Little Miss Santa Claws

4. Missy

CHAPTER 4

Missy

W hen I imagined my future as a young elfling, I never thought it would look like this.

I mean, as I got older, I definitely considered the possibility of a late-night road trip in the human realm with a woman as pretty as Nicole, but the circumstances of that fantasy were quite a bit different than the current ones.

I didn’t expect to be wearing my father’s coat or to be chasing after his runaway sleigh.

He always warned me not to leave the reindeer alone for too long outside of the North Pole, especially Rudolph. That pup has always been the most adventurous of the bunch.

I’ve been screwing up all night, mistake after mistake after mistake. The reindeer are barely listening to me. The sleigh keeps stalling out. Christmas Eve is supposed to be a night filled with magic and joy, but I’m concerned I’ve cursed it somehow by stepping into the Santa role. I was never supposed to be Santa, and maybe the universe knows that. It was supposed to be my father. It was supposed to be my brother…

So much for that.

Nicole shuffles out of the house with a set of keys, and I follow her to the garage door. She changed when she ran inside. Now, she’s wearing a pair of dark purple leggings, a light black jacket zipped up halfway, and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. Her messy bun has been retied, and her pale green eyes are shielded by a pair of cute, boxy glasses.

She punches in a code on the panel, and the garage door starts rolling up, revealing a small, sleek convertible. The headlights flash as she unlocks the car and starts the engine remotely, and it purrs to life.

I whistle in appreciation as I approach the passenger side. “Wow. Maxpa MX-7 Miata, with a six-cylinder 2.5-liter engine and a Soul Red Crystal finish. You can’t imagine how many men have this exact car on their Christmas list.”

“Yeah, well, you can thank the midlife crisis my mom had last year.” Nicole opens the driver's door and drops into the seat.

“Holly of a crisis,” I chuckle to myself.

When I settle into the passenger seat, I’m struck by the strangest sense of disorientation. This car is much lower to the ground than the sleigh is. It makes me feel vulnerable somehow. I shift uncomfortably, attempting to sit up as tall as I can, though that doesn’t make much of a difference. I’m too short.

A woman croons through the speakers, some song about breaking up with the love of her life.

“Well, this music is far too depressing for Christmas,” I mutter. As Nicole adjusts the driver’s seat, I reach forward and fiddle with the radio. I flip through the presets, but I don’t find what I’m looking for, so I start spinning through the other channels.

Nicole finishes with the mirrors then stares apprehensively at me as the numbers on the radio crawl upward.

At the first jangling note, I lift my hand away from the dial and smile. The joyful clash of cymbals and twinkling piano fills the small space, and someone sings Jingle Bell Rock . I bounce along to the beat. “There. That’s much better.”

Nicole pulls out of the driveway and onto the street. “You should buckle up,” she mutters.

I jolt into motion, pulling the belt across my torso and clicking it into place. “Right. I always forget these contraptions have safety belts.” I wiggle in my seat. “They’re so constricting.”

“Your sleigh doesn’t have them?” she asks. “I would imagine a vehicle that flies through the sky might benefit more from them than cars.”

I laugh. “On the contrary, they would be a hindrance. Flying is completely safe in the sleigh. It was built with several safety measures, and one of them adheres Santa’s boots to the base. It’s easier to steer the reindeer standing up.”

Nicole licks her lips. “‘Course it is.”

“You must have a ton more questions for me. You can ask them, you know. Total transparency.” At least until we get back to my sleigh. Then, I’ll have to make her forget.

That’s one of the Claus rules. Adults can never remember seeing us, especially the ones on the naughty list.

Up until now, the theory of that rule never really bothered me, but I never thought I’d be in a position where I would need to enforce it. I didn’t expect to be here, doing deliveries and interacting with humans on Christmas Eve, and especially not so soon.

Nicole’s eyes flick to me before returning to the road. “I…actually don’t. I think it might be best if we just focus on getting you to your sleigh.”

I melt into the seat. That’s sort of disappointing. Humans are normally a curious breed, often to their own detriment. I know because I’m half-human. The other half is elf, and I thank my stars for that, for my resilient, elven heart. It’s easier to keep trusting as an elf, to keep hoping for the best in the face of infinite darkness. We were born from the stars, and to them, we return. Day after day. Night after night.

“You don’t have any questions?” I press. “Not even one ? I find that hard to believe.”

