by Celia Aaron
She nods.
“I once knew a little girl who looked in the mirror and saw an ugly person. Now, this girl wasn’t ugly. Not at all. But there were children at her school who said she was.”
She looks down, then back up, an unspoken recognition in her eyes.
“This little girl had beauty in here.” I point to her heart. “But she couldn’t see it. And she had beauty out here.” I wave my white-gloved hand in front of her face. “But she couldn’t see it. All because other children told her she was ugly, and fat, and that she would never have her dreams come true. This little girl dreamed of being an actress. But those children, they told her she couldn’t. That she was the wrong shape. That no one would ever want to see her on a stage or in a movie.”
Her eyes begin to glisten, but I continue, “Those children, the mean ones, they were wrong, Ebony. That girl grew up, and then she chased her dreams to a big city just like this one, and right when she was thinking about giving up or doing something else or even going home, she got a part in a show. A big one. A role that changed her life.” My own eyes water, and I try to swallow my tears back down. “At first she didn’t want the part. She didn’t think she was qualified. But once she started playing the role, she realized she was good at it. That she could make her dreams come true. And you know what?”
“What?” she whispers.
“She became a great actress. One beloved by hundreds, maybe thousands of children. And she doesn’t intend to stop. So, dream big. Those other kids? They don’t know the greatness you have inside you, just like they didn’t know the greatness of the girl in the story. But one day, they will. One day, your heart will shine for the world to see. And that day will be absolutely beautiful, just like you.” I hug her gently, but she throws her arms around me and holds me tight.
“I love you, Santa.”
“I love you, too, Ebony.” I’m glad for the tickly beard, because it serves as an excellent tear catcher.
Chapter 16
Crane
“This looks fine.” I flip through the pages Beverly prepared for me. “Just make the two changes I marked and have a runner send it down to the store for Ms. Fairchild.”
“You sure about this?” Beverly asks.
“Don’t question me.” I sit back in my chair and wave her out of my office.
She takes the papers, gives me an acidic look, then leaves. I understand her hesitancy. After all, I’m hiring a second assistant. But she doesn’t need to fear. Lindsay will be an assistant in name only. I don’t expect her to do much around the office except keep me company, and I can think of plenty of ways to make that pleasant for both of us.
Once she sees her new position, she won’t want to leave for Christmas. I smile and turn to look out at the brightening day. Everything is working out perfectly.
Conference calls go on as scheduled, each manager checking in. Some are fearful of falling numbers, others crow about the money they’re raking in. I find myself almost uninterested at this point. Possibly because the Christopher Company has been sniffing around my financials and, if my spies are correct, Reed Christopher intends to make an offer before the end of the year. If that happens, I can close the deal in the first quarter, then wash my hands of this place for good.
I’m enjoying a quiet lunch at my desk when Henry strides into my office without knocking.
“What?” I focus on my steak.
My door opens again, and Higginbotham enters right behind Henry.
“Beverly, call security.” I stand and cross my arms.
“On it,” she calls.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I carefully fold my napkin. “Didn’t we already have this chat? Higginbotham, you’re out. You’ve been out. Henry, if you keep this up, you’ll be out on your ass just the same.”
Henry points to a sheaf of papers in Higginbotham’s hand. “We have the proxy votes.”
I raise a brow. “That’s not possible.”
“It certainly is.” A woman enters behind Higginbotham. She’s familiar, but I can’t place her.
“I’m not sure why you think it’s all right to barge into my office, but—”
“This is Gertrude Uline. She owns a great deal of stock in Marley’s.”
“I collected it when your father gave it out as part of our bonuses, though I see you stopped giving much of anything.” The elderly lady levels me with the same disappointed look as she had weeks ago in the store.
“I remember you.”
Henry pats the papers. “I have her votes, as well as the votes of several former and current employees.”
