Return to Christmas by Anne Stuart

Author:Anne Stuart [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Impeccably Demure Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Madison breathed a sigh of tentative relief, turning to look around her. She was at the edge of Santa’s Village, the long, roped lines that usually snaked through the place empty except for a couple of harried-looking mothers at the front, being corralled by a sour-looking elf. For a moment, the elf in A Christmas Story came to mind, and she almost felt dizzy with the temporal ramifications of that one. An old movie that was far in the future depicting times even earlier than these current ones, which were way in the past as well, and God, her head was going to explode.

One woman headed past her, a giggling child beside her as they raced toward the escalator, and then she heard an ominous noise from the floor beneath. She didn’t have to look to know that Benny hadn’t given up, that he was coming back for her.

She moved quickly into Santa’s hallowed space, only to have Grumpy the Elf glare at her. “Santa’s tired,” the girl snapped, “and you don’t have a kid. No one sits on Santa’s lap without a kid.”

“I work here, “ she shot back, dodging her and her jingling green felt clothing. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Ho, ho, ho.” The big man rose from his seat, handing his final visitor, a laughing little girl of four or five, back to her mother. He glanced over at them from behind his wired-rimmed glasses and extravagant white eyebrows, as the elf followed her, trying to stop her escape.

The man was a giant, and she couldn’t remember whether she’d seen him in regular clothes or not. She knew their number one Santa was down with the flu, his back-up had been fired for being drunk on the job, and the third, unfortunately, disliked children and had been loud and clear about it in the cafeteria. Whoever they’d gotten to take his place clearly had a better touch with them—the little girl hadn’t wanted to let go, and the boy she’d seen looked only marginally happier than his beaming, middle-aged mother.

“What’s going on, Peevy?” Santa said in that thick, jolly voice, and Madison had to resist her sudden amusement. Peevy was a perfect name for the elf.

“Store’s closing and she’s refusing to leave,” Peevy whined. “Says she works here.”

“You go on ahead,” Santa rumbled from deep in his large belly. “I’ll look after her. You want to talk to Santa, little girl?”

Peevy had disappeared before Santa had finished speaking, and Madison looked at him warily. She needed to hide—she knew in her heart that Benny was coming after her, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Sorry, Santa,” she said. “As Peevy said I’m too grown up for your lap, and you probably want to go home...er...back to the North Pole too.” Everyone at the store had strict orders to treat whoever was serving as Santa as the real thing, even if he was your best friend, and Madison was game. Her cynicism had always come to a halt in the face of a cheerful old man in a red suit.

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