by T Lockhaven
George shook his head and laughed. “Does it come with matching slippers?”
“No, but in case I don’t get a chance to come sit on your lap, you’ll know what I want for Christmas,” Michael teased. “George,” he nodded, “it’s always good to see you. I’ve been banished to the kitchen, so I’m gonna get back to my balls.”
Ellie turned to George and shook her head as Michael headed back to the kitchen. “I’m not sure if he sets himself up like that on purpose or if he’s really that naïve.”
“Sausage balls,” Michael yelled from the kitchen. “Get your minds out of the gutter.”
“Perhaps it’s a little of both,” George suggested playfully. He paused and inhaled. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“George,” she asked delicately, “are you doing okay? We saw that God-awful video on the news, and you’ve been on our minds ever since.”
“I’m all right. Well, I’m not all right, I guess I just feel—”
“Unwanted?” Michael suggested, returning to the room with a pan of sizzling sausage balls.
Ellie gave Michael a what-is-your-problem look and smacked him on the back of the head.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Well, I was going for betrayed.” George’s voice caught in his throat. “But I guess unwanted would fit in there just as well, too.”
“See?” Michael gestured with a spatula, “He said unwanted, so, we’re all on the same page.”
“Don’t you have something to do…in the kitchen, maybe outside?” Olivia chided.
“My apologies.” Michael bowed and backed his way out of the living room into the kitchen.
“He’s a strange man,” George said thoughtfully.
“Olivia and I prefer to call him mysteriously unique.”
“He’s a work in progress, like most men.” Olivia laughed, scrunching up her nose.
“So,” Ellie prompted, “the guests are going to be here soon. What can we do to help?”
George’s gaze fell to the floor. “I’ve been thinking about all of this drama. I’m getting old, maybe it’s just my time, Ellie. I’ve never blown up like that before. It was shameful.” He shook his head. “Just shameful. I’ve been Santa here in Lana Cove for over forty years, before you were even born.”
“And you still are, to me, to Olivia, to the people here in Lana Cove. Why would you say that it’s your time? You know that’s not true. You bring so much happiness and joy to people’s lives—”
“Then why would they fire me from the mall? And now my reputation is ruined. You know how this world is; everything is perception. They don’t even care about reality or the truth anymore.”
“Did something happen at the mall? What reason did they give you for firing you? Why would they hire,” she could barely bring herself to say the words, “another Santa?”
“Nothing! I’d been working at the mall just like always, when suddenly, out of the blue, I receive a phone call from Ed Reed’s secretary telling me I was fired. A phone call, Ellie! They didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face.”
“I’m so sorry,” was all Ellie could muster, her mind searching for the right words to say, the right questions to ask.
“And, as if that wasn’t the worst of it,” George continued, “since that darn television station played that video, several of my biggest clients cancelled on me. I even lost the Bernstein account.”
“Oh.” Ellie felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.
The Bernstein Gala was an incredible annual event held at the Bernstein Mansion. A multi-million-dollar oceanfront estate that had been featured on the Travel Channel and The Homes of the Rich and Famous series. Every year the Bernsteins held a raffle, and fifty families were invited from around Lana Cove to come feast and celebrate Christmas. George had been a part of the celebration for the past twenty years.
“Robert…Mr. Bernstein,” George clarified, “told me that the events on television would tarnish his reputation. He didn’t want anything to ruin the pristine perception of his perfect party. So he hired the new Santa…Drew Small.”
“Who the heck is this Drew Small guy? It’s like he just appeared and all of a sudden he started claiming Santa rights.”
“He doesn’t even have a real beard!” George exclaimed. “But,” he said, his face turning red, “you probably already know that.”
“Yeah.” Ellie smiled affectionately. “So, you have no idea who this guy is?”
“None, and believe me, I checked. He’s not a member of the official Santa union, and he’s not a member of the official Santa’s Facebook page or the North Pole Answering service. The local post office brings children’s letters—addressed to Santa—to me, and I answer them,” George explained. He must have seen the confused expression on Ellie’s face.
“That’s really sweet. I had no idea that was even a thing.”
“What’s really sweet?” Olivia asked, balancing two trays of holiday cookies on her arms. “Don’t say it, Michael,” she yelled toward the kitchen.
“He was going to say you are, wasn’t he?” George asked.
“If you look up predictable in the dictionary….”
“You’ll find his picture.” Ellie sighed.
“Guilty.” Michael laughed, stepping into the living room, wiping his hands on his apron.
“George was telling me….” She paused and turned to George to make sure it was okay to continue.
He nodded and gestured for her to keep going.
“That a man named Drew Small took his job at the mall and the Bernstein Estate.”
“Drew Small.” Michael chuckled. “He’s just lucky his first name isn’t Richard.” He glanced expectantly from Ellie to George to Olivia. “Not funny?”
“Not in the slightest,” Ellie replied.
“Fine, how about the name Drew Small, sounds like someone who specializes in miniature works of art. A gunslinger with tiny pistols?”
“Currently he’s specializing in making George’s life miserable,” Ellie chided, “and you’re not helping.”
