And hell, maybe she’s right? I’ve tried everything else. My last resort was going to be standing in the middle of a bar and yelling, “Anyone here want me?”
Which probably would not have ended well.
“Okay fine. I’ll go ask Santa Claus for a man.”
“Yay!” she squeals. “That’s the Christmas spirit."
I must admit that entering Santa’s Village is magical. I know it’s just a fake place the mall builds every year, but the Christmas music is louder past the white gates, and Christmas lights decorate every surface.
“Welcome to the North Pole!” A portly man dressed as an elf greets. “Just to let you know, Santa has lots of houses to visit tonight, so we’re closing in about ten minutes to get his sleigh and the reindeer ready. So make sure to grab your last-minute hot chocolates and gifts!”
“Oh darn, guess we missed the window for Santa then!” I chirp.
I try to turn away, but Holly tugs me back, smiling at the elf. “Thank you! We’re gonna get in line for Santa.”
He looks between us, obviously not used to seeing two grown women here to see Santa.
“We know him, he’s expecting us,” Holly says, brooking no argument.
The man appears stunned, but finally dips his chin. “Okay, but you’ll be the last ones for the night. Technically the line has been cut off—like I said, Santa is a very busy man tonight.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I’ll give it to this mall-elf. He’s committed to his craft, but I can also relate to the fact he wants to go home. It’s nearly seven o'clock on Christmas Eve. I’m sure he has a family he wants to see. Or at least a warm bed.
“Thanks so much,” Holly looks at his nametag, “Tinsel. You’re the best.”
The man laughs at her antics and directs us toward the line that’s about five kids deep in front of Santa’s cabin door. Next to it is Santa’s Workshop, where more animatronic elves are working on toys and putting them into a sleigh.
“We should just go,” I whisper to Holly after Tinsel has left. “It’s Christmas Eve, we don’t want to keep any of the workers or your dad here longer than we have to.”
She waves her hand. “My dad loves volunteering to do this, trust me, one more person is not going to bother him. And you won’t take that long anyway. You’re just one extra person.”
I press my lips together. I told Holly I would do this and I know it’s useless fighting her now. Once she has an idea, she’s like a dog with a bone.
Five minutes later the line is already down to me and a blond boy. He’s yapping to his mom about how good he’s been, and what he wants Santa to get him for Christmas.
In no time he’s called in, leaving Holly and me in line. A pretty woman dressed up as an elf with the nametag “Santa’s Helper” comes out of the cabin and smiles at us.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” we both say back.
“What’s your child's name?” She looks around us, in search of said child, and my cheeks heat.
“No kids,” Holly says. “Just us. I’m Holly and this is Vixen.”
“Vixen?”
I’ve had my name my whole life. Since I’m adopted, and never met my birth parents, I have no idea why the name was chosen, but I love it. It was a difficult name to go through school with as a kid, but I learned to embrace it. It suits me and my curves. And it makes me feel powerful—or at least it did. The dating scene has seriously killed my confidence, but hopefully Santa can work some Christmas magic for me, and change my luck.
“Yes, that’s my name.”
She clears her throat. “That’s so unique. And festive.”
I half smile at her. “That it is.”
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
My shoulders straighten and my stomach flips at the joyful trademark expression coming from inside the cabin.
