Chapter One
Balfour
“Happy Thanksgiving, Balfour!”
A myriad of similar calls echoed past my open office door and down the hallway of the workshop. Not looking up from the many spreadsheets I had open on my computer screen, or returning the holiday sentiment, I waited for the noise to fade and eventually end altogether.
Finally, blessed silence. Now maybe I could get some actual work done.
The workshop had barely been working today. Too much laughter and good cheer, as well as the potluck carry in that had taken place at lunchtime. That had essentially ended the workday early, as people had been too wrapped up in filling their bellies and the upcoming four-day holiday.
Let me repeat, a four-day holiday. Weeks before Christmas!
It was unheard of. Or it had been until my boss, Nik, otherwise known as The Santa–yeah that Santa–had taken over the family business. Oh, and he had fallen in love with a human, who believed in holiday traditions and time spent with family.
Gross.
Did no one, besides me, remember that Santa ran on a tight schedule? We were just under the thirty day countdown to C Day. Candy canes, if the latest numbers were correct, we were barely going to make quota deadlines as it was. Taking off four days for a human holiday was beyond ridiculous.
Even after six years I still wasn’t completely on board with this new development in Santa’s Village.
Well, technically only five years. Nik had met Keegan on Thanksgiving six years ago, but it wasn’t until the next year that Keegan had insisted on celebrating the holiday.
And then insisted that everyone in the village should be allowed to celebrate it too.
Though, truthfully, I did enjoy having the workshop all to myself for those four days. I got so much done while the workshop was empty of elves. I’d even begun looking forward to it every year.
Sure, I got roped into spending Thanksgiving dinner with Nik, Keegan, and their respective families, but then I usually escaped back to my office.
And I did love seeing Kacey and Kieran, Nik and Keegan’s kids.
I was Uncle Bal, even if we weren’t blood related.
Nik and I were more like brothers than my own siblings, and his parents, Kris and Oliver, had always treated me like a second son.
My cellphone rang, and I visibly winced seeing my mom’s name on the caller ID. For a second, panic sat in, and I literally wasn’t sure if I should accept the call or send it to voicemail. Like I had the last five times she had called.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my parents, I did. But my family was a lot. Elves had exceedingly long lifespans, aged incredibly slowly, and my parents really loved one another. To the tune of creating more siblings for me than I could count.
No, seriously, I stopped counting at seventy-five and that had been oh…
two hundred or so years ago. There seemed to be more added to the mix anytime I did venture home.
I was the oldest, and while I knew my siblings closest to me in age, I honestly had no idea how many had been added in the last hundred years or so, let alone all their names.
It was my job to keep track of Santa’s naughty and nice list for the entire world. I couldn’t possibly be expected to keep track of all my siblings’ names and ages.
Blowing out a breath, I ran a hand through my long silver locks, then against my better judgement I hit the accept button. She would just keep calling if I didn’t eventually pick up. Or worse, call Kris or Oliver, and that would be…I didn’t need Pops, as we all called Oliver, riding my ass.
Putting the call on speaker, so I could have my hands free and maybe still get some work done, I answered the call.
“Hi Mom.”
“Oh, candy canes, you’re not dead after all!
” My mom, Fallon, shrieked into the phone, making me glad I had chosen to put the phone on speaker and didn’t have it right next to my ear.
In her defense she was probably just trying to be heard over the deafening ruckus coming through the line that made me wince.
“Atlas! Atlas! Balfour answered the phone!”
“I want to talk to him!” A female voice, sounding like a small child, yelled. This was followed by “Me too!” and “Let me talk to him!” and “I asked first!”
The loud arguments dimmed, so mom must have moved to a different room, leaving the plethora of my much, much younger siblings behind.
“Why would I be dead?” I inquired drolly, squinting at the number on my computer screen in horror.
That couldn’t be correct. Running my eyes down the column, I realized it wasn’t, and my pounding heart slowed a little.
Someone had put a decimal in the wrong place.
Quickly fixing the mistake, I barely realized my mom was speaking and likely had been for a few seconds.
“…we’re having dinner around four. Now I know you already have plans with the Kringles, and that’s perfectly fine, but we would love it if you would maybe stop by for some dessert.