I wave a hand at them. “You don’t even know what you’re doing. The board isn’t meeting until next—”
“The board meets this afternoon.” Higginbotham turns the sheaf around to me. “The articles of incorporation allow for a proxy fight to move forward with a quorum at the earliest possible juncture.”
“That juncture is this afternoon,” Henry says. “And I just got off the phone with Reed Christopher. I was very sorry to inform him that Marley’s isn’t for sale.”
Two security guards walk in, their eyes shifting from me to the three interlopers.
“Escort them out.” I jerk my chin at Henry and crew.
“Touch me, son, and you’ll regret it,” Mrs. Uline practically growls.
Henry turns. “Everyone, please wait outside. I need to talk to my brother.”
“Sir?” A security guard asks.
“Go.” I sit at my desk, my legs suddenly weak. If what Henry says is true—and it certainly looks like it is—I’m done. All my plans are falling apart because of my brother. Actually, not just because of him. Mrs. Uline is like my father’s skeletal hand reaching out from beyond the grave to torment me.
I rub my eyes. “This is a mistake.”
“No, it’s not.” Henry sits across from me. “You need this as much as I do.”
“What?” I look up at him.
“Look at you.” He gives me an earnest stare. “You hate this job, this company, and your life. You are miserable.”
“Not true.” I may hate this place, but I have happiness in my life now. Lindsay.
“Completely true. The only thing that brings you joy is the new holiday hire. All the rest of this can go. You’ll be better off.”
The sinking feeling inside me turns to seething anger. “Don’t make your theft of the company from me out to be some mercy mission. You’re a spoiled, selfish prodigal son who wants to be just like our father.”
“No, I don’t. But I do want to keep his business alive. People depend on us for jobs. I don’t want that to end.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on my desk. “We can keep the company without turning into him. You know that, right?”
A million flashbacks play through my mind. My father absent, aloof, uninterested, angry, or simply gone. Nothing warm. Nothing to be salvaged.
“You’re wrong, Henry.”
“Crane, you have to go. I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but I can see it clear as day. You have to get out of here and stay out of here for long while. We don’t need your vote this afternoon. We have a quorum. Just go. Trust me.”
I laugh, the sound barked and ugly. “Trust you?” I rise and grab my coat. “Trust the brother who stabbed me in the back and stole my company?” I walk past him. “We are no longer brothers. I hope you’ve already arranged legal counsel, because I intend to tie this fight up in court for years, draining Marley’s coffers all the while. Everything you’ve done here today has been for nothing.”
I keep my head high as I stroll past a shocked Beverly, a smug Mrs. Uline, and a flustered Higginbotham. They can have this place. I hope it brings them the same amount of joy that it’s brought me.
Chapter 17
Lindsay
I stand and stretch, my back aching until it pops, and I let out a relieved groan. Despite my aches and pains, I smile. It’s been a great day with the kids, and Crane has been extra sweet by tr
ying to set me up in a permanent position at his office. I can’t take it because I need to keep trying for acting jobs, but just the thought of him making the offer has my big bowl-full-of-jelly stomach jiggling with butterflies, or maybe my Rudolph stuffing has shifted. Either way, I’m happy.
Brianna, the elf I don’t know quite as well, organizes the checkout desk while there’s a lull in children coming to see Santa. We’ve been slammed most of the day, and I’m looking forward to a quiet evening alone with Crane.
An associate from ladieswear hastens over and starts up a loud chatter with Chrissy. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” Brianna asks.
I walk over to listen. It’s not really eavesdropping; I’m in a bright red Santa suit.
“We’re off on Christmas Eve.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised, then lower my voice. “Really?”
“Yes.” The associate leans closer. “And I hear the mean Marley is out and the cute Marley is in at the top.”
My stomach does an ugly twirl. “What?”
“Yeah,” the associate nods, clearly pleased to be delivering the tea. “The cute one took control from the mean one. They’re going to make it official at the board meeting thing in less than an hour. So we get Christmas Eve off, and everything is going to be so much better.”
