The Daze Before Christmas

Prologue

Santa’s Village ( Flitterndorf )

A KNOCK sounded on the oak door to his office, and Kris Kringle looked up from his worktable. Gadgets and gizmos and toys in every stage of assembly littered the tabletop. “Come in.”

His secretary, Frau Bericht, poked her head around the doorjamb. “Sorry to disturb you, Meister K, but your grandson is here to see you.”

“Oh? Please, send him in.”

She withdrew, and the door opened wider as Niklas entered, carrying his two-year-old son in one arm and a red envelope in his other hand. “Hey, Grandpop. Gram sent me over with this.” He held out the envelope, crimped and worn with age. “Tinsel and the baby are napping, and this little man has too much energy to play quietly, so I thought we’d visit the Workshop and run Gram’s errand at the same time.”

Kris reached for his great-grandson rather than the envelope. “Set that on my desk, please.” He bounced the boy on his knee, and Kole’s chubby hands clutched his beard. “Your grandmother showed you the ‘Unanswered’ file box, then?”

“Yeah. I had no clue you kept letters that long.” Niklas moved past the table to the desk positioned by the picture window. “It’s one secret after another with you.”

Kris winked at Kole, and the toddler giggled.

“Although, I’m surprised there weren’t more unanswered letters in the box, given the number of believers in the world.”

Kole yanked on his beard, and Kris winced. “Most letters get answered on their own without my help. Others need the refinement of time before I step in.”

“The refinement of time? Is that how you explain the letter I saw dating back to the 1980s?” Niklas returned to help untangle Kris’s beard from Kole’s little fist. “I’m sure whoever wrote it forty-plus years ago—”

“Ah ah. That is a special case. One I suspect you might have the pleasure of witnessing for yourself.”

“Witnessing. Not answering?”

Kris handed Kole back to Niklas without comment.

Niklas chuckled. “Another secret? Fine, I won’t pry—this time.” He lifted his son atop his shoulders and moved toward the door. “We’re off to the Production Wing. I promised Kole he could watch the delivery train make its rounds.” Niklas ducked through the doorway so his son’s head would clear the casing. “See you at dinner.”

“Dinner. Yes.” As the door clicked shut, Kris rose from his stool and reached for the letter Niklas had delivered. He smoothed a thumb over the bare, top right-hand corner and removed the letter dated almost ten years ago.

Dear Santa,

I know, I know, it’s too early to be writing you a letter—we’re only in late February!—but this is important. You’ll be pleased to note I’ve already gone to the Big Guy Upstairs, but since I doubt He’s listening to me these days (I don’t blame him), I’m hoping you can help me. Then again, you might put me on the Naughty List for life after what I’ve done.

Here’s the thing: Cash Cooper is an amazing guy and comes from an amazing family, and he deserves to be with an amazing girl. He thinks I’m that girl, but deep down, I know I’m not. And if I let him convince me otherwise, the truth of who I am, what I am, would end up staining the unblemished canvas of his life.

I can’t let that happen! So, I took measures into my own hands and made sure he witnessed me kiss another guy at the high school Valentine’s dance when I was supposed to be his date. He can’t stand cheating. But how else could I prove that he’s wrong to waste his emotions on someone like me? In time, he’ll see it’s better we go our separate ways.

This is where you come in, and why I’m writing early. All I want for Christmas is for you to help Cash find a new girl. One worthy of his love, one he won’t regret having chosen when he’s old and gray. I know you specialize in toys, but many movies suggest Santa also deals with matters of the heart. Surely those movies can’t all be wrong.

You’ve come through for me in the past, Gra Santa. Thanks for helping me out in this too. You’re the best!

Sincerely,

Hadley Jacobs

Kris lowered the letter as a band of pressure settled across his shoulders. The same pressure he’d experienced when he’d first received her Christmas wish years ago. A tragic case, that Hadley Jacobs. An understandable, yet dissatisfying, ending. But hope often rose from the Yule log ashes.

Pursing his lips, Kris turned to the picture window and peered down at the snow-blanketed, elfin village below. Wisps of smoke curled from the chimneys, and several young elves practiced hockey on the outdoor ice rink. He shifted his focus upward to the afternoon sky where, this far north, stars had already emerged for their daily trek across the heavens.

“You think now is the time to answer Hadley’s letter?” he asked.

The brightest star winked at him, and Kris sighed. “Of course, You would ask this of me during my busiest three weeks of the year. Not that I’d be gone the entire stint, but …” He ran a hand down his beard in thought. His intermittent absence this Christmas season might be a good test for his son, Nico, since Kris hoped to retire in the next couple of years.

Grinning at the sky, Kris Kringle, a.k.a. Santa Claus or Father Christmas or Babo Natale—he answered to whatever the children called him—let out a deep Ho, ho, ho . “All right, I’ll do it. Where are You sending me this time?”