Page 2 of Santa’s Lawyer

“Very funny,” Avery said, rolling her eyes. He knew that she and her mom had seen nearly every Christmas film ever made. They would start their movie marathon each year with It’s a Wonderful Life and work their way through a massive, ever-growing list, occasionally supplemented by Santa at their annual visit. They saved the best for last, of course: every Christmas morning brought waffles, hot chocolate, and The Muppet Christmas Carol.

Toward the end, in her mom’s hospital room, Christmas movies played in the background on an endless, soothing loop, the way others might listen to rainfall or whale songs.

“Oh, you’re right,” she said with another sigh. “The tree farm isn’t the answer. But I need a change. A big one.”

“I wouldn’t give up your legal career just yet. I think you’re destined for great things,” Santa said, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder.

“I only seem to be good at two things,” she lamented. “Managing high-stakes legal operations where the entire world seems to be counting on me, and Christmas.”

Avery looked up at Santa, who was smiling back at her, eyes twinkling. She heard the sound of a bell ringing from somewhere inside the candle warehouse.

“That must be your cue to get back to the workshop,” she said, taking off Santa’s coat and handing it back.

“Oh, that’s not what that bell means,” Santa said, donning his jacket. “But you’re right. I should get going, and so should you, young lady.”

Avery reached into her shopping bag and pulled out a small tin canister of scented room spray. “I’m not feeling very young these days,” she said, spritzing a cloud of perfumed mist in front of herself and Santa. They both leaned forward and inhaled deeply.

“Hmm. What’s that one called?” Santa asked.

Avery showed him the label. “Christmas Magic,” she answered, reading off the back of the bottle. “Balsam, cedar, birch, and eucalyptus. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” She sprayed a little on her shirt so she could smell it on the ride home.

“I love that one,” Santa agreed. “You know, there’s something else you might want to consider before making any decisions.” Santa reached into his pocket, pulled out a green-and-gold business card, and offered it to her.

“Yule of Law,” Avery read with a laugh. “What is it?”

“It’s a Christmas pun on ‘Rule of Law.’ But that’s not important right now,” Santa replied.

“Oh, brother,” Avery said with a groan, mocking exasperation.

“Ho, ho, ho! I couldn’t resist,” Santa said, holding his belly while he laughed. “Yule of Law is a recruiting agency. For lawyers like you, who really love Christmas. They know their stuff.”

Avery smiled but raised a skeptical brow. “That’s…specific.”

“Indeed, it is,” Santa agreed. “But they might be able to find you an opportunity that’s more suitable.”

Avery took the card. At least a job application would keep her mind occupied. It was in the quiet moments that grief searched for an opening. She looked at Santa, cocked her head to the side, and held out her arms for a hug.

Santa smiled and embraced her, patting her solidly on the back and giving her a squeeze. “I’m proud of you, Avery. Whatever you decide.”

Her breath caught in her throat as unexpected tears welled up in her eyes. “Thanks,” she squeaked out.

As they parted ways, the two looked back over their shoulders at the same time.

“Merry Christmas!” they said in unison.

Avery slipped the business card into her shirt pocket and began the drive back to the Big City.

CHAPTER TWO

THE BIG CITY

Avery returned to her apartment and flipped a switch. Not the switch for the overhead light, but the comically large Master Christmas Switch, the one connected to the giant surge protector which powered the hundreds of Christmas lights, trains, and other electric holiday novelties stationed throughout her already fully-decorated home. As soon as she’d given away her last full-sized candy bars to the trick-or-treaters the night before, she’d donned her Santa hat, taken the neatly labeled plastic bins full of lights and decorations out of her closet, and gotten to work creating her annual winter wonderland. Like her mom and grandmother always did.

She looked around appraisingly at the glowing, blinking, twinkling masterpiece that surrounded her. A nagging feeling in her gut insisted that something was missing. Everything was in its place, but she felt emptier than she should, like an unstuffed stocking over the fireplace on Christmas morning.

Avery slowly made her way down the hall, running her fingertips along the framed photos on the wall: precious images of childhood Christmases never to be recreated. She, her mom, and her grandmother were decorating the tree. Baking cookies. Singing carols. And there were three dozen souvenir photos of Avery, her mom, and the Candle Emporium Santa Claus, one from each of her visits, arranged in chronological order. She walked past them, from youngest to oldest, watching herself age over the course of just a few moments. It was the same day each year, at the same candle store, with the same Santa. For the first time, she saw the photo collection not as a celebration of tradition, but as a sign of stagnation. She missed the old days. But now she also ached for something new.

She sniffed the air. Cookies. Surely that’s what was missing.