“Thank God.” Brianna laughs. “I hate when the mean one comes in. He’s not bad to look at, but then he always has something nasty to say. Everyone hates him. Good riddance.”
“He’s not so bad.” I step closer.
“What?” The ladieswear associate gives me a skeptical look. “That man is the devil. He fired two of my friends this summer for no reason. Just because he was feeling like an asshole that day. He’s no good, Santa. Just check your naughty list. You’ll find him there.”
“Stop chattering, and get back to work.” Ms. Martin hurries up, her stern face on tight.
The associate frowns but walks away.
“Hey,” I call after her. “He’s not a bad person. He’s just—”
“Good afternoon, shoppers!” Crane’s voice comes over the PA. But there’s something wrong with it. “So glad to have you here at this stinkin’, over-priced department store that should’ve closed in the eighties, but somehow lives on to torment me.”
I look up. “Is he…”
“Drunk.” Brianna covers her mouth with her hand.
“Oh no,” Ms. Martin and I say in unison.
She turns and sprints through menswear, her steps surprisingly spry. I turn in a circle, but don’t see him anywhere.
“Here ye, here ye. This is Crane Marley.” He hiccups. “The store is closed. Closed. But first take whatever items you like! Yes. Take things. Don’t leave them for my ingrate employees to steal.”
I get up on the tiptoes of my giant shoes and try to find him, but no luck. The PA can be accessed from any phone in the store.
“Yes, you. You take this.” Scuffling noises sound, as if the microphone is rubbing against fabric. “Take it. It’s yours. We don’t need that mannequin anymore.”
“Where is he?” I ask Brianna, but she shrugs, a grin on her face.
“It’s not funny!” I step off the stage and hurry to the administration hall. People are standing and staring at the speakers as Crane continues to force free items on what I assume are terrified customers.
“This is yours.” Another hiccup. “You’ll look lovely in that dress … what? No it doesn’t matter if you’re a man. Take it!”
I turn back around and rush out, almost running into Santa.
“You better watch out.” He steadies me before I go sprawling.
“Where is he?” I jump to try and see over the racks of menswear.
“Second floor.” Santa taps the side of his nose and points to the women’s formalwear department.
I take off, my big black boots trying to trip me as I jump onto the escalator.
“One-hundred percent off. Everything in the store is one-hundred percent off. Grab it before it’s gone. If security tries to stop you, just keep running. The courts go hard on shopkeepers who do a false imprisonment. I should know. We have dozens of pending lawsuits. Dozens,” he slurs into the microphone as I almost fall on the escalator. “Because I’m hard on shoplifters, okay? I’m hard on people who steal from me. Like my brother, for example. He’s a thief. A nasty, back-stabbing thief!”
My foot gets caught at the top of the escalator, and the entire thing shuts down as I try to wrench my boot free.
“Come on!” I pull and pull until my foot pops out and the boot stays wedged, so I run with only one shoe on. “Crane!”
“Thieves, can’t trust ‘em. Same for all my employees. Can’t trust ‘em. They looooooved my father, though. Hate me. Loved him. He loved them, too. Way more than me. So Merry Christmas, employees! I hate you all.” He turns and looks right at me. “And you! Santa! I hate you worst of all.”
The venom in his words stops me.
“You are a liar. Kids—if there are any kids in the store—this Santa isn’t real. He’s a fake. Santa was never real. Your parents LIE to you. That’s right. And this guy right here?” He points at me, his drunken eyes glassy. “He’s the biggest liar of all. He tells you things are going to be okay, that people will get what they deserve at the end of the year, that good will win. He’s a liar. He doesn’t love anyone. He’s fake. He’s a drunk! This stupid fake Santa you’ve all been raving about? He’s a drunk! He can’t hold down a real job, just one where he gets to be a clown for children for one month out of the year.”
My eyes sting, and I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. He isn’t saying it to me. I know that. But I also don’t. What sort of man can say these things? Have I been ignoring all the bad just because Crane’s been good to me?