Your father and I haven’t seen you in forever, and we understand you are going into your super-duper busy time of year. ”
What in all of Santa’s Village was she going on about?
Spreadsheet fixed and looking as it should, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes. “What’s happening?”
She sighed loudly into the phone, complete with her aggravated parent tone added. She might have been talking even longer than I had assumed. Oops.
“I said,” she sighed loudly, disgruntled that I had positively not been listening, “we have decided to embrace all of these lovely human traditions The Santa’s mate has brought with him, and we are having Thanksgiving dinner this year.
Most of your siblings will be here. Well, Zion and Zeb can’t make it.
They are traipsing around…somewhere. Honestly, I can’t remember what nonsense they are up to or in what realm. ”
“At least they make an effort to call,” my dad’s deep baritone cut in. “Even when they are halfway around the world. Of course, their job isn’t as important as yours, but you do live in the same village as us.”
“Now, Atlas,” Mom soothed softly, “We said we weren’t going to guilt trip him.”
“Hmmfff,” Dad hummed into the phone. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one utilizing the speaker, so I had better make sure to not insult any of my siblings. Some of those younger ones lived for tattling.
“You’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner?” I was suspicious knowing neither of my parents cooked. Well, not well anyway.
“I said so, didn't I?” Now her annoyed tone was in her words and not just her sighs.
Since I couldn’t very well admit to not having been listening, I said nothing.
“Anyway, we would love it if you could stop by for some dessert,” Mom continued, “I’ve ordered some pies from the Village restaurant. Pumpkin, apple, and something else. Oh, I can’t remember. Atlas, what did I order?”
“I don’t know, Fallon, I wasn’t with you, now was I?”
Since this kind of conversation could go on for a while with my parents, I cut in, “I’m not sure. I’m pretty busy, I have dinner already planned with–”
“Yes, yes, with the Kringles,” Mom tsked. “I’ve already spoken to Oliver and Keegan, and they said they are planning dinner for noon so there shouldn’t be a problem with you having dessert with us. Keegan said he was going to insist, in fact.”
Oh, Keegan did, did he? That little, ginger human omega and I were going to have words about this.
“And Keegan said the workshop is closed from Thanksgiving until Monday,” Mom continued, effectively thwarting my next excuse of having to work. “He said everyone was expected to enjoy the holiday, and that included you.”
Pursing my lips into a tight line, I muttered, “Did he?”
“He did.” Mom was certainly an elf on a mission today, and I was strongly regretting answering this call.
“So, we’ll expect you between five and six for some pie.
Oh, and Balfour, wear something nice. I’ve invited our pretty neighbor.
She is just lovely and she’s single. You’re not getting any younger, you know, and we would like grandchildren soon. ”
Blinking rapidly, I was sure the neurons in my brain were rapidly misfiring. Did my mother just basically tell me she had fixed me up on a blind date? On Thanksgiving?
What the actual mistletoe?!
“You have grandchildren,” I reminded her, while searching my brain to remember if that was actually true.
Surely one of my siblings in the last four hundred years had spawned?
Didn’t I get some kind of birth announcement in the mail about a hundred years ago from…
who the fuck had sent it? One of my brothers, I was almost positive.
“It’s not the same,” Mom told me, explaining in what could only be some kind of strange mom logic, “It’s different when it’s your firstborn’s child, and you, my wonderful son, are our first born. So, let’s get on with this, shall we?”
That was going to be a hard pass on that. Kids were…not my thing. Sure, I was the head elf in Santa’s workshop, and I was in charge of The List, but that didn’t mean I necessarily liked kids. They were okay, but I didn’t want any of my own.
Kacey was about the only kid I could tolerate for any amount of time.
Kacey had stolen my heart the minute she had been born and had yet to give it back.
The same thing happened when her baby brother was born.
They were the two exceptions to kids I could tolerate to be around for more than five minutes.
It was why I avoided my parents’ house. There were too many kids…everywhere. Talking, yelling, crying, running, wanting attention all the time. Just thinking about it made me cringe.
No, thank you.
“Mom, do not fix me up on blind dates.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Why? Are you seeing someone?” She sounded way too hopeful at the prospect.