Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
SAM
There was something oddly fascinating and mesmerizing about how Rose could turn a simple and innocent volunteer shift into a complete debacle in the blink of an eye.
This woman is a walking disaster.
Why didn’t it bother me?
And why did I want to rescue her so badly?
The moment I saw Rose hit the floor in an avalanche of Christmas cookies and mayhem, I dropped my copy of The Night Before Christmas on the table and flew in her direction.
I covered the library’s length in a blur of motion, my clunky Santa boots making thuds against the carpet as I weaved in and out of the gang of cookie monsters.
Two concerned parents were trying and failing to pull her to her feet. I gently took over, lifting her and steadying her with my hands on her shoulders while she found her balance.
“You okay?” I said softly, close enough that only she could hear me over the continued chaos of the cookie-obsessed children. “You took quite a hit.”
“Yeah …” Rose looked up at me with those intelligent eyes—now slightly dazed.
Most people would have either gotten defensive, started tossing the blame on someone, or even tried to turn the whole thing into a self-deprecating joke. Rose just stood there, dusting herself off.
“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” I said.
“What can I say? Awkward is my middle name,” she replied.
I chuckled and held up a finger. “Ho ho ho!” I called out to the crowd across the baked-goods battlefield.
“It looks like my cookie-guarding elf has discovered some very sneaky reindeer trying to raid Santa’s emergency fuel supply!
Everyone knows the rule—Santa’s sleigh runs on exactly one cookie per reindeer, or we’ll never make it around the world on Christmas Eve!
Do you want presents this year or not?” I cupped my hand dramatically around my ear and waited for a response.
The cookie-obsessed mob froze mid-grab and mid-chew, then erupted in unison with a very resounding, “YES!”
“Then I command you to drop those cookies immediately!”
The words came out like a medieval king addressing his subjects rather than some nerdy guy in a Santa suit talking to youngsters.
Still, the dramatic approach seemed to work. Like magic, every single child immediately opened their hands and let their cookies fall to the floor.
Rose was staring at me in amazement. Her elf hat was still crooked, there were cookie crumbs on her extremely short tunic, and she looked like she’d survived a tornado, but somehow that just made her more endearing.
“Now,” I continued in my apparently effective royal decree voice, “real Christmas magic only works when everyone follows the rules. And I need to finish my story! Back to where you were! I will start the reading once you are all seated again!”
Most of the kids ran to sit down in the reading area, while a few of them said, “Sorry, Santa,” before heading in that direction.
“What in the world …” Eleanor pulled up beside us and surveyed the damage. “I was gone for three minutes!”
“I’m so sorry—I take full responsibility for what happened, and I’ll pay to replace the cookies,” Rose said without hesitation.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “I saw the whole thing unfold when I glanced over during that power flicker, because I thought we might lose electricity like last week.” I gestured toward the cookie carnage.
“That’s when I noticed you’d taken over for Eleanor, then spotted April Benson getting in your face.
She was demanding extra cookies, wasn’t she? ”
Rose’s eyes widened with surprise. “Yes! How could you possibly know that from way over there?”
“Because that’s what she does,” I said. “There’s a reason she’s known as the weasel around here.”
“April has turned entitlement into an art form,” Eleanor whispered. “Last month she actually argued that she deserved free eggnog at Sam’s book club because she drove so far to get here in her brand new Mercedes-Benz.”
“I caught the girl taking three cookies,” Rose said. “Her mother didn’t care.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” I said.
“Anyway, that’s how it all started. I gave them another cookie just so she’d go away without making a scene.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Eleanor said.
“Me too,” I said.
“San-ta! San-ta! San-ta!” the kids cheered.
“That’s my cue,” I said with a grin, walking back over to the reading area to continue with the book.
Fortunately, there were no more incidents over the next fifteen minutes as I came to the end of the story.
“And to all a good night!” I said with theatrical flair as I closed the worn copy of The Night Before Christmas.
The children erupted into enthusiastic applause, their faces glowing with the pure joy that only comes from a wonderful story.
“Tell us another story!” one kid called out.
“Yeah!” screamed a handful of others.