“He’s a fraud, a joke, a drunk, a criminal. He’s stupid, just like all of my employees. Expendable, too. Santa, you’re fired.”
Someone comes to my elbow.
Crane’s gaze shifts. “Hey, Ms. Martin, good to see you. You’re fired, too.”
Tears roll down my cheeks as Ms. Martin threads her arm through mine. I turn to look at her, and her upper lip is as stiff as always, but her eyes are soft and not the least bit surprised it’s me. She knows. She knows I’m Santa. Has she known all along?
“Crane,” Henry calls from behind us. “Put the handset down.”
“Et tu brute?” He laughs maniacally into the PA. “Another liar. You and Santa, perfect together.” He looks around. “Hey, where’s Lindsay? Lindsay, come get a load of these liars. I’m sorry I ever had you working with this garbage Santa. He couldn’t fool anyone. Just look at him. Pathetic.” He laughs some more.
“Crane, stop this. You’ve done enough,” Henry says.
I take a shuddering breath and reach up, grab my Santa hat and wig, then pull them off my head. With another tug, I remove my beard, and drop it all to the ground beside me.
Ms. Martin holds my arm tighter, and Henry comes to my other side. Crane’s mouth falls open as I pull off the netting holding my hair tight beneath the wig.
Crane drops the phone and lurches around the cash wrap. “Lindsay, it’s you. Why are you dressed up as Santa?”
“She’s been playing Santa this whole time, and she was damn good at it,” Ms. Martin snaps.
“Lindsay, all that stuff I said, it wasn’t meant for you.” He moves closer, and I get the strong scent of whiskey.
“I know.” I sniff and wipe my eyes with my gloved hands. “I know it wasn’t meant for me, but it was meant for someone, and that’s enough.” I back away. “We’re done, Crane.”
“Lindsay, I’m sorry.” He really does seem sorry, but it doesn’t matter. I see him now. He’s broken. I’ve been ignoring the broken pieces, but I can’t do that anymore.
“Stop, Crane. Leave her alone.” Henry’s voice carries to me, but I’m already gone, hurrying down the escalator and down to the store room. I grab my bag of clothes, not bothering to cha
nge as I rush to the back door. I push it open and run onto the sidewalk.
The cold wind blows against my exposed face, almost freezing the tears to my skin, but I keep going. I won’t stop. Not until I’m away from this nightmare and safe at home.
Chapter 18
Lindsay
Dingo steals the bottom half of my bed just like old times. She’s a Golden Retriever whose sweetness far outweighs her smarts. But she’s good at keeping my feet warm, so there’s that.
Christmas Eve is here, and Mama is in the kitchen banging pots and pans under the guise of making a breakfast casserole when what she really wants is for me to get up so she can grill me about what happened in the city.
I pull my pillow over my head and will the tears to stay away. I’ve cried enough. Poor Grant had to listen to me blubber for hours as he drove us all the way home in a tiny, rented car. He may not want to be my roommate any more after all that. I can’t blame him.
Despite my efforts to forget them, Crane’s words still ring in my head about what a crappy Santa I was. But I know it’s not true. The smiling children—and even the crying ones sometimes—showed me that I had Santa’s spirit the entire time I wore his suit. All the same, isn’t it a kicker how one bad review can somehow erase all the rave reviews, at least temporarily?
“I was a great Santa.” I reach down and blindly pet Dingo’s head. “Seriously, Dingo. I was the best.”
She licks my hand, so I take that as a vote of confidence.
“Charlene, will you lay off the crock ware for a minute?” Dad calls.
“I will not,” she shoots back. “If you want a silent breakfast, then go find yourself a silent wife! Your daughter’s been moping for two days. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of her. I’m not interested in your need for quiet time, Lionel!”
“Lordy.” He laughs from his spot in his favorite recliner. “What a tear she’s on today.”