“I’m belittling him, that’s gotta be somewhat helpful. Fine, George, you said Ed Reed’s secretary called and gave you the news. Did you try to get in touch with him personally?”
“Of course, Ed’s an incredibly busy man. He’s in charge of all of the special events around the city. He and I worked on the Santa extravaganza for years. I’ve tried calling, I’ve left messages, I’ve texted him. So far, nothing. I honestly don’t know what happened.”
“Were there any complaints? Any angry parents? Anything that would cause them to fire you?” Ellie inquired delicately.
“Nothing. I never heard so much as a peep of anyone being upset. I woke up Thursday morning, got dressed to go to the mall—and that’s when I got the phone call, letting me know I’d been fired. I knew there had to be some kind of mistake. I tried to get Ed on the phone, but it kept going to his voicemail, so I headed to the mall to figure out what had happened.”
“So, you were never able to talk to Ed in person?” Ellie prompted.
“No. That was the craziest part. Ellie, you don’t just fire someone after forty years. I went to Ed’s office, but Jan, his secretary, told me he wasn’t there. I knew he was there. I could see a light under his door, and I saw his shadow under the doorway. Ed was there….”
“Okay, so Ed wouldn’t talk to you, then what did you do?” Michael asked.
“Well, I figured if Ed wasn’t going to talk to me, I would try to talk to the new Santa, you know, maybe he would be nice enough to at least tell me what was going on.”
“Okay.” Ellie nodded. “Go on.”
“So….” George’s face turned red. “I went to the men’s restroom, across from the employee breakroom. I figured he’d have to come there and change. We weren’t allowed to wear our Santa suit outside the mall,” he clarified. “Imagine my surprise when this kid in his thirties comes in and dumps his Santa suit out onto the bathroom floor from
a black trash bag. The disrespect….” George huffed. “He would have been kicked out of the NSU instantly. National Santa Union. That suit,” George emphasized, “is sacred, and it’s an honor to wear it.”
“Completely understood.” Ellie nodded again. “And you confronted Drew?”
“Well, not so much confronted him. I asked him how he got the job, and he told me to mind my own business.”
“Did he know who you were?”
“No, not until I told him. I let him know that I was the original Santa and that I’d been fired. I told him I just wanted to know why. So instead of being a decent human being, the kid laughed in my face and told me to stop harassing him or he’d call security.”
“Let me guess,” Michael said, “you tried to reason with him.”
“I asked him, nicely, if he had any idea why I was fired. He got all angry and said something like ‘Suit yourself, old man.’ He threw his trash bag to the floor and stormed out of the restroom. Next thing I know, two security guards showed up and asked me to leave, like I was a criminal or something.”
“Only you didn’t,” Michael prodded gently.
“No, I know I should have…but as you know, hindsight is twenty-twenty. So, I went to my car and sat there. I should have left.” George shook his head. “Because the longer I sat there, the angrier I got. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, I just needed some answers, so I snuck in through the employee entrance, made my way to the winter wonderland set—the set that I created—and when I saw him, and the children and the elf…I just lost it. I wasn’t trying to hurt the guy.”
George stared at the floor. “The rest, well, you’ve seen the video. After that, I was escorted out of the building and banned from the mall.”
“That’s a bit much,” Olivia said, angrily shaking her head.
“You devote so much of your life…and in the blink of an eye, it’s taken away from you,” Ellie exclaimed.
“Seems like ripping a beard off a person, parading around and waving it in the air like it’s your enemy’s head is frowned upon.” George said.
“All right, guys, I don’t get it. None of this makes sense. Ellie, you, Olivia, and George have lived here in Lana Cove for eons, more of a statement than a question,” Michael explained. “George, you grew up here, and you’re like a hundred years old.”
Ellie flashed an annoyed look at Michael.
“Okay, fine, ninety,” Michael apologized. “My question is, do any of you know if there is a family of Smalls living in Lana Cove?”
The group immediately shook their heads in unison.
“So,” Michael continued, “this guy just shows up, to a small town and starts taking all of the Santa gigs and besmirching our friend? No one sees this as being incredibly odd?”
“Yes, but a huge part of our community is made up of transplants. You showed up and said you quit your job in Boston, and gave up everything to become a mystery writer, and no one thought that was strange,” Olivia pointed out.
“Well, of course not, just look at me, I am the literal personification of a successful writer, so not too much of a stretch there. Plus, my job doesn’t require me to dress up as a fictional character, and it doesn’t only pay one month out of a year.”
“True.” Olivia bobbed her head. “Yours pays in imaginary money—from the future.”
“I came here to start a new life after a horrible divorce, and to begin a noble career as a bestselling author. Not that being Santa isn’t noble,” Michael confirmed, nodding to George. “All I’m trying to say is, Drew is new. I didn’t do that rhyme on purpose, I’m just a natural wordsmith. We need to find out who he’s connected with here, and why he’s actually here. It would be a mistake to just think it’s a coincidence.”
“I hate to say it,” Ellie nearly choked on her words, “but Michael’s right.”
Michael dropped his cookie to the floor. “Could you give me just a second? I need to find my phone…. Okay, got it. Could you please repeat the part where you said Michael is right? Feel free to add any embellishments you deem necessary.”
