by M E Harmon
Doug pouted. “All right, that's what I'm getting paid to do. My bro here is the one who got me this gig.”
Something wasn't adding up with that comment, but I only nodded in response. “Ok, I'll see you at the pavilion in a little while.”
Joseph offered a goodbye and walked off with his brother following a step behind.
My mother and I exchanged a look.
“That was strange,” I said.
“I know, right? They're brothers? Troperman is wealthy, and his twin is almost a hobo?”
“Mom, do people still say hobo?”
She waved a hand. “You know what I mean. I got the impression from when Doug visited before that he was homeless or close to it. I didn't know he was a Troperman. Bet he's a rich hobo.”
A few shoppers strolled in. I said, “Hi, welcome. Have some complimentary eggnog and dessert.”
When they crossed to the food table, I said to my mother, “Doug might be a Troperman, but he’s not living a wealthy man's life. Not by the looks of him.”
Mom walked away to help a woman asking about an antique brooch.
I took the free minute to Google the sponsor of the Winter Wonderland Bazaar. Gosh, there's no hiding personal business on the Internet, I decided after seeing the search results. It didn't take long to find out all about Doug and Joseph Troperman.
Then it was as if a group of antiquers got off a bus somewhere. The booth was suddenly swamped with people. I stayed to help out Mom. The next half hour was spent in a flurry of answering questions and gift wrapping.
When I looked up it was almost eight o'clock. Mom's wall of tea had several noticeable gaps from sales we'd made.
My mother handed a small wrapped package to a twenty-something couple with a baby wrapped up like a mummy. “Enjoy,” she said. “Drink this when you feel a little wonky after being up all night.”
I wasn't sure exactly wonky and up all night was in reference to the baby or partying. With my mom, it could've been either.
“Mom, I’m gonna go check out the toy giveaway.”
“Checking up on Doug?”
I shrugged. “Sorta.” I had a hunch the event was going to be a whole lot more than just Santa giving away toys to kids. So yes, I was going to see how my new acquaintance was doing—and I was going to be nosy.
Sleigh Ride
What do you get when you combine children hopped up on sugar cookies and the prospect of free toys? Armageddon.
Even the parents gathered in wide-eyed clumps staring at kiddies gone wild.
Santa's Magic Land was cordoned off by a white four-foot-high picket fence. Two enormous bouncy houses shaped like snowmen sat in opposite corners. Kids hurled themselves into a ball pit when they weren't using the spheres as projectiles. Elf stations offered free face painting, crafts, and temporary tattoos.
A sign said everyone was welcome, but kids could only leave with an adult with a matching hand stamp. The dude-elf manning the gate waved me in.
Immediately, I was assailed. A four-foot body sailed out of nowhere and crashed into my legs.
“Ow!”
A kid with disheveled brown hair pivoted his face up at me. He'd stripped down to a short-sleeved t-shirt. A green reindeer sweater flapped around his neck like a cape. Red candy stains decorated the boy's mouth, and a half-eaten green gumdrop dangled precariously from his cheek. It was as if he'd shoved his little face into a candy bowl and eaten his way out.
“Sorry, lady.”
He'd stomped on my foot. My big toe was now throbbing like a dancehall reggae song, but I let it slide. “No problem, kid. Put some extra toothpaste on that brush tonight.”
He gave me a weird look but then was distracted by the calls of glee (or distress depending on your point of view) coming from the ball pit.
I pointed. “One got away.”
His little head cocked to the side as he processed what I meant. I'd assumed he'd throw the thing away. Nope. After some probing he plucked the wayward jelly candy off his cheek, inspected it, and popped it into his mouth. “Thanks, lady.”
The kid peeled away without a second glance at me. I hoped that gumdrop originally came from his mouth and not someone else's.
I glanced at my watch. It was just after eight. Santa wasn't in sight anywhere, so he was tardy despite Mr. Persimmons' involvement. I shook off the pain in my toe and headed for Santa's house. It was situated in the middle of Magic Land.
