by Emma Savant
“So I hear.”
She tapped her fingers on the back of the clipboard and continued to stare at me. Finally, she said, “Just stay out of it, okay? You know who he is now, so there’s no reason to keep talking to the elves about it. We don’t need people panicking more than they are already.”
“No one I talked to was panicking,” I said.
“Let’s keep it that way.”
She looked like she’d rather keep me in the room with her, where I would be under control and not asking meddlesome questions, but there was no reason for me to stay. I raised my eyebrows and waited, and she sighed and stepped away from the door.
“Thanks,” I said dryly, and left.
Chapter 12
I went back to designing outfits for ten-year-olds, but my mind was whirring. Nate had seemed nonchalant and Joy had seemed unsettled, but Noelle? Noelle had been worried.
Santa had been worried, too.
Everyone who seemed invested in keeping me at the North Pole and out of “trouble,” in fact, seemed scared of Frost. Maybe that meant he was exactly the man I needed to see.
I couldn’t ask anyone at the House of Claus what they thought or where I might find the prince of the Arctic. If Noelle wasn’t hovering, I’d probably meet someone else who thought it was appropriate to tattle about grown adults’ private conversations.
I supposed I should have been grateful that whoever it was had gone to Noelle instead of Santa. If he thought I’d been snooping around before, I could only imagine how he’d view my questions about the elusive Frost.
I kept my head down the rest of the day, focused on my work, and kept my conversations light and on whatever topics everyone else was chatting about. After work, I headed straight for the stuffed animals room.
Joy was just leaving when I arrived. She smiled when she saw me, but I couldn’t bury the unsettled feeling in my stomach.
“Listen,” I said in a low voice. “Did you talk to Noelle about me?”
Her look of confusion was genuine, and I relaxed as soon as she shook her head.
“I guess someone overheard us yesterday,” I muttered. “Sorry if you get in trouble.”
Her red eyebrows drew together a little bit, but then she shrugged. “Won’t be the end of the world.”
“Do you want to get dinner?” I said. “Not in the cafeteria, I mean. Somewhere in the city.”
I’d been given my first tiny paycheck, which basically amounted to an allowance on top of the work I was doing for my room and board. I’d asked Lucy what the pile of gold and silver coins amounted to in Humdrum money. She’d seemed confused by the question, but finally made it clear that it would be enough for a few nights of dinner and drinks.
“Sure,” Joy said. “You like Thai?”
“You have Thai here?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot and laughed. “I’ll meet you at the front after I change out of my work clothes,” she said.
We caught a sleek silver cab outside the Workshop, and Joy gave the driver the directions to the restaurant. I sat with my nose almost pressed up against the window, staring at the city outside.
The architecture was bizarre up close, with medieval stone buildings, Victorian halls, and steel skyscrapers all mixed together into one city with no rhyme or reason determining what went where. It looked like the city had started a long time ago as a town, and people had just kept adding to it without ever tearing anything down or giving any thought to city planning.
A few of the buildings we passed seemed to be sculpted entirely out of thick, milky blue ice. Joy pointed to one of these as we drove by.
“That’s been there since 1582,” she said proudly. “Same ice; they just keep re-enchanting it to keep the surface tidy.”
Someone looked out through one of the windows, their face slightly distorted through the ice.
The restaurant was in a shingled one-story building in between a Colonial mansion and a row of brightly painted Victorian townhouses decorated with strings of Christmas lights.
Joy paid the driver and led the way into the restaurant. Lamps cast a yellow glow over the booths and tables, and soft music played in the background. A handful of people were scattered around the restaurant, but it wasn’t busy and didn’t seem like the kind of place where we’d run into anyone I knew.
The host led us to a booth, which was a relief. A booth would be private, and I had a feeling we needed to be discreet even away from Noelle and any other eavesdropping Workshop elves.
I sat and sipped my water while I looked over the menu. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected—peppermint in everything and only cocoa to drink?—but it seemed like typical Thai fare. I ordered basil tofu and Joy ordered salmon panang and hot tea like she’d done it before. She propped her elbows on the table.
“How are you settling in?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess? I don’t have a lot of options.”
“I find that makes life easier,” she said. “How do you like working for Mary?”
“She’s not what I expected,” I said.
Everything I’d ever seen portrayed Mrs. Claus as a docile old lady with curly white hair and a frilly cap. The CEO of the North Pole’s fashion empire was a totally different woman.
“I like her,” I offered.
Joy laughed. “Everyone likes her. She’s half the reason we all put up with Santa.”
“Yeah, he’s kind of a grouch.”
Joy shook her head quickly and held out a hand. “Oh, no, I don’t mean it like that,” she said. “Santa’s a sweetheart. He really is. He’s just under a lot of stress right now, and Mary is so supportive and encouraging. She keeps him from getting too—fussy, I guess you could say. He takes his job very seriously.”
I snorted. “Exactly how seriously can you take toy making?”
