Chapter Six

December 21

“STARTING TODAY—”

Whenever Mr. Marsh addressed the assembled Christmas Village troops, he always sounded like a drill sergeant getting ready to knock a few heads together.

“STARTING TODAY, WE ARE GOING TO GET RID OF SOME BAD HABITS.”

An elderly part-time elf in the front row winced at his bellowing and adjusted her hearing aid. Mira tried to imagine following suit, turning down the volume on her ears.

“We have grown complacent,” Marsh said. “We have gotten sloppy. We need to step it up , everyone. These are the last few shopping days before Christmas, and we need to make our presence here count.”

Technically, Mira understood why Marsh was so gung-ho about making the Christmas Village a no-holds-barred holiday extravaganza. In his own way, he was a seasonal employee too. This was his chance to make a good impression on his bosses, and if he handled it just right, maybe he could spin it into a permanent Honey Brook management position that would matter even after the holidays were over.

It made sense. She would have been on his side about it if he hadn’t decided that management-job-in-waiting gave him a God-given right to run them all ragged.

And if he hadn’t kept her in the Galadriel costume. She couldn’t help holding a tiny grudge about that.

But to be honest, it was hard to remember any petty squabbles with Marsh when Wade was sitting next to her. All the folding chairs were crammed together so tightly that she couldn’t help her thigh brushing his—and since she couldn’t help it, she might as well enjoy it. The delicate frisson of attraction between them woke her up way more than her morning coffee had.

Of course, she wished it was keeping her awake for something more exciting than Marsh’s rundown of all the impractical, last-minute changes he wanted them to make, but hey, you couldn’t have everything.

“Starting today, we’re going to wrap more presents!”

They already wrapped all the presents anyone brought them to wrap. They couldn’t wrap gifts that didn’t exist.

Marsh’s second command was more doable but also more groanworthy: they were going to change carol-oke, a daily event where the elves coaxed kids into scream-singing Christmas carols, into an all-day activity.

It was a terrible idea. Carol-oke only existed as filler to distract the kids while Santa took his lunch break, and even then, Mira was pretty sure that no one liked it but the singers. The parents only put up with it because it was better than a whole hour of, “When’s Santa coming back? When’s Santa coming back?” No one wanted to listen to it all day. Most of the kids who flocked to the Christmas Village were good-natured and enthusiastic, but they weren’t, to put it gently, on the verge of being chosen for the National Children’s Chorus. They shrieked as much as they sang.

All-day carol-oke was a headache waiting to happen. It would torture the parents, it would torture the elves, it would torture Wade. The only Christmas Village person it wouldn’t bother was Marsh ... because he was the only one who could leave at any time.

He wasn’t stuck waiting in line with a son or daughter desperate for a one-on-one with Santa. He wasn’t icing gingerbread men at the bakery booth or trying to figure out how to wrap a present that came in a trapezoidal box. He certainly wasn’t in Santa’s chair, because she couldn’t think of anyone here less qualified to play an icon of generosity and goodwill.

Everyone grumbled about all-day carol-oke and pointed out everything Mira had been thinking, but Marsh dismissed their concerns with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t want to hear these complaints! Where’s your pep? Where’s your holiday spirit?”

Shockingly inaccessible right now , Mira thought, and to her surprise, the truth of that stung a little.

She’d always loved Christmas. It had always taken up the whole month of December for her, in a kind of prolonged delicious anticipation. The days leading up to Christmas were reserved for baking (peanut butter blossoms and molasses cookies were her favorites), watching classic holiday movies, decking her halls with boughs of holly, and retrieving each day’s piece of foil-wrapped chocolate from her advent calendar. This year, she hadn’t even bought one. She had barely managed to put up a tree. She hadn’t even watched It’s a Wonderful Life , let alone Christmas in Connecticut and Miracle on 34 th Street .

The bright, colorful Christmas Village had been her sole source of holiday delight, and Marsh had been steadily sucking all the joy out of it.

It wasn’t just him, though. It was also the stress. For the last few weeks, life had bounced her around like a pinball. Podcast recordings—ping!—freelance video editing—ping!—Christmas Village—ping!—worrying about her parents— ping, ping, ping!

It had been a while since she’d gotten to indulge in anything. Since she’d gotten to really enjoy herself. Lately all her pleasures had been stolen ones, like the gentle, surreptitious pressure of Wade’s body against hers during this interminable crack-of-dawn work meeting. And that was great, but what would it be like if she had time and space to devote herself to that? To whatever was already building between them?

What would it be like to touch him all over, on purpose, not just casually and accidentally?

That made her breath catch in her throat, so she quickly shifted gears:

Honestly, I’d settle for a fresh-baked peanut butter blossom and a movie. A couple of hours away from any obligations and any worries.

A little bit of a carefree Christmas. Wouldn’t that be nice?