I dodged a group of boys harassing a dude-elf for more candy canes. One kid had wrapped himself around the poor guy's leg.
I said, “Hey, stop that. There's enough for everyone.”
Four heads turned simultaneously to glare at me. It was like staring at the mouths of a pack of hungry wolves. I was about to hold my ground, a bunch of eight year olds weren't going to scare me off. But a thin, bleached-blond woman emerged from the crowd.
“Jeffrey, what are you doing? You want a time out?” The boy hanging from the elf's leg flinched.
It was enough of a distraction for me to get away. I quickly walked off with a few glances behind me. The pack was dispersing. No more good Samaritan for me. If I was going to get out of Magic Land alive, I had to keep my head down and keep moving. Targets are harder to hit when they're in motion.
Santa's house was a gingerbread monstrosity, featuring frosting icicles and peppermint widows. A gold platform had been erected in front of it. The big man’s sleigh perched in the center with a sack bursting with goodies.
A crowd gathered in front of golden ropes that separated the platform from the rest of Magic Land. The parents who'd collected their young'uns glanced impatiently at cell phone clocks. The children, however, bounced up and down waiting for Santa's appearance.
Just as I'd secured a spot with a decent vantage point of the stage, the gingerbread house door opened. A cheer rose from the crowd. A lady-elf climbed three stairs and stepped onto the platform.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, without any further delay, herrrrrreeeee's Santa Claus!”
The kids went bonkers. I mean ba-na-nas. Feet stamped and hands clapped. The parents caught the happy-bug; they whistled and whooped.
Jolly 'ol St. Nick’s boots thumped on stage, and the already loud crowd, lost it. Santa was a total rock star. He high-fived people from one side of the platform to the other.
To my surprise, Doug looked good. He was steady on his feet and rocked perfectly jolly ho-ho-hos.
“Welcome, boy and girls. Welcome, parents. Who's been nice this year?”
Every small hand shot up. A chorus of small voices sang, “Me, me, me!”
Santa posed with hands on his hips. “Hmm. Was anyone naughty?”
No. No one in the crowd was naughty though I saw a few parents nudge their child.
“Well, I know for a fact everyone here has been good. And what do good little boys and girls get?”
At the top of their voices, every kid screamed, “PRESENTS!”
“Ho, Ho, Ho. That's right.” Santa climbed aboard the sleigh. He winked at the crowd. “Let's see what Santa has in his magic sack tonight.”
A flock of elves exited the gingerbread house. They took up positions next to the sleigh. The last people out the house were Doug's brother and Mr. Persimmons. They stood off to one side of the platform. Persimmons’ lips were pursed as if he was none too pleased about something. I wondered if Troperman had given him an earful.
I knew a big part of this giveaway was for children placed in foster homes throughout the city. Elves pulled gifts from the sack, and Santa read the labels for a gift picked especially for that child. It was cool watching their little faces light up when Santa Claus called their names.
Doug was a perfect Santa. He smiled, posed for pictures, and made merry banter with every child that came up on stage.
“He always loved being Santa. Even when my father ran the business.”
I turned, and Joseph Troperman stood next to me. He met my eyes briefly but then focused on his brother.
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“Ali Daniels, isn't it?”
I nodded and said hello.
“Doug spoke highly of you and your mother when we left. How do you know him?”
I moved aside as a mother guided her son for a closer view. “I have a bakery and sandwich shop opposite the park. I met Doug when he started coming over during his breaks from playing Santa.”
Joseph smirked. “Yes, I know how Doug takes breaks. I'm sure he's given you plenty of time to get to know him.” He paused. “Anyway, yes, now that I think about it, I have seen you over there when I had to find him. Cute place. Love the bee theme.”
I smiled. “Thanks. Doug's always been very friendly and respectful to me. I like him. You're brother is a good guy.”
“Thanks for saying that. I know it’s easy to tell Doug has problems.” Joseph’s voice dropped an octave. He seemed sad about what he'd just said.
“Um, so Doug likes being The Claus?”
