Santa Daddy, I’m Not the One

1

LANDON

T he last rays of the winter sun filtered through the windows of my upscale toy store, casting long shadows over shelves lined with the season’s must-haves. There was a reason Landon’s Luxury was the most sought-after toy shop in the entire town. With a good eye for toy selection, each year, I predicted which toys would be the most popular, then spent a fortune acquiring most of those toys. When they were sold out elsewhere, they appeared on my shelves, often for four times the profit. Some called me a genius, and others loathed me for my business practice, but was it my fault they all bought into the commercialization of the holidays?

If they wanted the toys so badly, they could spend the money to pay for them.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling the entrance of a tired-looking man. He scanned the rows of toys with a mix of desperation and hope. I frowned. In his shabby-looking worn-out coat, frayed at the edges, and battered boots dusted with fresh snow, he seemed out of place amid the polished mahogany counters and displays.

“You’re letting in a draft,” I said in a clipped tone when he just stood with the door open.

“Oops, sorry.” He let the door swing shut with him on the wrong side.

As he moved closer, I saw the lines etched deeply into his face, each one telling a story of hard work. His eyes carried a certain haunted look that spoke volumes about lost dreams, but also a spark of stubbornness that refused to extinguish.

Stubborn old fool. He should give up.

He strolled through the aisles, intently studying each toy before moving on to the next. The way he inspected each item, I knew he was trying to figure out the price, but we didn’t add any to the items. That way, I could change their price on a whim.

Leaving the shelf where I had just put out a fresh stock of limited-edition collector dolls, I strolled after the man, righting each item he touched. He seemed lost among the rows of extravagant train sets and lavish dollhouses that probably cost more than the cardboard box he lived in.

“Can I help you find something?” I asked, making no effort to hide my annoyance. In fact, I wished he had gotten all my hints and had left my store. I had no time to waste with people like him. People needed to know what they could afford and save me the embarrassment of having to tell them they should check the secondhand toy store across the street that would close down permanently next week.

It’d taken me two years to run them out of business.

“I’m looking for a particular doll,” he said. “A coworker told me you had them, but I’m not seeing any on the shelf.”

Ah, he wanted Annabelle.

“Perhaps you should check the store across the street,” I said.

“I already did, and they also told me your store is the only one in the city that hasn’t sold out of the doll.” He grimaced. “Usually, I don’t put so much stock into things, but my daughter’s obsessed with the show and insists she must have the doll for Christmas. She asked Santa for one at the mall, so now Santa has to deliver.”

“How old is your daughter?” I asked.

“Coralie is eight.”

“Eight?” I raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t she a bit too old to still believe in Santa?”

“Well…not really. We’re going to let her believe for as long as she finds it convenient.”

“I’m sorry, but why should a fictitious old man take all the credit for their parents’ deeds?”

“It’s no problem. We want her to believe.”

I shrugged. “Suit yourself. We have the Annabelle doll, but it’s rather expensive.”

“I know. I saved up my bonus to purchase it.”

Stupid man. He needed someone to teach him a lesson. Why spend his Christmas bonus on a doll when he needed it to feed his family? “Okay, then. Come this way, please.”

He followed me behind the counter where I kept the more exclusive items. I pulled out a dark wooden, glass-fronted box and placed it on the counter. Inside was Annabelle, the doll with strikingly detailed features and clothing that were the mirror image of the character from the popular TV show of the same name.

The man laughed, his tired eyes lighting up. “That’s the one! You actually do have it.”

“I specialize in toys you won’t find elsewhere.” I pointed to the doll on the counter. “That’s the reason for the cost. They’re in demand. Just business.”

“Don’t worry. My coworker got one here yesterday. The price is a little steep, but anything for my Coralie. She’s a good kid.”

He pulled his wallet out, and I told him the price. His head shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Did you not hear me?” I repeated the price.

The color drained from his face, and a mixture of shock and despair appeared in his eyes.

“That’s…that’s,” he stuttered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. “That’s my whole Christmas bonus. Are you sure that’s the price? That’s not what my coworker told me.”

“I’m the boss, so of course I know the price.” I plucked the box with the doll from the counter and returned it to its secure display case. “I take it you can’t afford it.”

“Not at that price, I can’t.”

“Each day the price goes up. It’s the price for exclusivity. I’m sorry,”—not really—“but I’m sure you can get another doll at the shop across the street.”

His gaze shifted between the toy and the door. “I can’t… I’m sorry.” With a heavy sigh, he turned and left, his empty hands speaking louder than any words.

I sighed. “A waste of my time.”

I turned around. My full-time assistant, Sarah, stared at me in disbelief. “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.

She dropped her gaze. “Nope, but don’t you think that’s a little too pricey compared to the original price?”

“I don’t pay you to think, Sarah. I pay you to close a sale. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Good. Then tomorrow I expect you to actually make an effort. And wear something more attractive. You make my store look cheap.”

Sarah’s face turned red. I spun around and walked over to the door. It was five o’clock, and I didn’t keep the store open a second longer. Just as I was about to spin the sign to Closed, a woman ran up the steps and caught the door.

“We’re closed,” I said sharply.

“But this won’t take long,” she said. “I drove almost two hours to get to this store.”

“And you’ll have to come back again tomorrow. The store’s closed.”

“It won’t take but a minute. I know exactly what I want. I have money.”

“But I don’t have the time. Listen, lady, come back tomorrow between the hours of eight and five. Not seven fifty-five a.m. and not a minute past five in the evening.”