Ellie continued her questions, ignoring Michael. “Does Drew have family here? How did he get the job at the mall? How did he get a job at the Bernstein’s residence? How did they even hear about him?”
“Exactly,” Michael concurred, “you completed my thoughts perfectly. If he’s not staying with family, where is he staying? And why Santa? Does he have another job? You said there was an elf with him, who is she? If I were doing character research for a book, I would want to know all of those things.”
Olivia glanced out the front window. A set of headlights turned off the road and pulled into Michael’s driveway.
“The guests are beginning to arrive,” she announced.
“That’s my cue,” George said. “Where would you like me to change?”
“In the guest bedroom,” Michael responded. “It’s the second door on the right. There’s a bathroom in there, and a treadmill should you get the urge to work off a few pounds.”
“George.” Ellie placed her hand gently on his arm as he walked away. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. But tonight, I want you to know that you are surrounded by friends and people who love you. Let’s have a good night tonight, and we’ll begin sorting things out first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Ellie…and you too, Olivia.” George smiled affectionately.
“What about me?” Michael asked, clearly feeling left out.
“Two lumps of coal for you.” George laughed as he disappeared down the hallway to get ready. “Two lumps of coal.”
“I like him.” Michael grinned. “A consummate professional, already in character.”
“Two lumps of coal,” George’s voice rang out again from the guest room.
Chapter 3
It was the perfect night for a Christmas party. A steady snow was falling, covering Lana Cove under a pristine, cottony blanket of white. Olivia had transformed Michael’s living room into a Christmas work of art. Candles were flickering in the windows, a rainbow of lights twinkling on the Christmas tree. The faux fireplace was adorned with stockings, and old-fashioned lanterns glowed on either side of the hearth.
Olivia had just finished lighting candles on the beautifully decorated table when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Ellie chirped as she opened the door for the newly arrived guests. “Andrew, Denise.” She gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “Come in, come in. I love that houndstooth jacket,” she gushed. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Ellie. Hi, Michael,” Denise said, waving.
Ellie moved aside and turned her head toward Michael. “Oh God,” she gasped.
“What?” Michael asked innocently, proudly sporting a bright-red Christmas sweater adorned with flashing colorful lights, green pants, and white patent-leather shoes. He wasn’t sure, but he swore envy filled Andrew’s eyes.
“Michael,” Ellie stammered, “what are you wearing? It’s…it’s….”
“Breathtaking?” Michael prompted. “Exquisite?”
“Abysmal.” She groaned.
“What are you talking about, El? He looks dashing,” Andrew replied, winking at Michael.
“See?” Michael gloated, empowered by Andrew’s comments. He plucked a curly pipe from his pocket and tapped it on his pants leg. “What now?” He shrugged and gave Ellie a confused glance. “It’s not a real pipe. It just adds an air of sophistication.”
“Is that George’s pipe?” Olivia asked.
“No.” Michael stared at her indignantly. “Okay, well, yes, I may have accidentally removed it from his Santa jacket when I gave him a hug.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Ellie cried. “Why can’t you dress like Andrew? Look at him: Burberry scarf, beautiful gray coat, black slacks. It’s like he just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot.”
Andrew tugged up his pants leg, revealing a bright-red pair of socks with reindeer. A mischievous, childlike grin filled his face.
“Don’t forget to add whimsical,” Andrew piped in.
“Your outfit,” she said, facing Michael, “well, there aren’t any words.”
“Hah? Your jealousy is palatable. Pure beauty is indescribable,” Michael retorted. He would have continued had the doorbell not interrupted him. “Saved by the bell,” he muttered defensively.
The living room bubbled with conversation and laughter. There was something about Christmas music that made people happy. A rollicking game of Secret Santa found Michael relinquishing his sweater in exchange for Andrew’s reindeer socks. Michael considered himself the victor—he had all but lusted over Andrew’s socks.
As the adults settled down, clustered in tiny groups, Olivia grabbed a glass and pinged it with a fork. She smiled, seemingly a little embarrassed by all of the sudden attention. “Well!” She laughed. “That was a lot more effective than I thought it would be.” She glanced around the room, addressing the children. “We have a special guest tonight.”
The children stared at her with rapt attention.
“Who?” Cindy asked, a little brown-haired, brown-eyed girl, incredibly adorable in her plush green-and-silver dress.
Olivia nodded at Michael. The children let out a chorus of dejected moans when they saw him.
“No, no, no, not him, someone special,” Olivia said.
Michael played the first notes of Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town on his piano.
The children’s eyes flew wide open, and Cindy held her hand over her mouth, barely covering her Oh! expression.
“Is it Santa Claus?” she whispered shyly.
Olivia couldn’t take it; the little girl was just too cute. “I think so!” she nodded.
Cindy threw her hands together and jumped up and down as Michael played the song.
George’s voice rang through the house. “Ho-ho-ho!”
And when he appeared in the living room, the children whispered, “Santa!”
Ellie glanced at Olivia. All of her childhood memories came flooding back to her. Just about every person in the room had visited George for Christmas. If there ever was a Santa…it was George.