That perked Joseph up as if a good memory had chased away a bad thought. “Oh yeah, Doug always volunteered from the time we were teens. My dad always taught giving back was important. That was even before we became a national food chain. Little did we know, Doug was going to be the one who was going to need the most help.”
Ok, now my momma raised me well. Prying was not proper manners. Oh, but how I wanted to know! I bit my bottom lip.
“I can see the question in your eyes, Ali. How does a millionaire's son end up on the streets?”
I looked him in the eye and nodded. “I had wondered. It seems like a sad story.”
Joseph shrugged. “It is, I guess. The funny thing is I was the party boy throughout school. I was the one my parents almost disowned, but it turned out to be Doug instead. He—” Joseph glanced around. When he saw everyone was focused on the stage, he continued. “I shouldn't be telling you this, but you have a kind face. And...it's been a long day. I just spent the last forty minutes shoving solids, everything from cookies to meat pies, into my brother hoping it would help him to be sober enough to get through tonight. I know he loves playing Santa, and I didn't want to pull him out. Though I'd get the pants sued off me if anyone suspected.”
He paused again. “My brother, when it matters, always pulls through. Always. Look at him. He's a great Santa. This time of year I'm so proud of him.”
He was right. Doug was doing a great job. Every kid left the stage wearing a huge smile. Santa worked the crowd, too, cracking jokes with the parents.
Joseph said, “When I cleaned up my act, my brother's fell apart. I'm sure you can guess the obvious culprit. He's been put out of the business and refuses help most of the year. Now I just do what I can when he lets me.”
My earlier Google search had pretty much told me the same thing. The Troperman family had been rewarded with success but plagued with constant family crisis, too.
I patted down all of my pockets until I found what I wanted. “Here's my card. Maybe I can help the both of you and give Doug things to do around the shop? You know, nothing stressful, like sweep, roll out dough. My partner Al is a really good influence on everyone he meets. ”
Even as I said it, logic whispered in the back of my head: hiring an alcoholic wasn't the smartest idea. Despite that I continued. “I won't make any promises other than we'll look out for him as best as we can.”
Joseph's eyes completely left his brother and met mine. His mouth moved up and down a few times before sound came out. “You don't know me...or my brother for that matter.”
I shrugged. “So? I'm blessed to have very few but incredibly loving people in my life. We have more than enough to share with anyone who is in need. I know that might sound corny but—”
“No, not corny at all.” He cleared his throat. “What would you want in return?”
I made an effort not to roll my eyes. “Nothing. Do all rich people think other people are only kind when they want something? If Doug agrees, just come by and check on him. That's all I would want.”
Joseph scratched at his neck. Red welts, like hives, dotted the back of his hand. They looked itchy and uncomfortable. I broke out just like than whenever I used perfumed soap.
He reached for the card I still had outstretched. “Pardon me if I was rude,” he said, “Yes, thank you. If Doug accepts, I'd be happy to visit to see how he’s doing.”
I watched him tuck the card away inside his coat and turn back to the platform. Santa was finishing up with the children brought by the social agencies. A line of costumed reindeer streamed out of the gingerbread house. They made their way through the crowd handing out candy cane sugar cookies. One elf took up a position next to the sleigh with a glass of milk and a plate especially for Santa.
Abruptly Joseph snapped, “Excuse me.”
“Of course,” I said, but he was already weaving his way toward the platform.
Santa held his arms out. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Who else would like a toy from Santa?”
The children who'd been waiting not so patiently up to this point went ballistic. You'd think every Disney princess, Batman and Superman rolled into one was about to make an appearance.
Santa's Magic Land was located next to the gates for the park. From where I stood I could easily see traffic passing by on Centre Street. It was from that direction I heard the tingling of a bell.
Oh no, I thought. Please don't let it be.
Santa was on stage whipping the people up into a frenzy. He grabbed a handful of candy canes from a passing elf and threw them into crowd. The kids dove for them like tiny birds of prey.
