The Christmas Keeper

by Jenn McKinlay

  She strode into their office space, expecting to find everyone there. It was just Maisy, who was sitting at her desk, working on her laptop. The sound of Christmas music was playing softly in the background and Savannah tried to block it out. It was no use. She figured she’d have to start wearing earbuds in the bookstore for the next month until the holiday madness was over.

  She slid onto her chair at the desk across from Maisy’s and her friend glanced up and then her eyes went wide. “Oh, honey, are you all right? Are you feeling under the weather?”

  “What?” Savy asked. She shook her head. “No, why?”

  “Um, no reason,” Maisy said. She glanced back down at her desk and then back up. “I’m your friend, right?”

  “My best friend,” Savy said. She frowned. “Why, are you thinking of replacing me?”

  “No, I just wanted to make sure that the foundation of BFF is firm before I inform you, in the most loving way I can, that you look like crap,” Maisy said. “And not just bad, but like left outside overnight in the rain and left for dead bad.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Savannah said.

  “So, what gives?” Maisy asked. “I know you. You used to go to class after a full night of carousing, freshly showered and with full hair and makeup. You either have the bubonic plague or . . .”

  “Or what?” Savy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Maisy said. “That’s the blank I’m waiting for you to fill in. So, what’s with the slovenly attire, or is that what’s trending in New York these days, because I have to say it’s not a good look—even Chrissy Teigen could not pull this off.”

  “Can’t a girl just dress down every now and again?”

  “A girl? Sure. You? No. I’m surprised you haven’t broken out in a rash from the alarmingly high level of comfort you must be feeling in those clothes.”

  “The bagginess of the sweatshirt is annoying,” Savy conceded. “But the pants have pockets. Me like the pockets.”

  She stood and jammed her hands into the side pockets, modeling them for Maisy. Then she pulled the sweatshirt off and was left in just a formfitting waffle-knit thermal shirt and her cargo pants, which were actually flattering for pants that sported so many pockets. Next she pulled off the headband and her long red curls sprang free. Since Quino wasn’t here, she didn’t feel the need to look so dowdy.

  “That’s more like it,” Maisy said. “You had me worried there.”

  “Sorry, I’m not myself today.”

  “Who are you, then?” a deep voice asked from the doorway.

  Savannah turned at the same time Maisy jumped from her seat with a clap and yelled, “Santa!”

  Savannah felt her jaw drop. Standing in the doorway dressed from head to toe in red velvet with white faux fur trim, sporting a fluffy white beard and shiny black boots, was the jolly old elf himself.

  One look at his twinkling eyes and Savannah felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks. She knew this Santa, she knew him very well, as she had in fact just been making out with him.

  Chapter Five

  SHE thought about diving for her headband and her sweatshirt but it was too late. Besides, who was she kidding? Joaquin had already seen her without makeup, in her bathrobe, and with hair that was flat on one side and exploding out of her skull on the other. Clearly, nothing put the man off.

  “Joaquin, you look amazing!” Maisy cried. “How’s your laugh? Can you do a good laugh?”

  “Ho ho ho,” he rolled out a deep guffaw.

  “Perfect!” Maisy squealed. She clapped her hands. “Are you sure you don’t mind? Ryder felt horrible that he had to go and couldn’t do it.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Savy muttered. Neither Joaquin nor Maisy acknowledged her.

  “Are you kidding?” he asked. “I was born to play Santa Claus. Ho ho ho.”

  “This is so great!” Maisy grabbed his gloved hand and pulled him to the door. “I’m going to have you start on the porch, handing out candy canes.”

  “Sounds great,” he said. “But wait. What if people want pictures and stuff? Wouldn’t it be great for the bookstore’s social media if you posted pictures of Santa with customers?”

  “Ah,” Maisy gasped. “You’re right. We need a photographer.”

  They both looked at Savannah. She shook her head. “No.”

  “But the bookstore needs you,” Maisy implored. “You know I’m terrible at photography. I cut off everyone’s head. What kind of publicity would that be? A bunch of decapitated customers with Santa?”

  Savy rolled her eyes. She would have argued, but the sad fact was, it was true. Maisy was horrible with pictures. “All right, I’ll take a few pictures.”

  “You will?” Maisy raised her hands in the air in triumph. “Fabulous. Oh, and there’s an elf costume in the bathroom for you to wear, you know, because Santa needs an elf. Great. See you outside.”

  “What? No! Hey!”

  Maisy shoved Joaquin through the door and slammed it behind them, effectively ending the discussion.

  “I am not dressing like an elf!” Savy yelled at the closed door. “I have dignity and a sense of decorum. A twenty-nine-year-old woman does not dress like an elf. Plus, I’m too tall.”

  She was talking to no one. They were already gone. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and checked the battery. The easiest way to take pictures was with her phone, then she could also live-stream Joaquin, as Santa, on their social media pages. Oh, jeez, maybe she did want to dress as an elf because she most definitely did not want anyone to recognize her when she was out there as Santa’s little helper.

