CHAPTER TWO
THE BIG CITY
Avery returned to her apartment and flipped a switch.
Not the switch for the overhead light, but the comically large Master Christmas Switch, the one connected to the giant surge protector which powered the hundreds of Christmas lights, trains, and other electric holiday novelties stationed throughout her already fully-decorated home.
As soon as she’d given away her last full-sized candy bars to the trick-or-treaters the night before, she’d donned her Santa hat, taken the neatly labeled plastic bins full of lights and decorations out of her closet, and gotten to work creating her annual winter wonderland.
Like her mom and grandmother always did.
She looked around appraisingly at the glowing, blinking, twinkling masterpiece that surrounded her.
A nagging feeling in her gut insisted that something was missing.
Everything was in its place, but she felt emptier than she should, like an unstuffed stocking over the fireplace on Christmas morning.
Avery slowly made her way down the hall, running her fingertips along the framed photos on the wall: precious images of childhood Christmases never to be recreated.
She, her mom, and her grandmother were decorating the tree.
Baking cookies. Singing carols. And there were three dozen souvenir photos of Avery, her mom, and the Candle Emporium Santa Claus, one from each of her visits, arranged in chronological order.
She walked past them, from youngest to oldest, watching herself age over the course of just a few moments.
It was the same day each year, at the same candle store, with the same Santa.
For the first time, she saw the photo collection not as a celebration of tradition, but as a sign of stagnation.
She missed the old days. But now she also ached for something new.
She sniffed the air. Cookies. Surely that’s what was missing.
Avery went straight into the kitchen and got out her mixing bowls and chocolate chips.
She had a Christmas Cookie candle in her shopping bag, but she needed the real thing.
As she bent down to slide the cookie tray into the oven, something fell out of the front pocket of her blouse.
The green-and-gold business card from Santa shimmered up at her from the red and white checkered tile floor.
She picked up the card, set a timer for the cookies, and went over to her computer.
The web address on the card took her to a contact form.
“Dear Recruiter,” she typed. “Good evening. I was given your card by Santa Claus at the Candle Emporium outside the Big City. I’m a lawyer looking for a new, more Christmassy opportunity. He suggested I reach out to you.
Thank you for your time, and happy holidays,
Avery”
A message box appeared almost instantly in the lower-right corner of the webpage. It said:
“Good evening, Avery. I'm Louis. Thank you for reaching out. Santa sent you to the right place. This career placement service is both confidential and complimentary. Would you like to have a chat?”
Avery pursed her lips, eyeing the message box with suspicion. She asked: “Is this a real person, or a robot?”
Louis responded: “One of my best friends is a robot, Avery. I assure you, I’m human. But if it would make you feel better, you can send me your résumé, and I can follow up another way to verify my non-robotic credentials.”
She let out a small chuckle. What did she have to lose? Besides, Santa wouldn’t send her to a scammer. She uploaded her résumé to the chat box. Five seconds later, her phone rang.
“Hello?” Avery answered cautiously.
“Terribly sorry,” a man apologized in a worried British accent, “but is this Avery Hoarfrost? The Avery Hoarfrost?”
Avery blushed, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips.
“Um, yes, that’s me,” she said, audibly smiling.
“Oh, do forgive me,” he pleaded, “but your number was at the top of your résumé, and I simply had to call. This is Louis, your recruiter. Avery bloody Hoarfrost, blimey. The phenom who won an injunction against the terrible toy factory that terminated all its workers right before Christmas, and you got them back to work, didn’t you? ”
“Uh, yes, well, my team and I,” she modestly explained.
“I need to ask…You led the effort to stop the expressway from being built through that orphanage. And not finished there, made sure all the orphans were matched with millionaires who couldn’t conceive, so all the children had homes for the holidays?”
“Ah, the Warbucks Initiative. Yes, that was me,” Avery answered, fondly admiring the group photo on her desk of herself surrounded by happy, freshly adopted children.
“And didn’t you help shut down that illegal reindeer hunting operation in Alaska?” he asked, voice brimming with excitement.
“No one has ever described my career with such enthusiasm,” Avery said, sitting up straighter at her desk, entertained and flattered by Louis’ familiarity with her proudest successes. “Have you been following me?”
