2
C hristopher Kringle eased back in his old creaky chair, placing his feet up on his desk. He released a long sigh, then closed his eyes. A quick nap wouldn’t hurt. After all, the Zoom call with his grandkids had gone well. Everyone was working hard, and the workshops were chugging along on schedule. With Christmas less than three months away, it paid to stay on top of things.
“Sleeping on the job again, Dad?”
Christoper bolted upright. Shelly, his daughter, stood in the doorway, hands on hips and an amused look in her eyes. “You caught me,” Christopher admitted, chuckling. “What can I do for you?”
Shelly entered the office and perched on the corner of his desk after removing a stack of papers and setting them on the floor. “Well, since you asked, you could clean your office.”
Christoper rolled his eyes. “Now, Shelly, you know that in spite of its appearance, my office is organized. At least to me.”
“It's more like a shrine to Christmas past,” Shelly countered, picking up a snow globe and shaking it. She gave Christopher a small smile, her face growing serious. “I'm worried about you, Dad. You really ought to think about retiring. There's more to life than work, you know.”
More to life than work? His life was his work. “And let you swoop in and steal my job as head Santa?” he deflected with a joke, wagging his finger at her. “Not a chance. Besides, what would I do with myself? Play shuffleboard in Boca?”
“You don't think I could do the job?” Shelly countered.
“Of course, you could do it. Both you and your brother are more than capable.”
“So what's stopping you, then? You could travel and visit your grandkids for something other than work. You could discover a new hobby.”
Christoper stroked his white beard. A life beyond Santa duties? What would that even look like? What would he do with all his time alone? Golf? Sure, he enjoyed a game now and then, but he needed to keep busy. No, he couldn't picture it, waking up every morning with nothing to do. The thought terrified him. “This is what I was born to do.”
“It's what we were all born to do.”
She was right. Was it fair to hang on when his son or daughter could take over? They were both more than competent. In fact, he had no doubt they'd excel. “I know. But I'm not ready to hang up my Santa hat yet. There's still plenty of Christmas spirit left in this old sleigh, you know.”
“I know, and I'm not trying to push you out or make you feel like you can't do it anymore. I simply think that you deserve to go out and have some fun. There's a big world out there. Don't you want to discover it?”
Christopher shuffled papers on his desk. The world beyond. That was something he'd not thought about since his Meridith… He shook his head, remembering her smile and the playful glint in her eyes. He closed his eyes momentarily as the ache of loss washed over him. There were some things Christmas magic couldn't fix.
As if reading his mind, Shelly reached across the desk and took his hand. “I know you miss Mom, but filling the void with work is unhealthy. She wouldn't want that.”
Christopher nodded. Meridith would want him to retire and hand the reins over to his children.
“She would want you to find something that sparks a new passion.”
He gave Shelly a slow nod. “Yes, yes. I know. I tell you what. I'll think about it after Christmas.”
“You've been saying that for years.”
“Well, this time, I mean it.”
“You've been saying that for years, too.”
Christopher glared at her over the top of his glasses.
Shelly held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, but how about we make a deal? You try at least one new thing between now and Christmas, and I promise I won't mention retirement again until the new year.”
“The lead-up to Christmas is not a good time. You know that.”
“I'm well aware. But you'll always find an excuse. Besides, this will let Adam and I take on more responsibility before it's time for us to retire. Let us prove we are ready to fill your big black boots.”
Christopher had to admit he wasn't being fair to either of his children. Perhaps the time had come for him to pass on the reins. However, he wasn't sure which one to choose. That was a decision he hoped would work itself out. With a groan, he stood and walked across the room, stepping over piles of paper and around antique furniture. He needed to clean his office before he injured himself. “Coffee?” he asked his daughter as he filled his mug.
“No, thanks.”
He rested against the bureau and took a sip. “I'll think about it. That's all I can promise. Just don't go planning your coronation as Chief Operating Santa quite yet.”
Shelly chuckled. “I wouldn't dream of it. Besides, I don't look good in red. Adam, on the other hand—”
“Glad to see that you've worked it all out without me,” he said with feigned annoyance. At least that Christmas wish came true.
Shelly left his office after giving him a peck on the cheek, and he returned to his desk, nearly tripping over the binder of this year's candy order. He really needed to stop using paper. It's not that he was a technophobe. Far from it, but he liked to see things, to hold them in his hands. Perhaps that's why his office was jam-packed, full of both work and memorabilia.
He picked the glass paperweight off his desk and stared into it as if it would provide answers. The paperweight had been his grandfather's. The desk had been handed down through the generations. The globe had belonged to his mother. Shelly was right in her assessment of his office. It was indeed a shrine to Christmas past. For the first time, Christopher wondered if his grip on the past was so strong that he'd sacrificed his future.