Snow in Love

by Aimee Friedman

  “Prince?” Maxine felt a wry smile tug on her lips. “For real? So you just swapped ‘Avery’ for ‘Nutcracker’ to get this job?” Maxine hoped she wasn’t offending the guy; her mom often chided her about not thinking before she spoke.

  But Nutcracker—or, rather, Avery—only shook his head, still smiling. “One of those lucky coincidences, I guess,” he replied cheerily.

  Oh God. Maxine groaned inwardly. Mr. Blond Sunshine was clearly lacking in the humor department.

  When Santa/Daniel returned, hat cockeyed on his head and frothy white beard covering his chin, Maxine hurriedly introduced herself to the trio, accepting the fact that, like it or not, she was one of them now.

  Then Avery gave her another aw-shucks smile. “Let me show you our wrapping station,” he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. As Maxine reluctantly turned to follow him, her curly-toed slipper made contact with a stack of yule logs, and she tripped, stumbling forward a few paces. Great. Not like Claudette’s prima-ballerina presence wasn’t already making her feel like the biggest klutz alive. At least Heath wasn’t around to witness her smooth moves.

  “Easy there, Ms. Elf,” Daniel said, taking hold of Maxine’s shoulder. “You cool?” Maxine couldn’t make out Daniel’s mouth behind the beard but his brown eyes were smiling, and she smiled back. She suspected that Slacker Santa’s chill vibe might make her time at the Christmas Corner slightly more bearable.

  “I’m grand,” Maxine replied. “I mean, who doesn’t enjoy strolling in elf shoes?” Daniel and Claudette glanced at each other, chuckling.

  “Well, our last elf, for one,” Avery chimed in with predictable earnestness. He motioned for Maxine to join him at a counter that was strewn with tubes of red, gold, and green wrapping paper.

  “Yeah, why did she quit?” Maxine asked, feeling a prickle of intrigue. “Or was it death by embarrassment?”

  Claudette shook her head. “She got a job at the fry station at Burger Heaven.”

  Maxine nodded, her worst fears confirmed. So dunking your gloved hands into vats of hot oil was preferable to working the elf gig at Barton’s.

  Maxine walked—carefully—over to Avery at the gift wrap counter.

  “Wrapping gifts, in my humble opinion, is the second-best part of our job,” Avery was saying, resting his boxy hat on the counter. “People are so grateful, when all you’ve really done is slap on some paper and Scotch tape—”

  “Um, sorry,” Maxine cut in, annoyed beyond belief by Avery’s ode to gift wrapping. “There’s a first best part to our job? Like what, leaving for the day?”

  Avery glanced at Maxine, furrowing his brow. “Wow. Are you always this cynical?” he asked, his tone matter-of-fact.

  Maxine rolled her eyes. She was a native New Yorker, for God’s sake—she was allowed a little cynicism now and then. Meanwhile, she’d bet anything that Nutcracker Prince wasn’t from here. He’d probably grown up in a ranch house, called his dad “Pop,” and got really into Christmas.

  “My favorite part is the kids,” Avery was saying, fastening his black hat on over his blond head. “You’ll see—they get so psyched about the smallest things and—”

  “I can imagine,” Maxine said, picturing a screaming brood of five-year-olds fighting over the display of gourmet candy apples.

  On cue, she heard a cacophony of excited voices streaming up the staircase, along with a boy whining, “Mom, can I get a toy sleigh this year, please, can I, can I?” Glancing at the clock above the cash register, Maxine’s stomach sank. It was ten o’clock. Barton’s was open for business. No turning back now.

  “Well, here we go,” Avery said, tipping the brim of his soldier’s hat to Maxine and flashing her a grin. “Good luck, Maxine.”

  As Avery marched off, Maxine scanned the faces of the people swarming upstairs, hoping to catch sight of her crush’s messy black hair and sly smile. But Heath was nowhere to be seen, and soon the entire space was so flooded with customers that Maxine had no time to dwell on finding him.