I chuckled and held up my hands. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa needs to save his voice so he can greet you properly.” I winked at the audience. “Who wants to have a photo taken with me?”
“Me!” they yelled together.
“All right then, my wonderful boys and girls,” Eleanor announced.
“It’s time for the most magical part of our evening—photos with Santa!
” She paused and smiled, waiting momentarily for the cheers to die down.
“Everyone will get a turn to sit with Santa and tell him their Christmas wishes, so let’s be patient, no pushing or shoving.
Parents, please make your way to the photo area while the children line up nicely behind Miss Rose, our beautiful elf assistant. ”
Dozens of excited children followed Rose toward the makeshift North Pole setup inside the large community room.
A few seconds later, I entered the room to the cheers of the kids. Luckily, everyone was orderly and non-confrontational as they formed a line in front of Rose.
I walked to the front of the room, eyeing the red velvet chair on the stage, the fake snow scattered on the floor, and enough twinkling lights to give most adults vertigo.
I waved Rose over to the side of the stage to speak with her for a moment before we started the photo session. She hesitated with a puzzled look before joining me.
“Leo is going to adjust the lights on the stage, so it’ll be a minute or two before we can start,” I said, then appreciatively eyed her costume. “I meant to tell you earlier—you make the perfect elf.”
“You’re joking,” Rose said.
I shook my head. “Not at all. And thanks for doing this. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said. “And I mean literally, never mention this outfit or the cookie catastrophe for as long as I live. This is just another one of those episodes I would like to clear from my RAM.”
“Come on—it’s not that bad,” I said. “I’m sure you can find something positive in this situation if you look hard enough.”
“Sure—whatever you say,” she replied with that dry wit I found charming. She gestured down at her bright yellow tights with obvious resignation. “I’ve always dreamed of having banana legs, and here I am, living the dream.”
“Well, lucky for me, I just find bananas a-peel-ing,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Was that your attempt at humor?” Rose asked.
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted. “Though in my defense, the red velvet suit comes with a mandatory pun requirement. I don’t make the rules.”
“How unfortunate for both of us.”
“Could be worse,” I said. “I could break into my knock-knock joke repertoire.”
“Please don’t,” Rose said.
“Fine—be that way.” I chuckled and then adjusted my beard. “All right, showtime.”
I settled into the chair on the stage and watched Rose guide the first child from the line—a girl who looked about six or seven with pigtails and a scowl that could curdle milk.
“Santa, this is Madison,” Rose announced with the utmost professional efficiency.
So far, so good. No accidents.
We’re off to a great start!
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” I boomed. “Welcome, Madison! Come sit with Santa!”
The girl climbed onto my lap with all the enthusiasm of someone attending a tax audit, then crossed her arms.
“I know you’re not real,” she immediately said.
I leaned back in mock surprise. “Well, I do not know what you’re talking about, young lady, but if you think I’m not real, why are you here?”
Madison rolled her eyes with the world-weary attitude of someone who’d clearly figured out the adult conspiracy.
“Because if I go along with it, I know I’ll get all the presents I want.
” She plastered a smile on her face and enthusiastically waved to her parents with the authenticity of an Oscar-winning actress.
Her parents waved back, looking as proud as ever.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Five and three-quarters.”
I chuckled. “You’re pretty smart for five and three-quarters.”
“I know,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Can we take the photo now? I’ve got other stuff to do. Dad is going to buy me some good candy, and Mom will get me a pretty Christmas clip for my hair and a toy.”
Madison gave another fake smile for the camera—or maybe it was real since she knew she was conning everyone—then hopped down and marched back toward her parents like she’d just completed a successful business negotiation.
Rose approached with the next child, a girl about eight with earnest brown eyes and carefully braided hair.
“Santa, this is Emma,” Rose said.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Hello there, Emma!” I said.
The girl slid onto my lap and smiled. “Hi, Santa. I really need your help this year. I mean, really, really, really, a lot.”
This sounded like a potential family to add to my list. I could not wait to find out how I could help them.
“Well, this sounds very important,” I said. “What can Santa do for you?”