"Like any recruiter, I have a bucket list of dream clients,” Louis confessed, “but truly, Ms. Hoarfrost, I did not even bother bucketing you because I never thought...I am truly starstruck, let's put it that way. Could we please meet for coffee?"
Avery was tickled. But she winced at the idea of a time-consuming interview process.
“Um, as you might imagine, my schedule is pretty demanding. I get to work unreasonably early, and I leave after the coffee shops close. I have a trial I have to start preparing for. Honestly, the only free time I have is the next few hours, and I doubt—”
Louis jumped in. “Let me take you to dinner then. Tell me your favorite restaurant in the Big City, and I will meet you there.”
Avery's egg timer rang assertively in the kitchen. She stood up and walked to the oven, taking out a batch of perfectly baked cookies. The smell of vanilla and butter and chocolate flew out of the oven, washing over her, priming her appetite.
“You know what? Sure,” she said, letting her stomach do the talking. “Let’s do it.”
Three hours later, Avery was at a table eating Chinese food across from the single most charming man she’d ever met, laughing harder than she’d laughed in recent memory.
Louis radiated kindness. His bright green eyes sparkled with understanding as he hung on Avery’s every word.
What she thought was chestnut brown hair proved to be ginger in the soft light of the restaurant, revealing matching freckles on the bridge of his nose.
His perfectly tailored suit highlighted his broad chest and athletic build.
While his manners and the stories he shared with her made clear that he was well-traveled and experienced, there was an optimism about him that bordered on innocence.
Avery sat across from him, enchanted, fighting twin urges to both protect him and shred him to ribbons.
“Oh, Ms. Hoarfrost, this is like Christmas Day. We should be wearing paper hats.”
“Paper hats?” Avery asked, still laughing, covering her mouth with her napkin while she chewed the last of her egg roll which, despite now being cold, was the best tasting food she'd had in six months.
“From the Christmas crackers!” Louis exclaimed.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked.
“Goodness,” he said. “That’s right, we’re in America.
A Christmas cracker is a small cardboard tube with a tiny firecracker inside.
And you have to work with someone else to tug it apart, and it goes ‘crack!’ And then inside, there’s a paper crown, and you wear it during Christmas dinner. And there’s a small gift. And a joke.”
“A joke?” Avery asked, tilting her head, fascinated by Louis’ seemingly bottomless enthusiasm for all things Christmas. He was giving her a run for her money.
“Yes! Printed on paper, sort of like a message inside a fortune cookie,” he said, picking up one of the plastic-wrapped cookies the waiter had left when he brought their check over an hour ago.
Avery had lost track of time completely; she hadn’t checked her watch once during the entire meal.
They swapped stories of Christmases from their childhoods; about her unbroken tradition with Santa at the candle store; about how neither of them really liked eggnog but were too ashamed to admit it.
Louis shared Avery’s frustration with those who value money over happiness; he couldn’t hear enough about her time in Alaska lobbying for the reindeer; and he was the only person she had encountered who seemed to rival her encyclopedic knowledge of Christmas movies.
She’d never felt so at ease with a stranger.
Avery had been grinning so hard for so long that her face hurt. She wasn’t used to smiling this much in a professional setting. If this had been a date, it would have been the best she’d ever had.
Louis cracked open the fortune cookie and pulled out the strip of paper inside. “Ah, exactly, thank you,” he said to the cookie. He looked up at Avery, who stared back at him quizzically.
“Why are Christmas trees bad at sewing?” Louis read from the paper, barely suppressing a laugh.
Avery arched an eyebrow and tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t know, Louis, why are Christmas trees bad at sewing?”
He leaned forward, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “Because they’re always dropping their needles!” he finished in a whisper.
Avery paused before a laugh burst out of her. She shook her head in amazement.
Then she sighed and dropped her smile.
“What is it?” Louis asked, a portrait of concern.
“I miss Christmas with my family. Mom and Grandma, specifically.” Avery surprised herself with her confession.
“I don’t know my father. It’s just me now, and Christmas is the only thing keeping me going.
But Christmas doesn’t even seem right this year, without them.
Without Mom. I feel like the only person who really gets me is,” she shifted in her chair, refolding her napkin, “a candle store Santa Claus.”
She risked a look up at Louis, who was rapt.