  Haggard-looking parents, grandparents, and nannies—with grabby toddlers in tow—descended upon Maxine at once. Where are the hand-painted Belgian eggnog ladles? Is that Christmas tree for sale? Do you carry faux-fur stockings? “Um, it’s my first day,” Maxine replied, breaking out in a sweat and searching for some colleague to come to her aid. But Sandy was at the register, Claudette was pirouetting around the snow globe display, Daniel was half dozing behind the gift wrap counter, and Avery was good-naturedly posing for a photo with a pack of little boys. Maxine tried to answer the storm of questions as they came, but she was distracted by countless elbows in her ribs and a random baby yanking on her elf ears each time he passed by in his father’s arms. The fact that she made it through the morning without getting trampled seemed a small triumph.

  Lunch, Maxine learned, consisted of egg salad sandwiches provided by Sandy, and Maxine wolfed hers down while sitting alone on a carton in the back storage room. So much for changing out of her elf costume and meeting Heath; the half hour barely allowed her time to finish chewing her food and to tug up her striped tights, which were bunching around the knees.

  By three o’clock, the mad rush had trickled down enough for Maxine to do a quick spin around the Corner, mentally taking note of where the Belgian eggnog ladles and various other items were kept. When an elderly woman cradling a Chihuahua demanded that Maxine find her the priciest tree ornament in the shop, Maxine produced a Swarovski-crystal-encrusted star in five seconds flat, and couldn’t help feeling a flush of pride. But just as Maxine was handing over the ornament, she heard Sandy calling her and the others over to the chocolate snowmen display.

  The singing portion of the afternoon, Maxine realized. Dread gripped her as she watched Sandy set up speakers. Daniel, Avery, and Claudette gathered in a semicircle. Her palms clammy, Maxine headed over, positioned herself between Avery and Claudette, and accepted the sheet of lyrics from Sandy. As the opening chords of “Winter Wonderland” filled the Christmas Corner, Sandy stood before her four employees and held her arms out on either side like a conductor. Maxine wondered how her mom and stepdad, the music snobs, would react to this moment. Some customers reacted by stopping and staring, while others continued milling about, indifferent to or perhaps familiar with this act of lunacy.

  “One, two, three … Sleigh bells ring!” Sandy sang at the top of her lungs, swooping her arms in and out.

  “Are you listening?” Claudette, Avery, and Daniel chimed right in, singing in loud unison over the backup track pouring out of the speakers. “In the lane, snow is glistening …”

  Maxine remained frozen in horror.

  Avery lightly nudged her with his elbow, indicating that she should add her voice to the chorus, and Maxine felt a spark of irritation. What a kiss-up, she thought, glancing over at him; true to form, he was singing with abandon, not even referring to the lyrics in his hand. Meanwhile Claudette was trilling in a beautiful soprano, practically auditioning for the opera. But thankfully Daniel was stumbling over the words—“in the snowman we can build a meadow”—and when Maxine caught his eye, he made a face. Feeling a little better, Maxine started singing along, realizing she was familiar with the lyrics. After all, Christmas music played on a near-constant loop inside every store and taxicab the minute Thanksgiving ended; over the years, something had clearly sunken in.

  Out in the crowd, a nanny and her young charge joined in the singing, and someone else cheered. Maxine felt a laugh building in her. Somehow the moment was so ludicrous that it was almost … fun. She’d forgotten the pure pleasure that came with singing; sometimes it didn’t matter what the music was. As long as no one she actually knew was watching—

  Oh no.

  Maxine was belting out the part about your nose getting a “chilling” when she spotted a face in the crowd that made her voice catch. Heath Barton was standing a few feet away, a Starbucks venti cup in one hand and sunglasses hiding his hazel eyes. As the corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing grin
, he raised his cup toward Maxine in greeting, and her face turned so hot she was sure it matched Daniel’s Santa suit.

  “Congrats,” Heath said, strolling over to Maxine a few minutes later, once all the customers had dutifully applauded.

  “You mean on surviving that?” Maxine asked, out of breath. Heath’s nearness was making her pulse accelerate. She brushed her sweaty bangs off her forehead, wondering if she could duck behind the Christmas tree and pull herself together. Her elf ears felt like they might be askew.

  “On getting the job, silly,” Heath replied, taking a sip from his cup. “Having a good morning so far?”

  Maxine blinked up at him in confusion. “Heath, it’s like three thirty.”

