa. Buttercup gave me an iPod with "road trip music" on it. She had four hundred versions of "Ride of the Valkyries", including one with barking dogs and another with meowing cats. "Bark. Bark. Bark. Barkkkkk. Bark!" It was terrible and funny at the same time.
Finally, it was time.
I twirled around, six and three-quarters times, the red suit settling into place around my body, the hat on my head, the gloves on my hands, the boots shiny and warm.
I called out the magic words, I swished the reins, and we were on our way.
I had to admit. It was pretty amazing.
Everything went without a hitch, by and large. In Japan, I met a lovely little boy named Masaru. He was seven with big, trusting eyes, the child of a Japanese man and Australian woman. They had recently moved back to Japan from Australia, and he hadn't made any friends. He spoke to me first in English then in halting Japanese. I gave him a bat and ball, shared the cookies with him, and tucked him back into bed.
In Australia, Amelia was sleeping, but there was a note for me with the cookies. "Dearest Santa. Thank you. With love, Amelia, Wendy and Jessica." I left packages for each of them. Wendy and Jessica received brand new soccer shoes, and Amelia got a soccer ball. Wendy and Jessica used to play, years ago, and now Jessica was getting to be strong enough to play with her daughter.
I gave out a lot of soccer balls on that trip and more than a few pair of soccer shoes. I knew not all the parents would start playing with their kids, but I also knew some would, and in that way, I was helping the parents spend time with their children.
I did better on time on this trip, only a couple of hours behind when leaving Europe and getting ahead long before I reached the east coast of the Americas. But I also felt myself growing tense, with my nerves frazzling as I grew closer and closer to Wisconsin.
I saved Allison's sister's house for last in Madison, and then I bade the reindeer to land especially softly. They let down with nary a bump. I grabbed an empty sack, transferred four presents to it, and descended the fireplace.
The room was well-lit with the lights of their Christmas tree, but there were shadows near the fireplace, and so I didn't see the obstacle until it was too late. I tripped over a thin thread stretched across the front of the fireplace, and from the ceiling, a net of yarn fell around my head and shoulders. At the same time, a bell began jingling, and from a chair in a dark corner of the room, I heard her voice.
"Gotcha," said Allison. "Hello, Tabitha."
"A Santa trap?" I said. "You laid a Santa trap for me?"
I was so embarrassed. I had successfully bypassed two thousand, seven hundred, and sixty-one previous Santa traps on this trip, but I had walked right into Allison's. Worse, whenever Santa gets caught in a Santa trap, an alarm goes off at the North Pole. Everyone would know I'd been caught, and there was a special snow globe in the middle of the toy factory specifically to capture my embarrassment at being caught in a Santa trap. Everyone could watch what was going on.
"I wanted to be sure I caught you," Allison said, climbing to her feet. Thankfully she was fully dressed.
The rules about Santa traps are simple. When Santa gets caught in a Santa trap, the person who set the trap has a chance, only a chance, to wake up. If the trap setter goes back to sleep, I could escape the trap and go about my business. And as a bonus, the trap setter automatically moved to the Naughty list. People on my Naughty list for setting a Santa trap got hideous, itchy sweaters for presents. Or fruit cake. The sweaters were magically infused, making the new owner wear them. The fruit cakes demanded to be eaten. I considered either suitable punishment for setting a Santa trap.
But the rules were different if the person wakes up and stays awake. It is customary, although not absolutely required, to say, "Gotcha" or some similar phrase in the language of choice.
But more importantly, I couldn't free myself from the Santa trap. Instead, I had to grant one wish to the person who set the trap. But the person had a time limit to make her demand, and it had to be a wish I was able to grant. Otherwise she would fall back asleep and I was free to go about my business.
Allison approached me, smiling.
"Are you going to let me go?" I asked. "I have a schedule to keep, you know."
She waved her finger back and forth. "Not so fast," she said. "I did my research. You have to grant a wish."
I sighed. "Yes."
She stopped about three feet away, watching me as I struggled in the net of yarn.
"I suppose you think this is funny," I suggested.
"Hilarious. It's only yarn. But you're all tangled and can't move."
"It could be spider silk, and I couldn't break it," I replied. "What's your wish, Allison?"
"Not so fast. You have to answer my questions, too, don't you?"
I sighed. "Yes."
"Without the prevarication you're so good at."
"Yes." I smiled. "But you have a time limit, then the net falls away and you fall asleep."
"Eight and three fifths minutes," she said. "I'm aware."
I don't know how she'd gotten her information.
"Why didn't you call me?"
I stared at her, but the magic started to sting when I didn't answer immediately. "You gave me the brush off. I decided you weren't looking forward to another call."
"I told you to call me."
"You told me to call you the next time I landed a reindeer on your sister's roof. Brush off."
"Oh." She looked down. "I was nervous. I shouldn't have said that." Then she looked back up. "Next question. Were you hoping for a different response from me?"
"Yes."
"You know, I tried calling you. You're not in the system, and my phone fritzed out before I could retrieve the number you'd used to call me. Why is that?"
"The magic, I suppose," I said. "I'm sorry. I don't control it. I can replace your phone."
"It's okay. I was due for an upgrade anyway. I bought a new Android."
"Don't let Buttercup know. She's a die-hard Apple fan." I smiled. "Almost out of time, Allison."
"Right. Then here is my wish. Kiss me."
I stared at her. "What?"
"You heard me. Kiss me. That's my wish. Do I have to phrase it differently?"
"No," I said in a small voice. "Agreed." And with my agreement, the Santa trap dissipated. I reached for Allison, pulled her into my arms, and gave her the kiss of her life.
And I received the kiss of mine.
The kiss went on, and on, and on.
Finally, it ended, but we stared into each other's eyes.
"Wow," we said together.
I knew then and there I had to have her. I knew then and there I had to offer myself to her. I was lost, lost in her eyes, lost in the memory of her lips pressed against mine, lost in the feel of her in my arms.
"Wow," I said again.
"Yeah," she replied. "Take me with you, Santa."
I caressed her cheek. "You used your wish, Allison. You don't get two."
"It would take a wish?" she asked, pulling away. "After a kiss like that, it would take a wish?"
"I'm sorry. It's a side effect of the Santa trap rules. As much as I want to, I can't take you with me. You're going to fall asleep as soon as I disappear up the chimney, and your trap will reset as if I've never been here."
The Emergency Claus Page 7