“Oh, not that.” She bit the inside of her cheek, making her face dimple. She opened her mouth, then, as if this wasn’t quite what she had meant to say, added, “I mean, he’s got so much do to on the logistical side of things. He doesn’t just make toys—he manages this place and delivers them and has to deal with personnel issues and all sorts of stuff.”
“And Frost,” I said.
Joy looked disapproving. “Frost is another matter entirely.”
“And we’re not supposed to talk about him,” I said. “I know.”
Not that it was going to stop me from trying.
Our server brought our food and Joy gossiped amiably about some guy who kept texting Nate even though they’d only gone out once and Nate wasn’t looking for anything serious, then told me their supervisor was out recovering from an appendectomy and had been temporarily replaced by this tough guy who kept trying to make sewing glass buttons on teddy bears feel like a war.
“It’s not a war,” I said, stabbing a piece of tofu. “Nothing at the North Pole is a war. You’re all so cheery here.”
“Of course we are,” she said. “It’s the best place on earth and we have some of the best jobs on earth. Our department’s probably one of the most boring but I still love it. Didn’t you like working with us?”
The stuffed animals room hadn’t been as stimulating or creative as working at the House of Claus, but everyone had been friendly and my days there had been full of pleasant conversation and longer lunch breaks than I’d ever gotten at Natural Alpine or any of my other old jobs.
I had enjoyed it, strange as it was to realize it.
Part of me still resisted the idea of liking the Workshop overall, though. The North Pole wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced. It didn’t seem real—or at least, it didn’t seem like it could possibly be for me.
“I liked working with you,” I said, begrudgingly. “I just don’t get why everyone is so happy. It’s not normal.”
“Is it not?” She tilted her head, making her bright curls bounce. “Is your world sad?”
“It’s not sad,” I said. I pushed food around my plate, trying to figure out how to explain. “I
t’s just, I don’t know, flatter than here. Most people don’t love their jobs.”
“But that is sad!” she said. “Gosh, I can’t imagine. Isn’t that hard?”
“Yeah, but it’s life,” I said. “You do what you have to do.”
Her lips turned down into an actual pout.
“That’s awful,” she said. “I knew the world was like that back when everyone was a serf or a peasant or a factory laborer, but I thought you’d progressed past that.”
“Some people have,” I admitted.
I couldn’t help thinking of my first college roommate, who had landed a new software engineering job at one of Seattle’s hottest tech companies a few months ago. I’d seen her victory over social media, and it had made my life look even worse by comparison.
I shrugged. “Some people have,” I repeated. “Just not me.”
She shook her head. Her pity got under my skin.
“It’s not that bad,” I said, too quickly. “It’s normal for a lot of people. I’m lucky to have a job and be able to live on my own.”
This only seemed to intensify her concern.
“You live alone?” she said, eyes wide.
“I had a roommate for a while,” I said. “She moved away and I just haven’t found anyone to take the spot yet.”
I didn’t mention that no one wanted to live there or that I’d been too tired to even think of trying to find someone. I could afford the place on my own, as long as I was okay with being totally broke at the end of every month.
Maybe I should just stay at the North Pole. My room here was bigger than my whole apartment back in the real world, and my coworkers were nicer.
The fact that I was even considering it made me almost laugh. Joy gave me an odd look.
“I still need to get back to my life, though.” I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Joy, I think Frost is the only person who can get me out of here. Can’t you tell me anything? Where can I find him?”
She set her fork down.
“You don’t want to go to Frost,” she said. Her pale face reddened a little under the freckles. “I’m not saying that just because I’ll get in trouble if I don’t. I would get in trouble, but that’s for good reason. I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but at the North Pole, rules exist to protect us, and Frost is the biggest thing we need protection from.”
“I’m not an elf,” I said. “He seems to like Humdrums all right.”
“Liking people and using them is not the same thing,” she said. “Look, I like you. Don’t keep looking for him. It’s not about the rules or about whether he can help you get home. He probably could, but he won’t, and if he did he’d ask a price you wouldn’t want to pay. You know how the North Pole is pretty warm, at least inside the city?”
I nodded.
“That’s because Santa cares about us and wants us to be comfortable and happy. Frost—Frost isn’t like that. It’s cold at his palace, as cold as he is.”
“I don’t have another choice,” I said. “The sleigh is busted and I can’t stay here forever. I hate Christmas.”
She tilted her head, and I couldn’t tell if I’d offended or just confused her.
“Doesn’t matter,” she finally said. She fixed me with the kind of look that could cut through steel. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but trust me when I say I don’t want to see you get killed.”
That seemed like a little much.
“He goes around murdering people?”
“This part of the world is cold,” she said darkly. “There are vast expanses that can freeze you in minutes, and the sea would swallow you up in seconds. That’s Frost’s territory.”
I bit my lip. Maybe I didn’t want to ask for his help after all.
“Trust me,” Joy said, the frown on her face as firm as the wooden table across from us. “You do not want to mess with Prince Jack.”
Chapter 13
I stepped back and eyed the outfit I’d put together for gender-nonconforming pre-teen #4923. The outfit was casual but sophisticated, with relaxed jeans, a nerdy T-shirt, and an unzipped black hoodie.