  Good grief. What had her life become? She rose from her desk and strode to the staff bathroom in the corner. Hanging on the back of the door was a garment bag. She unzipped it with a wince. It was even worse than she feared. Green-and-white-striped tights, a green velvet dress with white faux fur trim, and a matching pointy hat. This wasn’t even sexy-time elf attire; this was more like elf as a crossing guard. Maisy was going to owe her so huge for this.

  Savannah slipped into the outfit and was surprised and delighted to find that the dress actually had pockets. So that was something, at least. She put her cell phone into the side pocket and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. It was not good.

  The striped stockings were not flattering, and the length of the dress on her tall frame made it a minidress. She cinched the costume’s wide black belt in a desperate attempt to show that she had a waistline but the Peter Pan collar still made her look like a doofus. To top it all off, her pointy hat had a jingle bell on the end of it and it rang with every step she took. Ridiculous.

  The outfit didn’t come with shoes, so she slipped on her high-top sneakers and stomped out of the bathroom and through the office. Whose idea was this Santa-and-elf thing? Shouldn’t they have run it by her? When she’d signed on for this gig, it had not included dressing up in horrible costumes. Yeah, sure, they’d all dressed up as witches for Halloween, but they had been dead-sexy witches, which was a whole other thing. This outfit made her feel like she should be running away from the Abominable Snowman, her reindeer sidekick lighting the way with his nose.

  She found Maisy and Santa on the front porch. He was leaning over the railing and waving at cars that drove by and calling, “Ho ho ho.”

  Savannah glowered at Maisy.

  “Oh, you look so cute,” Maisy cried. Joaquin turned around and took in the sight of Savannah. The grin beneath his bushy white beard was wide.

  “Don’t!” She pointed at him. “If anyone is laughing at anyone, I’m laughing at you because you’re wearing a fake beard and a belly pillow.”

  “Better than fake ears,” he said. He lifted a white-gloved finger and poked the pointy ear sewn into her hat. She smacked his hand away.

  “Stop that,” she said.

  He snorted. She turned to Maisy. “You owe me so hu
ge for this.”

  “No doubt,” Maisy said. “This is definitely above and beyond, especially for someone as ambivalent about the holidays as you. I really appreciate your digging deep and taking one for the team.”

  “Hmm.” Savannah hummed, not feeling mollified in the least.

  “Come on,” Joaquin said. He grabbed Savy’s hand and led her to the stairs. “Let’s go out to the street and see if we can wave people in.”

  Maisy handed Savy a cloth sack full of candy canes. “Have fun!”

  “What? No!” Savannah protested. It was bad enough people coming to the shop might see her, but if they stood on the street everyone would see her in this ridiculous getup.

  “What’s your elf name?” Quino asked. He was plowing down the walkway like he was on a mission.

  “I don’t have an elf name,” she snapped.

  “Then let’s make one,” he said. “How about Snickerdoodle Jingle Bells?”

  “No.”

  “Ginger McSnowball.”

  “No.” She gave him a grumpy look that she hoped masked the laugh that had almost escaped.

  “I know.” He snapped his gloved fingers but no sound came out. “Mistletoe Merrybottom.”

  “Shut up.” This time a snort escaped and he grinned at her. She ignored him. “You can call me Elf. It’s a nice gender-neutral name that’s easy to remember.”

  “Boring.” He rolled his eyes but he didn’t argue. He turned around and continued down the walkway until they were out on the sidewalk. He checked the street in both directions but it was quiet. Maisy had put a sandwich board out on the sidewalk that read, HAPPILY EVER AFTER BOOKSTORE BOGO TODAY ONLY!

  Joaquin hefted up the sign and began to walk down the sidewalk toward the center of town. Savy hurried to catch up to him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Going where there’s more foot traffic,” he said. “This is a side street off the town green. We need to be on the corner to direct shoppers toward the bookstore.”

  He said this in a matter-of-fact way as if it was the most logical thing in the world to go stand on a corner dressed as Santa and an elf. Savy was not having it. She stopped walking. It took Joaquin a couple of paces to realize she wasn’t behind him. He paused, putting the heavy wooden board down, and looked back at her.

  “Problem?”

  “I am not going to stand in the center of town dressed like an elf,” she said. “I love Maisy and I love her bookstore but this is asking too much. Public humiliation was not a part of the bargain when I came to help her out.”

  He studied her for a moment. He looked as if he was undecided as to what to say. Savy almost told him not to bother since there was nothing he could say that would make her humiliate herself in front of the entire town of Fairdale.

  Finally, he just sighed and hefted the sign up onto his shoulder. “Suit yourself,” he said. “But since it’s going to take a Christmas miracle to save Maisy’s bookstore, I for one am willing to make an ass of myself if it helps her keep her shop.”

  With that he turned and walked away, striding up the sidewalk like the most badass Santa ever.

  Save Maisy’s bookstore? What was that supposed to mean? Savy ran after him.

  “Hold up there, Kris Kringle,” she said. She scooted around in front of him and planted herself so he was forced to stop. “What do you mean ‘save Maisy’s bookstore’?”

  “I can’t say,” he said.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No, I can’t,” he said. “I was eavesdropping and I only heard part of the conversation.”

