Page 21 of Santa’s Lawyer

She followed Ander and Gregory down a series of new hallways. The further they strayed from the library, the more clinical and sterile her surroundings became. The floor was beige linoleum tile, the walls an institutional white. Ander and Gregory had ceased their banter.

They stopped in front of a plain white door.

“You can wait right in this room, Ms. Hoarfrost,” Ander said. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

“Good luck, dearie,” Gregory said, clicking his beak.

Avery entered a bare, white room with a fluorescent overhead light, a small metal table, and a mirror covering most of the opposite wall. There was nothing warm or whimsical in sight. It felt...off. Avery took a seat.

Moments later, a tall man with dark, slicked-back hair, a black goatee, and a Bluetooth headset whipped open the door.

Avery stood, smiled, and extended her hand. “Hi! I’m—”

The man held up a finger, silently bidding her to wait, as he looked at an electronic device in his palm. Avery stood quietly, waiting for him to explain when she would get to meet Santa. She regarded his black suit, grey tie, and black, shiny shoes with suspicion; he reminded her of a man who had once cut in front of her in line at a coffee shop in the financial district of the Big City.

“Just get it done, I gotta go, another interview,” he said, hanging up.

“Hi, I’m Avery Hoarfrost,” she said, trying again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi. Santa. Sit,” he commanded. He pulled an electronic pad out of his jacket pocket and busied himself tapping on the screen.

Avery slowly sat, eyebrows knitted together.

“You’re...Santa?”

After a moment, he looked up from his tablet. His eyes were not twinkling. “What’s that, April?”

“Avery. It’s...so nice to finally meet you,” she said, confused, but trying to recover her manners. “Here, this is for you.”

She slid the gift-wrapped box across the table.

He pocketed it without a word.

“So, you’re my new lawyer?” he asked, glancing up.

“Isn’t that what we’re here to discuss?”

“Did you pass the test?” he asked, impatience creeping into his voice.

“Well, there was quite a bit of bell-ringing today,” she said with a winning smile.

He stared at Avery, blank-faced.

Avery sobered up. “Yes, I passed the test. Louis said I was ready.”

“Louis, right,” he said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Great. You’re hired. So, from here on out, our conversations are privileged. Got it? You’re my lawyer now. The last guy, he wasn’t a Christmastime consigliere. Do you know what I mean? I need someone who can handle what’s about to go down.”

“What’s about to go down?” Avery asked.

“I’m selling Christmas,” he said, tapping the table with the stylus from his tablet.

Avery laughed, incredulous. “Sorry, what?”

“Selling it. The whole thing,” he said, fidgeting in his chair.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted. “How can you sell Christmas?”

“I’m immortal. I can do whatever I want,” he explained, pushing his chair back. He began pacing across the room. “Some private equity guys and I have been in talks for years. They’ve got the manufacturing and distribution worked out. I walk away with a few billion dollars, Christmas stays in the hands of the toy professionals, and the workshop gets stripped for parts. Some really valuable antiques in there.”