Doug stood and waved his hands in the air. “I say, here comes; you say Santa Claus! Ready? Here comes—”
“Santa Claus!”
“Here comes—“
“Santa Claus!”
Wow. Even the parents were eating this up. The noise was so loud that passersby outside the park poked their heads in to see what the ruckus was all about.
Doug held aloft a present wrapped in Buzz Lightyear paper. “I have something for a boy who's been good this year. Let me see if I can spot him!” He put a hand over his eyebrows and pretended to search the crowd. “I see lots of good boys here. You know what? You get a toy! You get a toy! Every boy gets a toy!”
Again the crowd erupted. Yet just underneath it all, I could hear a ding, ding, ding. I looked at my watch. The giveaway was supposed to last forty minutes tops. It depended on how many kids were in the crowd. It was just creeping past eight thirty.
“Ho, Ho, Ho! Girls, Santa hasn't forgotten about you. If you've been good this year raise your hand!”
The girls in the crowd jumped up and down. Ponytails went akimbo and hair clips went a-skittering.
“Oh yeah? All of you have been good? Every girl gets a toooooy! Everyone line up, boys on one side, girls on the other.”
Was that another bell I heard? A second one? Oh fudge. Doug was busy directing the children into the line. He reached over and took a cookie from the elf’s plate and the glass of milk.
Parents and children alike jostled into place in the queue. There was a bit of a commotion, and I saw Joseph hustling people aside making his way to the stage.
Doug polished off the cookie in two bites and ate half of another. He guzzled half the milk and put it aside. Two elves took up positions next to Santa. One handed him yellow bow wrapped gifts for the girls; the other passed green bow wrapped toys for the boys.
Persimmons patrolled the edges of the crowd. His eyes never strayed far from Doug. But every once in a while he barked an order to an elf or reindeer to get more snacks or help keep the line in order.
Doug took turns handing out gifts to the boys and then the girls. The elves did a good job keeping everyone moving.
Nat King Cole’s version of ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ blasted over the loudspeakers. The music was so loud; it set my fillings to vibrating. Despite a possible trip to the dentist, I breathed a sigh of relief. The tune blocked out the bell ringing from outside the park. Just a little bit longer and Doug was going
to pull this off without a hitch.
Joseph Troperman had almost made it to the stage at this point. He waded through the boys’ line. What was that about? Doug was doing fine.
Santa Doug handed a present to a little girl in a pink coat. She kissed him on the cheek. He patted her head and she strolled off as happy as a Disney princess. But as she did, Doug hacked into the back of his hand. He paused and reached into his fur-lined coat.
Oh no. Please don't let him go for the flask.
Hand halfway into his coat, Doug paused, then reached for the glass of milk instead.
The rendition of ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ cut off in the middle of the chorus. Without it, a sudden silence settled over Magic Land like a pall. It was just quiet enough for a tiny ting-aling to be heard.
At first, nothing happened. Santa went back to gift giving. Then behind me, I heard something that was out of place.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
It was the sound of metal striking metal. Where was that coming from? I turned to see Persimmons standing in the middle of the lane that cut through Magic Land. He was next one to one of the directional signposts. In one hand he held a walkie-talkie, and in the other was his walking stick. As I watched, he rapped the silver head of his cane against the steel of the pole.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
What was he doing? Then I looked over his shoulder. It was a clear view of the sidewalk outside the park. And there, set up right next to the black iron gates, was another St. Nicholas ringing a bell.
Oh no.
I was almost afraid to look back at the stage. But I did. It was too late. Doug stood erect like a dog catching a scent.
Oh no.
A coughing fit came over Doug. He doubled over on stage. Joseph had finally made it to the platform and went to his brother's side.
The gentle sound of bells trickled into the park. Then low but still audible, I heard the worst thing ever.
“Ho, Ho, Ho.”
Doug straightened up like a shot. His face went as crimson as his coat. “You! You charlatan! Get out of here!”
His brother put the pieces together quickly. Joseph pulled Doug toward the gingerbread house.
