Page 6 of Santa’s Lawyer

Louis stopped under the low branch of a maple tree, its orange-gold leaves still fully committed to autumn. But the rapidly chilling air was testing that commitment, and a delicate frost now crept onto the edge of each leaf.

“A gift? For me?” he asked.

“I made them myself. The box is lined with foil, so I think maybe they’re still a little warm.”

Across the street, the workers decorating the bookstore window exited the shop, and the bell atop the shop door rang clear and bright on the otherwise empty avenue.

“Miraculous,” Louis said, shaking his head. He reached his hands forward to accept the box from Avery. His fingers met with hers. He looked down to where their hands touched and smiled before slowly withdrawing the box from her grip.

Avery’s heart grew at least three sizes and threatened to burst.

He opened the lid and took a whiff. “Oh, Christmas,” he moaned, closing his eyes, until a rustling sound on the branch directly above his head made him jump. “So sorry, I have to go!” he exclaimed, hurrying away from the tree and brushing something out of his hair.

Avery stood under the tree and watched him as he walked briskly away. She saw him pause under a streetlamp up ahead, open the box, inspect a cookie, and take a bite.

“Good grief!” she heard him yell. He leaned against the lamp pole for support.

Avery was deeply satisfied that someone was finally reacting appropriately to her baking. “Merry Christmas!” she yelled after him.

Louis looked over his shoulder, swatted at something above his head, and broke out into a run.

Avery had never been so flattered by someone sprinting in the other direction. He was a bit odd, but then again, so was she. And he liked her. That much was clear.

Putting on her headphones, Avery found the White Christmas soundtrack on her phone and floated down the city sidewalks back to her apartment to the sound of Danny Kaye singing The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing. She even allowed herself a dramatic twirl when she was sure no one was looking.

Avery was officially smitten and wondered where Louis was staying. She was glad she didn’t know, fearing she might show up unannounced to throw herself at him. She’d never felt chemistry with anyone like that before. And she’d never met anyone who loved Christmas as much as she did. Plus, he was charming, successful, and had a British accent. And he loved her baking. What more could a girl want?

As she approached her block, her phone chimed. A text from Louis. Her heart leaped.

“Dear Avery,

Thank you for joining me for a lovely dinner. Here is a direct link to the application. Read it carefully. On behalf of myself and, well, everyone, I do hope you’ll submit.

Sincerely yours,

Louis

P.S. Thank you for the cookies. They were life-changing.”

She shimmied her shoulders in celebration and clicked the link as she continued her glide home.

The application was mercifully pre-filled with her personal information from the résumé she’d already uploaded. Before she could click “submit,” she had to review the terms and conditions, which included a lengthy, but seemingly boilerplate, non-disclosure agreement. She noted with some amusement that whoever had written this document had taken the time to infuse it with Christmas terminology, probably to see if anyone was actually reading.

But Avery felt her attention waning as she waited at the crosswalk for the light to change. Her eyes roved over the NDA. How many of these had she read in her life? Probably thousands by now. She flicked her thumb upward against the screen as she crossed the street, scanning the paragraphs until she reached the bottom and clicked “I Accept.”

A prompt appeared on the screen, with two buttons:

THANK YOU FOR ACCEPTING THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS. ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO SUBMIT YOUR APPLICATION?

YES

OR

LET ME READ THROUGH EVERYTHING ONE MORE TIME

Avery unlocked the front door to her building while reading. She chuckled, tapping “YES.”

Yet another prompt appeared as she got on the elevator and greeted her neighbors: