Chapter 47
JOY
In the midst of chaos, I was mentally calculating how to break the news to a hundred disappointed children that Santa wasn’t coming. Maybe I could convince them I was his cousin from down south.
No, the children would eat me alive. Maybe I could bribe them. I had already given out candy and cocoa, so that wouldn’t work. How much money did I have in my purse? Probably not a lot, considering my recent struggles. Not enough to pay off this rowdy bunch.
I briefly considered letting Gertrude loose and letting the goat send everyone running home. Sorry, folks. Livestock hazard. We have to shut down. It was tempting.
I started calculating the distance to my car. How fast could I run? Maybe I wouldn’t even go home and pack my things. I had my purse and credit cards. I would get in my car and just drive. I would buy new clothes, dye my hair, tell people my name was Charlotte.
I wanted to apologize to my aunt. And the mayor. And everyone else. I just didn’t know what to say.
I spotted Sarah. She was handing out candy canes and doing her best to placate the restless crowd. Soon they would be sharpening those candy canes into points. I walked to her and jerked my head to get her to step away.
Sarah immediately picked up on my urgency and followed me a few steps away from the nearest cluster of families.
“We need a Santa,” I said without preamble, keeping my voice low but unable to hide the panic creeping in. “Pat’s not coming. Do you know anyone who could step in? Anyone at all?”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “What happened? I don’t understand. He would never do this. I’m worried about him.”
“I don’t know, but he’s not here and he’s not answering his phone. We have about five minutes before this crowd starts pelting us with peppermint sticks.”
Sarah pulled out her phone and started scrolling frantically. “I sent out some emergency texts when we couldn’t reach Pat. Let me see.” She tapped the screen several times. “Okay, Johnny Morris from over in Cedar Creek says he could do it. He’s done Santa gigs before.”
“How far away is he?”
“Thirty minutes, maybe forty with festival traffic.”
I felt my stomach drop even further. “Sarah, we don’t have thirty minutes. We have five minutes, maybe ten if we’re lucky. Look at this crowd.”
I gestured toward the line of families. Even from our position, I could see the restlessness building.
Children were tugging on parents’ sleeves with increasing frequency, parents were checking their phones and glancing toward the empty Santa workshop with growing concern, and I could hear snippets of conversation that made it clear word was starting to spread that something was wrong.
“What about someone local?” I asked desperately. “Anyone with the right build who could throw on the costume? Your husband? Your brother? Someone’s dad?”
Sarah looked around helplessly. “My husband’s too skinny, and he’s terrible with children anyway. My brother lives in Phoenix. I’m trying to think of who else.” She snapped her fingers. “What about Dave from the hardware store?”
“I already considered him. He’s been hitting the spiked cider pretty hard tonight. No drunk Santas.”
“Right, good call.” Sarah continued scanning the crowd. “Oh! What about Mr. Carlson from the bank? He’s got the belly for it.”
I followed her gaze to where Mr. Peterson was standing with his family near the hot chocolate station. He was definitely round enough, but something about his demeanor suggested he wasn’t exactly the jolly type.
“Do you think he’d do it? And more importantly, do you think he’d be good with kids?”
“I honestly don’t know. He’s always seemed kind of grumpy to me, but maybe that’s just his banker face.”
I was running out of options and time. The children at the front of the line were getting increasingly antsy, and I could see parents starting to have those hushed conversations that usually preceded much louder complaints.
“What about a costume?” I asked. “Where are we going to find a costume? I hope someone here has one in their closet.”
She slowly shook her head. “We didn’t plan for this contingency. Pat is such a professional, we didn’t think it would be an issue.”
We were screwed.
I turned to address the line, feeling like I was facing a firing squad. The crowd suddenly parted like the Red Sea. I saw a vision of red. No way.
Santa.
Everyone cheered. Relief flooded through my veins with the intensity of a powerful drug. Fucking Pat Samson knew how to make a dramatic entrance, I’d give him that. Leave it to him to build suspense right up until the last possible moment.
The jolly figure made his way through the crowd with theatrical grandeur, waving to children and calling out “Ho ho ho!” in a voice that carried across the square. Parents gushed with relief and children jumped up and down with excitement.
I felt like I could finally breathe again.
Santa settled into his elaborate chair in front of the workshop, adjusting his red coat and stroking his white beard with a great deal of showmanship.