She sighs. “I get it, okay? You’re Santa. Children beg you for presents the entire month of December and you deliver them on Christmas Eve. It’s simple. All my respect to you. Your family is single-handedly responsible for a holiday that makes up 19% of total retail sales in the American market. You’re the reason I have a job, so thanks. I don’t need to know anything more than that, and I don’t really feel like discussing how special and wonderful your job is.”

“My job isn’t just about presents,” I argue.

“Oh yeah?” she says with a scoff. “What is Santa about, then?”

Her tone is equal parts frustration and disbelief, and it makes me want to prove her wrong. “It’s about...” I scour my mind for the right words and eventually settle on, “It’s about belief in a better world. In fact, most Christmas wishes aren’t for physical items at all.”

“Really?”

I twist in my seat to watch her. Her lips are a thin line as she focuses on the road. I let myself see past her outward appearance, past the bitterness and disappointment, to the dreams beneath. At least that part of my inherited magic works perfectly. Always has.

With a small smile, I say, “ Yours wasn’t.”

She tosses me a glare. “I didn’t ask Santa for anything.”

“But you still wished for something, and so I know it. I see it. This year, the only thing you wanted for Christmas was your family—or some kind of family. You wanted to feel the joy of belonging again, the way you used to when you were a kid. But joy isn’t something that can be given. It’s something you have to create for yourself.”

Nicole’s hands loosen on the steering wheel as she looks over at me, her eyes glistening with anger. That’s when I realize there’s more light in the car than there had been a moment before. Our car is veering into the opposite lane, a truck hurtling toward us.

The driver blares their horn.

“Nicole!” Before we collide with the truck, I throw myself forward and grab the steering wheel, wrenching us back into our own lane.

Nicole falls back against her seat, both hands flying up to grasp at her chest. I have no choice but to hold the wheel as she catches her breath. She smells so good, like jasmine and candied strawberries. My gaze is locked on the road, but when she doesn’t immediately take the wheel back, I glance over my shoulder at her.

My stomach sinks when I see she’s glaring at me. I don’t have time to look closer. I have to keep the car on the road.

“You have no right to say something like that to me,” she says in a throaty whisper. “We met approximately thirty seconds ago, and the last I looked, this car isn’t my therapist’s office. Where do you get off?”

I scoff. “Hopefully not here. You’re driving us into another car because you’re angry with me?”

Her hands finally return to the wheel, and I back off before I can be tempted to take a second whiff. She might smell pretty, but her resentment does not.

Nicole takes a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m not angry —I’m just… Does it even matter?” She chuckles with a bitter edge. “ If we crashed, the worst that could happen is I’d wake up. You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

My brow furrows. “Wait, you think this is a dream?”

“Isn’t it?”

I did not wind up at the wrong house, lose my father’s sleigh, and partner up with a woman on the naughty list for her to think this is all a dream. This is real. I can’t afford for her to unknowingly sabotage Christmas any more than I already have.

Reaching over, I pinch Nicole’s arm.

She recoils with a yelp, and the car swerves again before straightening back on the road. She narrows her eyes at me as she shouts, “I thought you didn’t want us to crash? Pinching the driver is a damn-near perfect way to make that happen.”

“I was just trying to prove a point.”

“ What point?”

“Feeling pain means you’re awake,” I say with a grimace. “It means you’re alive and that the thing that caused you pain was real . I’m real, Nicole, and my father was real too. You dishonor us both by believing this is only a dream.”

Nicole stares at the road, the anger in her face slowly fading. “What happened to him?” she asks softly.

Turning my head, I stare out the window at the passing city lights. I will her to let it go, but of course, she doesn’t. Not only have I just proven that she isn’t dreaming, but now, my life probably seems a holly of a lot more interesting to her.

“How did he die?” she asks as if she needed to clarify.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Seriously?” Nicole presses, though her voice is entirely gentle. “You just told me, in no uncertain terms, that I am the source of my own unhappiness.”

I sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

She continues, “It just seems a little hypocritical for you to shut down when you expect me to open up to you about my family. I’m not judging anything. I don’t even have naughty or nice lists to place anyone on, so you know—safe place and all that.”

