The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Nora

With my hands on my hips, I let out a big sigh, grateful it’s the lunch break. I took my last final yesterday morning, drove home in the afternoon, and Mom put me right to work at ChristmasFest. She’s made me Lead Elf this year, which is more responsibility, and that means I can’t whine and plead to get out of working the first weekend of December, no matter how much I’d love at least a day to relax.

Sandra, one of the new additions to the elf team this year, put up the cables to close the lines about fifteen minutes ago, and Dad—I mean Santa —finished up with the last group of kids—a set of two-year-old twin boys and their four-year-old sister dressed in matching Christmas outfits—while I showed the frazzled parents the photos. All things considered, I think it turned out well. There was only one where all three kids were looking at the camera, but they’re all smiling in all of them, which is a win in my book. Some kids are hard to keep engaged.

Fortunately, these parents were understanding of the realities of their children and were thrilled at how much fun the kids looked like they were having, even if they weren’t all looking at the camera. “You can really see their personalities,” the mom said as she made her selections and beamed at me. “These are perfect. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” It helps that Dad’s a fantastic Santa, drawing out the shy kids and playing off the energy of the more rambunctious ones, making my job of capturing good photos way easier than it could be.

My big sister Sarah was always the best at it, though. Between her and Dad, the Santa photos while she was Lead Elf were always the amazing. She’s running the Christmas Emporium these days. Has been for the last few years, leaving just my brother Dylan and me as elves, since my oldest brother Ty moved away years ago.

Of course, now that Dylan’s graduated from college and working in Seattle while his girlfriend Lydia—who was an elf last year—finishes school, he’s not obligated to come home and work the ChristmasFest anymore.

Which just leaves me. And the seasonal help Mom hires every year, though this year she included me in the interviews when I was home at Thanksgiving. That was unexpected, but nice.

Speaking of Mom, she bustles over in her Mrs. Claus outfit and wraps me in a hug.

“Mo-om!” I protest, even though I hug her back without hesitation. I need a hug. “I thought we weren’t supposed to do this where the kids can see.”

She releases me, but scoffs. “Don’t you think elves and Mrs. Claus give each other hugs? It’s fine.” She lowers her voice. “But you probably shouldn’t call me Mom so loud. I’m pretty sure the elves aren’t supposed to be Santa and Mrs. Claus’s kids in any iteration of the legend.”

Chuckling, I follow her to the back room, where she rubs my back before passing me the lunch stashed in the big family cooler and sitting down at the table. It’s a lot more empty than it used to be, both the cooler and the table.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Mom asks when I sigh again after I sit down as well.

I shrug, opening the container of grapes and popping one into my mouth. “I dunno. It just feels weird this year. Not as magical as it used to, even though everything seems basically the same.”

She gives me a sympathetic look over the rim of her glasses. “It’s not, though, is it? You’re the only one left. And this is probably your last year as an elf. Sarah’s the only one of the four of you who did it after graduating from college, after all.”

“And that was only to help me out,” I point out, grumbling.

Mom nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. “That’s true. She always did have a soft spot for you. You know you can work at the shop after you graduate, if you want. I’m sure Sarah’d love to have you.”

That provokes another sigh. This has been an ongoing conversation—what am I going to do after I graduate? Now that I only have one more semester, the question seems more pressing than ever with no answer in sight.

I know Mom means well, and honestly, working with Sarah wouldn’t be terrible, but the thought of moving back home, living with my parents, and working in the family store sounds like going backwards instead of forwards. Sarah was the one who wanted that life, who wanted to stay in Arcadian Falls and live here forever. And it’s working out great for her—she’s married, has an adopted daughter-slash-sister-in-law, and I’m pretty sure she and Shane are talking about having a baby of their own soon. I love Sarah, and I love that she’s so happy here.

But she claimed that birthright long before the thought even occurred to me. If I’m honest, deep down I’m a little jealous. Her life seems idyllic.

It’s not an option for me, though, and there’s no point dwelling on it. So, like my brothers, I’ve always aspired to get out of the tiny town that is Arcadian Falls. Sure, it’s cute here nestled in a valley between mountains, a lake and a river in spitting distance, but it’s also stifling when inheriting the family business isn’t an option. Nothing much changes here, and if it does, it’s only to make the town more of a tourist attraction. That’s the big industry. During the high seasons it’s packed, and the rest of the time, it’s dead. Even when the town is bursting with tourists, everything closes down by about nine at night.

Going to college in Portland has been great. I love the city, and I love that there’s so much to do. Plus, Ty and Olivia live across the river in Vancouver, which is only a short drive away, so I’m not completely cut off from my family—not that it’s that far to get home if I really want to. Mom and Dad helped me buy a car before I went to college, saying that way I could always come home when I need to. But being home, while nice for the first few days, always makes me feel restless after a while. Like there’s no place for me here, and I need to find somewhere there’s room for me to grow.

The summers are the worst. People everywhere, but nothing much to do that I haven’t done every summer since I was born. And while I still enjoy floating the river or playing in the lake with my friends, more and more they’re staying away, and I’m left on my own, working in the shop, and trying to keep myself entertained.

If I can stay in Portland, I will. The problem is finding a job that pays enough. And since my degree is in psychology, that could be more difficult than I’d like. The obvious next step would be graduate school, but I’m kinda ready to be done with school for now. I need a break from the constant grind of projects and papers and tests and deadline after deadline after deadline. And as much as Ty and Olivia don’t mind me coming over to do laundry or whatever, I doubt they’d be okay with me living with them.

No, if I don’t find a way to support myself in Portland, the only option is to move back to Arcadian Falls.

There’s still time, though. It’s not like I can apply to full time jobs while I’m still finishing school, right? I’ll worry about that later. Like in March.

For now, I have my last season as an elf to finish …

Unless I end up moving back home. I’m not sure which thought makes me more sad.

Needing a pick-me-up, I finish my lunch and head over to the bakery booth near the front of the ChristmasFest space. One of the cookies from Give and Cake always helps me feel better. I told myself I’d resist more this year—because this elf costume is starting to get tight—and I will, but not having as many cookies isn’t the same as not having any , right?

Right.

As long as the lines aren’t bad, I should have just enough time to snag a cookie and eat at least part of it before we reopen for the afternoon. That seems like a reasonable compromise—half the cookie now and half the cookie after, rather than a whole one now and possibly a whole one after depending on how today goes. Since I’m already tired and less cheerful than is recommended for one of Santa’s elves, let’s hope half of a giant Christmas cookie does the trick.

I do a little shimmy of delight when I see that there are only three people in front of me in line. As long as no one takes half an age to decide what they want, I should have no trouble getting back to the North Pole on time.

As the line moves forward, my brows draw together as I study the guy behind the counter. Usually it’s Dale Fitzpatrick, the owner of Give and Cake, who runs the booth at ChristmasFest. He’s like my parents—one of the die-hards that love the festival atmosphere and will likely be dragged out of here on a gurney. He’s older than Mom and Dad, though. I hope he’s okay.

But this new guy looks familiar, too. Something about the quirk of his lips as he smiles seems like someone I know, but I can’t place him.

It’s when he turns to hand a bakery bag to the customer two people in front of me that I gasp with realization.

It’s Austin Stanton.

My brother Dylan’s childhood best friend.

And my childhood nemesis.