  “Is it?” Heath removed his shades and checked his phone. “Oh, man, whenever I wake up at noon, it throws my whole day off.” He glanced over as Claudette, Avery, and Daniel passed by. “’Sup, Claudette?” he called. “Heard you got the lead in Swan Lake. Nice.” He shot her a winning smile and then looked back at Maxine. “She’s a dancer at Juilliard,” he explained, lowering his voice.

  Of course, Maxine thought, glancing at Claudette, who returned Heath’s smile and said something to Avery and Daniel. Maxine noticed that all three of them were watching her and Heath with interest. She knew her coworkers must have been curious about Maxine’s connection to Barton’s heir.

  “I need to jet—I’m having lunch with my dad’s accountant,” Heath was saying, touching Maxine’s shoulder to get her attention. “Lately I’ve been more involved with the business side of the store,” he added, and motioned to the cash register. “It all comes down to bills, bills, bills in the end. You know what I mean?”

  “I guess,” Maxine replied, thinking that actually it all came down to Heath’s hand on her shoulder right then.

  “Speaking of,” Heath went on, sliding his hand from Maxine’s shoulder down to her arm, making her stomach jump. “We should do lunch sometime.”

  Maxine nodded, trying to keep a poker face. “But I’ve only got half an hour,” she explained. “Maybe instead we could—” She paused, wondering if it would be too forward to ask about nighttime plans. She pictured herself and Heath, hands linked, strolling along Fifth Avenue and gazing into the glowing window displays as snow drifted down on them. They would stop to watch the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center and …

  “No worries,” Heath said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’ll talk to Mr. Perry, pull some strings to get you more free time.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink, slowly removed his hand from her arm, and turned to go while Maxine watched him, melting. “And, hey, Maxine?” Heath added, glancing back at her before he descended the staircase. “You make some elf.”

  Before Sandy could scold her for standing around doing nothing, Maxine hurried toward the gift wrap counter, her heart racing. She was dying to text Tara to confer about whether or not You make some elf was code for I love you.

  That week at Barton’s, Heath gave Maxine endless fodder for texts, since he visited the Christmas Corner daily, always delivering a flirtatious remark (“Hot tights, Silver”), and, once, a kiss on the cheek. The kiss came after a disastrous group rendition of “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing,” so when Heath unexpectedly leaned close, whispered, “Nice work,” and pressed his warm lips to Maxine’s skin, it felt like a reward. Maxine took a step back and grinned up at him. Daniel, Claudette, and Avery were lingering nearby, but Maxine was barely aware of her coworkers, or the rest of the Christmas Corner crush around her.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t made good on that lunch date,” Heath said, his hand lightly brushing the spot he had kissed as he moved a strand of hair off Maxine’s face. “I promise I’ll talk to Mr. Perry once my schedule has calmed down a little.”

  “You do that,” Maxine replied, although she wasn’t sure what exactly was keeping him so busy. After only a few days at Barton’s, she’d realized that Heath didn’t technically “work”—he floated, drifting from one part of the store to the other, coming and going at odd hours to conduct “market research,” and chatting up the girls who worked at the perfume counter to “assess employee satisfaction.” But Maxine couldn’t quibble; their flirtations by the Christmas tree, however brief, were still delicious oases in the midst of all those giant candy canes and shrieking children.

  Though it turned out that Heath Barton wasn’t the only bright spot in her existence as an elf. Those shrieking children, for instance, could actually be pretty darn cute. On her second day, Maxine had a bonding moment with a wide-eyed little girl who tugged on her hand and asked if she really worked in Santa’s toy shop. “Yes, and I’ll make some extras for you this year!” Maxine had replied, startled by the sweetness of her own response. As the girl’s face lit up, Maxine wondered if Avery hadn’t been so off base after all. And though Maxine wasn’t in love with gift wrapping just yet, helping frantic customers could be weirdly rewarding. Once she’d familiarized herself with the layout of the store, Maxine became something of an expert at digging up obscure items—from extra-large Santa suits to the last remaining Prancer figurine—and presenting them to people who were near tears. “Ask Maxine” became a catchphrase among her coworkers, and hearing those words gave Maxine a warm rush of pride.