I don’t exactly appreciate what she’s insinuating: that Santa is some judgmental figure who forsakes troubled kids on Christmas Eve. In reality, it’s quite the opposite. Kids don’t make the naughty list so easily. It’s all a matter of faith, truly. There are presents in my father’s bag for all of them, and there’s a deep sense of joy in delivering to them, to those who need Christmas the most.

But she might be on to something about talking it out.

If I’m wiping her memory by the end of the night, why not open up to her? I don’t have anyone to talk to except for the elves, and I’ve hesitated there too. They’re mourning my father’s passing; it didn’t feel right to unload on them so close to Christmas. It’s actually sort of nice to be asked about him. No one back home talks about him around me. They’re afraid to. They treat me like I might shatter and collapse if they even say his name.

But I don’t want to avoid his name.

I want to hear it. I want to say it. Papa.

Besides, talking about how hard the past month has been for me might help Nicole open up in return. Maybe I can get her off the naughty list.

“It was a heart attack,” I admit.

The car falls silent. Well, except for the jolly Christmas music, which seems both fitting and terrible at the same time. I wait for Nicole to say something, but when I glance at her, she’s solemnly gazing out at the dark road.

I fill the emptiness by saying, “Isn’t that the most ironic bullshingles you’ve ever heard? Santa, dying of a heart attack.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry, Missy.”

“Yeah, so am I,” I murmur. “And I’m messing up everything he worked for in one night, everything his father worked for. I was never supposed to be here, to be doing this. That’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

Nicole’s eyes flick to mine, and then she looks me up and down before shrugging. “I don’t know. I think you look good in red.”

My face warms.

“Thanks.” I look down at my suit and pick a fleck of lint off the sleeve. “This is his. The elves wanted to hem it for me, but I just…couldn’t let them do it. It’s exactly the same, which is nothing short of a miracle. Everything else is so different now. Everything feels different, everything except for this coat. Now it’s getting all dirty, and I’m sort of regretting my decision to keep it like this. It must sound so silly. Not wanting to alter it, I mean.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all. I think it’s sweet.”

Her words comfort me, make me feel a little stronger, a little braver. “It makes me feel like he’s close by, like he’s with me.”

Nicole nods. “Maybe he still is.”

“I hope so,” I reply. “He’s the only person who can help me turn this night around.”

Her brow furrows, and there’s a long pause before she asks, “You had to know this was coming at some point, though, right?”

My spine prickles, and I sit up a little straighter. “I can assure you, not a single person in the North Pole saw this coming.”

Nicole winces. “I don’t mean—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean the heart attack. I just meant, you know, the succession.” She waves a hand in my direction. “You had to have been prepared to take over for him someday if you’re his daughter.”

The reminder makes me laugh, but it’s a rather helpless little noise as I relax in my seat. “Not even a little bit. I have an older brother, Christopher Claus, the eleventh in a long line of male heirs to the Santa title. Little did I know, my brother had zero interest in taking up my father’s mantle. He left the North Pole a month ago without a word of warning. Called me from an airport in the Caribbean to let me know the job was mine—permanently. It didn’t leave me a whole lot of time to learn the ropes, hence the disaster this night turned out to be.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for you to be under.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a Claus. We’re built for it.”

Nicole purses her lips. “Is it what you want , though? Do you want to be Santa Claus?”

I think about that for a moment. I think back on my childhood, how great it was to grow up in the North Pole, surrounded by all that light and joy and snow. Tears prick my eyes. “I love the North Pole,” I tell her. “I love Christmas and the snow and the elves. And I’ve always admired my father’s work. I think I spent more time in his workshop than I did any other place in the universe.” I take a deep breath and wipe away a tear as it escapes down my cheek. “So, yeah, I think I do want this. I just worry I’m not cut out for it.”

Silence stretches between us again, and I start to worry I’ve said something too vulnerable. But then, Nicole shakes her head. “Don’t overthink it. Passion for your work is half the battle,” she says. “Everything else is just…practice.”

I turn to look out the window as we drive into town, hiding how much her words meant to me.

The houses glitter with so many colors, and the sky is so dark beyond them. This town is too populated to see the stars. “It might not snow here, but look at all the Christmas lights,” I whisper. “They’re so bright. I love getting to see them this clearly, don’t you?”

Nicole peers out the windows, her head turning as she takes it all in, and a small, shy smile stretches over her lips.

She glances over at me. “I guess I never thought about that. It is beautiful.”