The first family in line began to approach, but I hurried over to check in with him first. We needed to coordinate the flow of visitors and make sure he had everything he needed.
“Pat, thank God you made it,” I started, but before I could finish the sentence, Santa reached out and pulled me down onto his lap with surprising strength.
“Ho ho ho! And have you been a good girl this year?” he asked in a voice that was deeper than Pat’s usual Santa impression.
I was about to tell Pat Samson to go fuck himself for the inappropriate manhandling when I looked into his eyes and froze. Those weren’t Pat’s twinkling eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses. These were beautiful blue eyes that I knew as well as my own reflection.
“Cooper,” I whispered, completely stunned. “What the hell is going on?”
“Pat fell and hurt his knee on the way in,” he explained quietly. “I got him off to the hospital, and I knew you needed a Santa. So here I am. Merry Christmas.”
The relief and gratitude that washed over me was overwhelming. Cooper had seen a problem, seen that I needed help, and had stepped in without hesitation. He had shown up when I needed him most.
I found myself cuddling into him a little, loving the feel of his strong arms around me even through the bulky costume. It felt safe and warm and like coming home after a long journey.
Then I remembered that approximately fifty children and their parents were watching us. I quickly scooted to a more appropriate seating arrangement on the edge of his lap. I did not want the new rumor to include me getting a little too touchy-feely with Santa.
“Cooper Frost in a Santa suit,” I said softly, still processing the surreal situation. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Technically, I was in half a Santa suit that night in city hall,” he replied with that dry humor that always made me smile.
The memory of our snow-delayed evening hit me with unexpected heat. I leaned close to his ear, letting my breath tickle the edge of his fake beard.
“Later, I’m going to strip this suit off you like the last one,” I whispered.
Cooper’s grip on my waist tightened. “Stop,” he murmured back, “or else no one else is sitting on my lap tonight.”
I laughed despite myself and stood up, doing my best to try and regain some professional composure. We had work to do.
“Alright, everyone,” I called to the waiting families.
“Santa’s almost ready to hear all your Christmas wishes!
Remember, after you visit with Santa, you can walk through the workshop and pick out a special gift to take home.
Sorry for the delay, but the best things in life are worth waiting for, right? ”
They all seemed to agree. The next hour passed in a blur of delighted children, patient parents, and Christmas magic.
Cooper threw himself into the role with surprising enthusiasm, listening carefully to each child’s wishes and responding with exactly the kind of warmth and attention that made the experience special.
A little girl wanted a pony that could fly.
Cooper told her he’d have to check with the reindeer about flight training protocols.
A boy asked for a robot that could do his homework.
Santa explained that robots were only allowed to help, not do the work entirely, because learning was important.
When a shy three-year-old whispered that she wanted her daddy to come home from deployment, Cooper’s voice gentled as he promised to send extra Christmas magic to keep her family safe.
Parents took photos, children selected gifts from the donated toy collection, and the whole workshop hummed with exactly the kind of joy I had envisioned when I first planned this event.
Watching Cooper interact with the families, seeing him bring such care and attention to his improvised role, made my chest tight with emotions I didn’t know how to deal with.
And I was being a very naughty elf with my less than clean thoughts. I was kind of leaning into the idea he kept the beard on while I rode him.
Did that make me a freak?
Maybe. I didn’t care. I was definitely going to have that man naked by the end of the night. Everything was going perfectly until I spotted a familiar figure hovering near the edge of the crowd.
Lynn.
She stood just outside the main circle of families, watching the Santa interactions with a stormy expression. She was dressed impeccably as always, but I had no doubt she was there to stir up more shit. My stomach clenched with dread. Couldn’t she just leave us the hell alone for once?
I tried to position myself between her and the workshop, hoping she’d get the hint and move along. But Lynn began moving closer to Santa’s chair. Whatever she was planning, it wasn’t going to be good for anyone involved.
My mind raced. Garlic kept away vampires, silver bullets stopped werewolves, but what would ward off a scheming little skank who wouldn’t mind her own business? Throwing hot cocoa in her face might work.
Before I could find out, a strong hand gripped my shoulder. Cooper had noticed her too, and even through the Santa costume, his presence felt solid and reassuring.
“Let me handle this once and for all,” he said quietly.
“No,” I murmured. “You can’t.”
“I can and I will. This ends now.”
“Cooper—”