  “That’s so rude,” she said.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I was dazed and confused and stumbled into the office—”

  “Wait, why were you dazed and confused?” she asked.

  “Because I had just finished kissing you, Red,” he said.

  Even behind the Santa beard the look he gave her was smokin’ hot. Savy refused to get sidetracked even though her temperature had just spiked and she was sweating beneath the polyester fibers of her hideous outfit. She made a circular motion with her one free hand, signaling for him to continue.

  “So, after you bolted upstairs, I went to the office to see what else needed to be done,” he said. “The door was ajar and I heard Maisy talking to someone on the phone. I didn’t want to interrupt so I figured I’d cool my heels until she was done. That’s when I heard her say, ‘So what you’re saying is, we’ll lose everything if we don’t have the money by the end of the year.’ She sounded upset, very upset. That’s why I stepped up to be Santa when Ryder had to go. I’m worried that they might lose the bookstore, Red.”

  “Ah,” Savannah gasped. “Do you know who was she talking to?”

  “No, she never said their name, and after I heard that bit I ducked out of there because I knew I was out of line.”

  “Do you think Ryder knows?”

  Quino shrugged, which looked silly in the Santa suit, but Savy didn’t even smile. She was too consumed with worry over her friend’s shop.

  “He hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “Maybe it’s not that bad,” Savy said. “Maybe you misunderstood.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t sound like he believed that. “But like I said, she sounded . . . upset.”

  “Oh, man, how did I not notice we were in trouble? It had to have been Jeri she was talking to. Why didn’t she tell me? I could help!”

  “Breathe, Red,” he said. “It sounds like she’s got some time, but we have to make sure that the store does some killer business for the next month.”

  “Breathe? How can I breathe?” she demanded. “Did you know that thirty percent of small businesses fail in their first two years and fifty percent fail in the first five years? This is not good. Not good!”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Which is why I’m dressed like Saint Nick and off to work the corner.” He paused and grimaced slightly. “Oh, that sounded very wrong.”

  This time she did laugh, mostly because the image of him doing a pole dance in his Santa costume on the lamppost on the corner popped into her head and she couldn’t shake it.

  “Well, Mr. C., looks like it’s time for you to go do the wild thing, because we are going to pimp the shizzle out of the Happily Ever After Bookstore,” she said. She winked at him and then spread her arms wide and jiggled her front back and forth in a full-on shimmy shake. “Come on, work it, Santa, work it. Boom chica wah-wah.”

  “Stop,” he said. He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to watch her and then he popped one open as if he couldn’t bear not to. “I am dressed as an icon of all that is pure and good. I am not slutting up the Santa suit.”

  “Really?” she asked. She arched an eyebrow at him. “Then why do you keep a naughty list?”

  “My God, it’s hot out here, isn’t it?” he asked. He tugged at the front of his velvet suit as if trying to find an opening for some air.

  She laughed and then picked up one side of the heavy wooden sign. “Come on, if we’re going to drive the people to Maisy’s shop and save her from bankruptcy, we’ve got to get moving.”

  The center of town was in full holiday shopping mode. The foot traffic was thick and Santa and his reluctant elf worked the crowd, pointing them in the direction of the bookstore while handing out candy canes and posing for pictures.

  Joaquin had the laugh down and Savy saw more than one child gaze at him in wonder with their eyes wide as they quivered with the hope that he was the real deal. One intrepid boy approached them, giving Quino a side-eye. He was clearly a doubter, which meant he was Savy’s people, all right.

  “He’s a fake,” the boy said to Savy.

  She looked down at him, wondering what was the best way to play this. She reached into her cloth sack and pulled out a candy cane. She held it out to him and h
e took it, turning it over in his hands.

  “I’ve seen these candy canes at the store,” he said. “They’re not made by elves at the North Pole.”

  “That’s because we’re too busy making toys,” she said.

  “Toy companies make toys,” he countered.

  Savy blew one red curl off her forehead and fixed him with a hard stare. “Who do you think works at toy factories?” The boy was quiet. “That’s right. Elves.”

  “No way,” he said. He was short and skinny, with close-cropped hair and a missing front tooth.

  “How old are you, kid?” she asked.

  “Old enough not to believe that fat men in red suits can come down chimneys,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at her.

  Savy glanced over her shoulder, looking for backup, but Joaquin was taking pictures with an adorable set of twin girls, both of whom looked completely enamored with him. It seemed women of every age responded to the Solis charm. Every woman but her, she reminded herself.

  “So, you’re eight?” Savy guessed.

  “Seven,” the boy said.

  Savy had her own issues with the holidays but she really hated that this kid was such a doubter. It seemed to her the magic of the holiday should last at least until a kid hit the double digits, like ten. Ten was a good age to move on from the folklore.

  “Well, you know what they say,” she said. “If you don’t believe, you don’t receive.”

  The boy pursed his lips, considering her words. It looked as if this possibility had never occurred to him. Savy kept her face blank and turned away to hand out candy canes to other children in the area. The boy remained watching Joaquin with a suspicious gaze.

  Savy carefully sidled up to Santa. She jerked her head in the direction of the boy and whispered, “We have a doubter at two o’clock.”