I closed the door, spun the lock, and ignored her. “Sarah,” I called. “Don’t forget to clear the cash register before you leave.”

I walked to the back where my office was and closed the door. Loosening my tie, I took a seat at my desk and turned on my computer. I reached in my pocket for my phone but came up empty. Damn, I must have left it at the cash register. With a sigh, I got up and returned to the main room.

Sarah was finalizing the sale of a Star Voyager robot to the woman I’d told to return tomorrow. The woman had a smug look as she flounced toward the door, letting it shut hard behind her with a bang.

“What was that?” I asked, my waspish tone cutting through the quiet shop.

“You said my job was to close a sale,” Sarah said. “I didn’t see the harm in letting her in and selling her what she wanted.”

“You went against my orders.”

“To make you money.”

“Since when do you care about making me money?” I snapped. “You spend all day texting your boyfriend and ignoring the customers, but you want to act as if you are a decent employee? You’re fired.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am serious. You no longer work here. I can overlook you being lousy at your job, but talking back to me, no, sweetheart. Get your bags and go. I’ll send your paycheck tomorrow.”

Sarah’s face crumpled. “Please, Landon, it’s Christmas. I need this job. My kids…”

Her plea fell on deaf ears. “You should have thought about that before you thought it was okay to be insubordinate.”

She grabbed her coat, her eyes flashing. “You know what? You don’t have to fire me. I quit. If I’m a lousy employee, you’re a heartless boss. I was already barely scraping by on what you pay me when you’re charging people an arm and a leg for your toys. You’re the reason these people have to spend so much on the toys. You buy out all the stock. I hope the city shuts you down for your business practice.”

Tears streamed down her face. She took up her bag and stomped out of the shop. I locked the door behind her, picked up my phone from the counter, and returned to my office. I worked for another couple of hours updating my spreadsheets, then shrugged into my coat and left the store. I would have to put up a Help Wanted sign tomorrow.

As I walked home, Christmas carols, laughter, and light spilled into the festive streets filled with families. Their joy only deepened the hollow feeling inside me. I burrowed deeper into my coat and kicked my way through the snow.

I don’t need anyone. I never have.

I arrived at my empty, sprawling house, in one of the wealthiest areas in town, an epitome of opulence and luxury. The black iron gates stood tall, their tips sharp as daggers glistening under the moonlight. With a swift press on the keypad by the wall, I welcomed myself home.

The house was a monument—a majestic Georgian colonial structure. It was the only house that didn’t have one decoration to symbolize the holiday. I walked past the trimmed hedges and rows of violas, which added color to my otherwise monotonous day. Two years ago, I’d inherited all this luxury. My life should have changed for the better, but it only got worse.

I opened the wide double doors made of polished oak and adorned with brass fittings and stepped into the warmth of the foyer. Portraits of family members lined the walls, but they might as well have been strangers. They sure as hell never acknowledged me. My father hadn’t even wished to see me on his deathbed.

Why did he leave everything to me if he despised me so much?

After all, he blamed me for ruining his marriage and causing a rift between him and his legitimate family. I was a bastard who should have inherited none of this.

I tossed my keys onto the side table and hung my coat in the closet. Before I could close the door, two bodies sprang out of the closet.

I yelled and jumped back, slamming into the wall at my back. Elves? What kind of prank was this? I had people dressed like elves coming out of the closet, one carrying a large red-and-white bag.

“I told you he was going to scream,” the shorter elf said with a laugh. “You owe me a flake.”

“Oh, man, I’m not betting with you ever again.”

“What the hell’s going on?” I cried. “You need to get out of my house before I call the police. You’re breaking and entering.”

The dark elf with the goatee crossed his arms. “Hi! We’re Pix and Dix, Santa’s helpers, and we’re here to make your dreams come true. For this Christmas season, you get to visit Twinkle Glen, where Santa lives, and explore his workshop just as you’ve always dreamed.”

I gave a bark of laughter. “You know how I know this isn’t real? There’s no such thing as Santa, and if there was, he doesn’t live in some fictitious place called Twinkle Glen. That would be the North Pole. And get this, I can’t remember a time I’ve dreamed of visiting Santa.”

The other elf’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t believe in Santa?” he asked.

“Of course not. I’m a grown man. Anyone with a lick of sense would know that old man doesn’t exist.”

“Hey, Santa may be over seven hundred years old, but he’s hardly old!” Pix said.

“What are we to do?” Dix asked. “How can he not believe? He’ll never make it in.”

Pix shrugged. “His name came down to us. We have no choice but to bring him with us.”

“You’re not bringing me anywhere!” I said.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t have a choice. This is our Christmas tradition.”

“You can’t—”

Pix flung out his hand, and a white powdery substance flew into my face. I choked and spluttered, my vision blurring for a moment, then settling into a haze. The room swam around me, the familiar surroundings distorting and warping in unnatural ways.

“What…was that?” I coughed, rubbing my eyes frantically.

“Sleigh dust. It’s the magic of Christmas.”

I attempted to steady myself against the wall, but they lunged, and the large velvet sack came over my head. I tried to raise my arms, but they were too heavy. Was I shrinking? The world spun. Darkness enveloped me, and everything became muffled. My feet left the ground, and I was lifted up as if I was swept up in a tornado.

“Sorry for the crude way of handling this,” Pix said, “but you wouldn’t come willingly, and Santa needs you.”