Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

E very living being in the establishment freezes solid, and my heart skips a beat as the entire shop falls into stunned silence.

I slowly turn around, only to find someone dressed head to toe in a plush Santa suit barreling toward us, shaking a giant, gloved fist in the air. Their fake beard hardly stays in place as they stomp forward with their eyes fixed on Mom, Georgie, and me.

“I said STOP, THIEVES! ” they riot again.

Sherlock and Jingle start to bark in confusion, while Fish glares at the festive intruder as if she’s ready to pounce.

“Excuse me?” I manage, utterly bewildered as the shop begins to buzz with murmurs, and an entire sea of phones pop up to record the horror.

Santa points an accusing finger right at the three of us. “Caught you red-handed, didn’t I? Stuffing those purses with all the merch you can get your chubby little mitts on. You three think you can steal Christmas? Well, not on my watch!”

I blink in disbelief. “What—? We didn’t steal anything!”

I cast a quick glance at Georgie and my mother.

We didn’t, did we?

The entire shop erupts into boos and hisses with people snapping pictures our way like they’ve stumbled into some extravagant Christmas heist.

The once-cozy shop is now filled with jeers, and I can’t even hear myself think over the chaos, let alone hear what anyone else might be thinking.

“We are not thieves,” Georgie shouts, tossing up her hands defensively. “Well, maybe she is.” Georgie wastes no time in pointing at my mother.

Great.

Just what we need. Nothing gets more likes or shares on social media than a mutiny among rebels. Not that we’re rebels—or thieves .

I spear my mother with a look that says we’re not thieves, are we?

Mom’s mouth falls open. “Are you out of your mind?” She starts the question my way but finishes it off while glaring at the angry St. Nick. “Who steals soap and candles? Believe me, if I wanted to risk my freedom, I’d go bigger.” And the jeweler down the street would never see me coming.

I suddenly admire her a little more for it.

What am I saying? I shake my head as I turn to the irate person in the Santa suit.

“We would never even think to steal.” I place my hand protectively over my belly. “Stealing is wrong, and we follow the rules.” I may have been speaking to my unborn child just then. It’s never too early to instill good values.

“ They caught the thieves ,” someone shouts from the back, and the crowd starts cheering and jeering our way even louder.

A laugh tries to bubble out of me as I realize how ridiculous this is, but I know I need to say something to stop the madness. “Listen, Santa?—”

But Santa isn’t having it. “Oh no, you don’t,” they shout my way with their husky voice. “I’ve got you all on my security cameras. You’re going on my naughty list for life!” They belt out a hearty ho, ho, ho and trail off with a hearty laugh—and their deep, husky tone vanishes, replaced by a snort-laced cackle that I’d recognize anywhere.

“Wait a minute…” I narrow my eyes and grip the edge of their fluffy white beard before yanking it down in one swift motion.

“ Macy ,” I shout as my sister grins like a loon while dressed in that ridiculous Santa suit. “What the?—?”

The crowd falls silent in disbelief as Macy stands there, laughing so hard that she nearly topples over.

“Gotcha!” she manages while gasping for air.

“ You —” Mom steps forward, shaking her head with a grin of disbelief. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I can,” Georgie mutters before getting back to her shopping. “Macy, you scared half the shop to death. Expect a big tip from me on the way out. I’ve been trying to scare the pants off these old biddies for years. I, for one, appreciated it.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Mom holds Fish close to her chest. “I nearly had a heart attack, You’re lucky I didn’t throw a candle at you.”

“You loved it and you know it,” Macy counters as she steals Fish. “Besides, you’re the one always saying this town needs more excitement.”

Mom is back to rolling her eyes. “I prefer my excitement without the threat of public humiliation, thank you very much.”

I gag at the sight of my saucy sister. “You’re lucky that angry mob you incited didn’t run us out of the shop with pitchforks and torches,” I tell her. “Next time think of something that doesn’t involve screaming and a potential police intervention.”

Macy winks. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.” I’ll have to try harder next time. Seeing them chased out with pitchforks and torches would have been an early gift to myself. But then again, Bizzy is housing my future niece or nephew. I can’t risk her hurting herself. I’ll have to pull out the big guns once she pops the kid out.

It’s nice to know she cares about someone.

Mom steals Fish and places her back in my bag. “Expect a stocking full of coal, Macy. You might be impressed with your little stunt, but the real Santa won’t be.” I wonder if it’s too late to return those spiked red-bottomed heels I bought her.

“ Ooh ,” I muse out loud without meaning to.

Here’s hoping I find a pair of red-bottomed heels under the tree this year, too.

“Please, Mom.” Macy laughs it off. “You can’t scare me. When life gives me coal, I turn it into diamonds.” She waves a hand around at the place. And why aren’t I a billionaire by now? “So who’s up for some spiked eggnog?”

I glance at my watch. “Not me, I’ve got a tree lot to visit before dinner.”

I ante up at the counter, ignore the tip jar Macy thrusts my way, collect my menagerie, and make tracks for the home of those happy little evergreens.

I’ve got another Santa I need to speak to.

And deep down, I wonder if this one will require a potential police intervention as well.