  Maxine’s coworkers had turned out to be another not-so-bad aspect of the job. Despite her predilection for doing tour jetés across the Christmas Corner, Claudette was as sweet as her job title promised; during lunch, she and Maxine sometimes snuck downstairs to ooh and ahh over new clothing shipments. Even Avery’s boundless enthusiasm, which had irked Maxine from the start, could be refreshing at times, especially when he volunteered to take over cleanup duty at the end of a long, grueling day. And Daniel’s whatever-dude philosophy proved as comforting as Maxine had predicted, though his tendency to take naps under the Christmas tree got annoying.

  Mostly, though, Maxine was glad to have compatriots under Sandy’s tyrannical rule. One sleet-drenched morning, when Sandy was stuck in traffic and running late, Avery offered to head out to the corner café and pick up mochas for everyone. With some time to kill before ten, the foursome gathered around the register with their drinks and swapped stories about what had brought them to Barton’s.

  “Houston,” Claudette sighed in her tinkly voice, cupping her chin in her hands and gazing off into the distance. “I just need to afford a plane ticket home to Houston for Christmas, and then everything will be okay.”

  “How so?” Maxine asked, sipping her mocha. As usual, Daniel and Avery were staring at Claudette in utter, silent devotion, as if every word she breathed were gospel.

  Claudette lifted her shoulders, her wings fluttering behind her. “Lance,” she explained. “My love. He’s there, waiting for me. It’s not really Christmas if we’re not together.”

  Maxine fought the urge to roll her eyes while Daniel and Avery both looked crestfallen at this news.

  “I’m feeling you on the plane ticket front,” Daniel spoke up, fiddling with his Santa beard. “Otherwise, I’ll need to hitch a ride to San Diego. My parents will—no joke—assassinate me if I’m not home for Christmas. My family’s nuts.”

  Maxine nodded, thinking that she could relate to that. Meanwhile, Avery asked Daniel if that was why he moved out east in the first place.

  “Not really,” Daniel replied, shifting his beard back into place. “I’m a film student at The New School. I took this job because I want to make a documentary about department-store Santas. It’s gonna be, like, Oscar-worthy. When I get around to doing it, that is.”

  “Cool,” Avery replied. Glancing at Maxine, he bit his lower lip and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. Maxine wondered if, like her, he was trying not to laugh. It was odd to share a moment of connection with Avery, but then Maxine brushed the feeling aside. He may have been good-looking—in a generic, vanilla sort of way—but he was so not someone Maxine would even be friends with outside this job.

  “What about you?” Maxine asked Avery, breaking their
gaze and focusing on her mocha. “Why Barton’s?”

  “I’m studying acting at Tisch—you know, New York University?” Avery explained. “I figured this job would be good practice for an aspiring actor. And I’m from Illinois, so—”

  “Illinois?” Maxine repeated, grinning, and Avery nodded, taking a sip of his mocha. Bingo! she thought. Her Midwesterner radar never failed her.

  Next it was Maxine’s turn, but she couldn’t very well say that she’d taken the position to spend time with Heath Barton. So she went the bald-faced-lie route and explained that she’d wanted a job that involved singing, since she was into music. She also mumbled something about wanting to afford a certain dress, but that reason didn’t seem quite as noble as making it home for Christmas.

  But at closing time on December 23, Maxine didn’t care about being noble. Because that evening—the evening before their last official day—Sandy was handing out paychecks. As soon as Maxine received the flat envelope, she bid her coworkers good night and tore downstairs into the employee changing room. She had two clear goals, and they flashed before her like road signs: Bank. Dress. Bank. Dress. The boutique was still open for another thirty minutes. She was going to make this happen; she hadn’t suffered for six days in vain.

  The downstairs salespeople were quietly organizing stacks of handbags as Maxine thundered past them, her burnt-orange peacoat flapping behind her. She was zeroing in on the double doors when Heath Barton suddenly appeared and blocked her way.

  “You can’t leave now,” Heath told her, holding up the palm of one hand and smiling devilishly. “I forbid you.”

  Maxine hadn’t seen Heath yet that day and normally would have welcomed any excuse to return his playful banter. But tonight was an exception. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Heath, stop it. I have to be somewhere.”