When Marsh finished shooting down all the objections to the carol-oke change, he pointed at Mira.

It was like instant vertigo. She could feel her soul dropping inside her.

So much for carefree Christmas.

“And you, Mira,” he said, “will staff the carol-oke booth today.”

“All day?” Mira said. The words took on an agonized squeak that was unfortunately very expressive of her feelings about this.

Marsh clearly relished her discomfort. His smile really did spread ear-to-ear, like in a cartoon.

“All day,” he confirmed. His voice grew sickly sweet: “But don’t worry, you won’t be doing it every day. We’ll all take turns. I’m sure tomorrow will bring something exciting and new.”

Wade raised his hand.

Marsh’s smile vanished, and his face went through a series of unpleasant contortions. He didn’t want Wade as Santa, but keeping Wade as Santa was the only way to maintain the Christmas Village’s perfect image until the end of the year.

“Yes, Wade?” he said through clenched teeth.

“You said we’ll all take turns. Does that mean—”

“Obviously not you,” Marsh said impatiently. “Your only job is to be in that chair.”

“I was going to say you ,” Wade said. “Does that mean you’ll be taking a turn at hosting carol-oke singalongs too?”

There were a few stray snickers and suppressed laughs in the back, and Marsh’s face purpled.

“I’m busy,” he snapped.

“I just think it would be really good for morale,” Wade said. “People like seeing leaders pitch in with the grunt work.”

“We do,” another elf volunteered. “It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

Marsh’s already purple face now turned stiff and masklike. His smile was brittle. “Well, Wade, if you feel so strongly about that, then shouldn’t you, as Santa Claus, show the rest of the North Pole that you’re willing to try out their work too?”

“ Oooh ,” a bunch of teenage elves crooned in unison.

Mira had bit back her grin at Wade’s suggestion—Marsh was already so prickly this morning that she wanted to be on her best behavior—but she couldn’t stand by and let Wade get stuck with the worst job in the village.

“You just said Wade has to sit in the chair,” she said. “That’s what people want from Santa.”

“It’s okay,” Wade said instantly. “I’m sure I can make it work. I’ll figure something out.”

“Make sure you do,” Marsh said, in a faux-velvety voice he probably thought was more intimidating than it was. He made sure to shoot Mira an icy glare before he moved on to the next item on the agenda.

Mira sighed. The problem with Marsh was that he didn’t actually need to be genuinely intimidating. He could be an annoying, buzzing pest whose bluster was more ridiculous than scary, and it didn’t matter. He could still fire her, and that would still mean losing the bonus she was counting on.

He didn’t have to have a strong presence. He just had to have the clout to smash her flat, and he did.

Luckily for her, Wade’s quick agreement to Marsh’s bizarre suggestion had taken the wind out of Marsh’s sails for now. Even he couldn’t keep his petty sadism at a full boil all the time.

But what had Wade been thinking? Maybe it wouldn’t be outright impossible for him to take occasional breaks from meet-and-greets to host carol-oke, but it would be a huge and thankless hassle. All it would do was make his day worse and harder. He had to know that: everyone’s frustration at this being dragged out into an all-day event made that much extremely clear.

So why was he hiding a smile behind his hand as he scratched at his itchy stick-on beard?

“What are you up to?” Mira asked him when Marsh finally gave them the all-clear to start opening up. “You know you’ve doomed yourself to visiting me in the ninth circle of hell, right?”

“It can’t be that.”

“Fine, maybe not the ninth. Maybe just the seventh or eighth. But it’s bad. You have to know it’s bad. Didn’t Petey tell you?”

“Sort of,” Wade said. Mira had to stop herself from getting distracted by the sheer number of collapsed folding chairs he was able to pick up at once, all without missing a beat or breaking a sweat. How strong was he? “But I think it’ll be okay.”

“So you’re just one of those blithely optimistic people.”

He shot her a grin.

God , Mira thought as every nerve ending in her body seemed to light up at once. I’m as bad as he is. I brush his foot yesterday, and he looked like it was better than sex. He smiles at me while hauling chairs around, and I feel like a slot machine that’ s just hit the jackpot.

“Something like that,” Wade said.

She took her measly two chairs across the room with him to stack them out of the way. There was all kinds of noise around them as everyone else banged their own chairs together, started running the ancient and always-groaning snow machine, and more, but all she could focus on was Wade.

“By the way,” he said, slinging his own chairs onto the rack and then reaching for hers, “I listened to some of your podcast last night. Actually, I guess I should say we listened to it.”

The sinking feeling from Marsh sticking her with carol-oke was nothing compared to this. This was like falling into a bottomless, ice-cold well.

He had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. No wedding ring, so it wasn’t official, but—he had someone .

If that was true, then why was he flirting with her? She couldn’t be imagining the chemistry between them, could she? And it wasn’t like he was fighting it.