Lucy stopped next to me and held out her hand for a fist-bump.
“You’re getting super good at this!” she said.
“I should be by now,” I said.
I’d put together literally hundreds of outfits in the past few days. It wasn’t the most interesting thing I’d ever done, but I had to admit there was a certain pleasure in rolling a completed mannequin into the other room and knowing that outfit would be under Christmas trees in a few weeks.
It made a difference in the world—a tiny, superficial, unimportant difference—and it beat any other job I’d had by a long shot.
I wheeled the next empty mannequin over to my table and turned to profile #4924. Before I could read more than a few words, I heard someone call my name.
I stood and turned around to see Noelle striding toward me. My shoulders tensed.
Her dark hair was bound back in a headband today, and it gave her a deceptively bubbly look, as if she’s just been transformed into a freshman sorority girl named Daphne who liked puppies and lip gloss. The eyes beneath the headband, though, were as sharp as ever.
“You’ve been reassigned,” she said, tapping her clipboard with her pen.
I grabbed the mannequin, reflexively, as though it might keep me in the room.
“Again?” I said.
I hadn’t wanted one new job, let alone three. The House of Claus would be an okay way to pass the time if they’d just leave me to it.
I glanced at Lucy, who was looking at Noelle with a furrowed brow on her usually carefree face. She shrugged at me and shook her head. Apparently, she hadn’t expected this either.
“How often do you move people around?” I said.
“Santa wants you reassigned,” Noelle said. “He needs help with a special project and it seems you’re the only one who’s got what it takes.”
My stomach dropped. Did the Workshop have a grocery store I didn’t know about? Or was he just looking for someone with awesome skills in racking up debt or flunking out of three different majors? I couldn’t think of anyone else I knew who’d managed to fail out of humanities. Maybe that was a special skill?
I didn’t have the heart to argue. If I’d learned anything about the North Pole, it was that whatever Santa wanted, Santa got.
I sighed, handed my mannequin off to Lucy, and followed Noelle out of the room.
Mary stood in the hallway, chatting animatedly with an elf with a scruffy five o’ clock shadow and manbun. He looked like he would have been right at home back in Colorado, and I couldn’t decide if I missed the town that had become home over the past few years.
Mary flagged us down, and we stood off to the side while she finished her conversation about appliqués. Finally, she turned to us.
“Moving on already?”
Maybe Mary could talk Santa into letting me stay in one place for more than two seconds. She seemed like the only person around here who had any kind of authority over him. I opened my mouth to ask, but Noelle was already talking over me.
“Santa’s requested Holly’s help with a project,” she said. “He’s been working on sleigh repair, but that’s not the only transport component that’s out of whack.”
Mary’s intense face softened into an amused smile. “Still having trouble, are they?”
“Apparently.” Whatever they were talking about, Noelle seemed to find it ridiculous. “He seems to think they’ll do better if she’s around.” She tilted her head towards me.
Mary laughed. “I’m sure they will.” She held out a hand, and I awkwardly shook it. She shook mine back, holding it in both of hers.
“Do your best,” she said. “I’ve loved having you here, as I know Lucy has, but it seems you’re needed elsewhere. Do stop by and let me know how things are going.”
“Actually—” I said, and then I was being marched away by Noelle, who had a firm h
and on my shoulder.
I wriggled out from under her touch, and she gave me a weird look.
We walked out of the House of Claus wing and straight through the doors at the end of the hall. These doors led to the center of the whole snowflake, and the sight inside was like something straight out of a holiday card.
An enormous circular balcony let us look down onto a room where hundreds of elves, maybe thousands, sat at long wooden benches or scurried around with toys in their arms. They all wore green uniforms with white collars, gleaming brass buttons, and jaunty red caps. Christmas music blared from hidden speakers, and the room smelled faintly like sawdust and pine needles.
A few elves in conductor’s caps tested a toy train that ran around the edge of the balcony. Down in the room, the tables were crowded with old-fashioned toys under construction: wooden rattles, hand-carved horses, brightly colored blocks, model airplanes, spinning tops, and about a hundred other kinds of playthings.
My Christmases growing up had always been full of bright plastic junk I’d seen on TV, but everything below us was handmade and exquisite.
Noelle let me take it all in for a moment, then cleared her throat.
“For the tourists,” she said with an eye roll. “But this is the fastest way across the building.”
She led me around the room to a door on the other side of the balcony. The doors were all painted gold on this side, and the deep blue walls behind them were decorated with silver snowflakes.
The music faded as the door fell shut behind us, and I was almost sad to hear it go.
What was wrong with me?
I folded my arms and walked behind Noelle as she led me down yet another wing. The doors down this side were irregular, some of them much wider than others. Reindeer antlers were mounted on the wall, and plaques underneath said things like “Comet, Age 7” and “Dancer, Age 106.” I frowned at these as we walked by. Did reindeer really shed their antlers? How about immortal reindeer?
Noelle pushed open a door that said Staff. I followed her into the dark room and was hit with the smell of hay and horses.