“We?” she said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Me and Fiona. My cat.”

His cat!

“Oh!” Mira exclaimed. So much for casual: her relief had to be obvious. She did what she could to spin it in a less embarrassing direction. “I have a cat too! A tiger-striped boy named Bigfoot.”

“Does he have big feet?”

“Absolutely enormous ones. Huge. He could kill me with one blow of his mighty paw, but he’s the sweetest cat to ever live, so he refrains.”

“Pictures?”

They engaged in the ritual of mutually admiring each other’s cats, and she thought they were both sincere about it. It would take a heart of stone not to be moved by a beautiful goof like Bigfoot—who radiated a sunny absence of thought—and Fiona was a certified cutie. Mira especially loved the thin white stripe that ran down her chin like a spilled drop of milk.

“So Fiona likes my podcast, huh?”

“We both did,” Wade said. “We started with Christmas in Connecticut , obviously, and then moved on to—”

“Santa, we need you!” another elf called out. “We’re about to open the gates!”

“Rain check,” Mira said with a smile. “You can give me your review later.”

Standing so close to him and tilting her face up to look him in the eyes was having a definite effect on her. She felt like a sunflower turning towards the sun. The rest of the day wasn’t going to have much going for it, so she should soak up these last few seconds of Wade time while she had the chance.

“It’ll be a good one,” Wade said. “Five stars.”

If she stayed like this any longer, she was going to kiss him. She wanted to do it. Maybe a frenzied day in the Christmas Village, a mediocre lunch, a lot of daydreaming, and an irritating morning meeting made for an unconventional first date, but the time together was what mattered, right? Not what they’d been doing. And she felt as swoony now as she ever had when a guy had walked her to her front door.

But there was a big difference. If a date walked her to her front door and she felt like this, she could invite him inside.

She couldn’t invite Wade anywhere right now. He was about to take center stage in a whole bunch of holiday memories, and she was about to get stuck with a malfunctioning carol-oke machine.

Maybe ... tonight? Or would it still be better to just wait until the holidays were over and everything with her parents was settled, so she’d have peace of mind? That was certainly what she’d been thinking last night, but looking up at him like this, it was hard to remember why she’d been so sure that waiting was the smart decision.

She was all set to make the dumb decision instead, and the only thing that stopped her was that she wasn’t sure she wanted a whole Christmas Village’s worth of coworkers to share in their first kiss. She forced herself to take a step back.

“Great,” Mira said. Her voice was coming out all squeaky again. “I ... look forward to it!”

She hurried off before she could risk hearing him laugh at her, but even with her ears involuntarily pricked up for any indication of that, she didn’t catch even a suppressed chuckle. Then she remembered how he had blushed with her earlier, and she felt better. Maybe they were both a little awkward on the dating front.

“Oh my God, do you and Santa have a thing ?” Becky-the-elf said to her.

Mira had never expected a seventeen-year-old girl carrying a ton of plastic candy canes to ask her about her love life, but that was the kind of thing that happened in the Christmas Village. The overall youth of the seasonal employees made her feel like she was back in high school.

But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was kind of nice, for a few seconds, to feel like she was back in the giddy, fizzy, anticipation-filled days of being young and in the middle of one hell of a crush.

“Nothing’s happening,” Mira said. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Not yet, anyway.”

“But it will?” Becky didn’t even wait to see if Mira would nod. “Good for you! He’s cute in a dad kind of way. Once you get the beard off, he’s like ... farmer’s market hot. Your generation says that, right?”

Farmer’s market hot . Mira had never heard that exact combination of words before, but it was easy to picture walking hand-in-hand with Wade through a farmer’s market. He wouldn’t complain about getting up early on a Saturday or her lingering over the scented candle and goat’s milk soap booths—he struck her as a guy who took life as it came and enjoyed what it had to offer. He would probably volunteer to carry her tote for her. What would he like to look at? As much fun as he was to fantasize about, she didn’t actually know him that well yet.

She wanted to.

Before the kids could come flooding in and get the day kicked off, Mira pulled out her phone—thankful once again that the Galadriel costume at least came with pockets—and opened her Notes app.

What do you like to get at farmer’s markets? she wrote.

As busy as she was going to be today, she didn’t want to count on her carol-oke rattled brain to remember a random question like that. If she thought of anything else she wanted to ask Wade when they finally got some uninterrupted time together, she would add it to the list. It was practical. It was elegant. It was the answer to the surprisingly relevant question of What Would Galadriel Do, if she was too busy ruling her sliver of Middle-Earth to go on a date.

Also, fine, she was losing her mind a little bit. But the holidays did that to you sometimes.

Mira steeled herself and picked up the carol-oke microphone. To start the day off on the right note, the mic instantly let out a high-pitched whine of feedback.

“Fantastic,” she said. “Off to a good start.”