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He smiled. “No. You’re perfect.” And with a snap of his fingers, we were standing beside the sleigh.
I did a twirl in front of the reindeer. “What do you think, girls?” They bobbed their heads and made snuffling noises.
“I think they approve,” Santa informed me. I stepped into the sleigh beside him, but before I could sit, he laid his hand on my shoulder. “Something’s missing.”
My mom used to say I had a wicked streak a mile wide. So maybe it was Evil Anthony who gently pressed Santa into a seated position, then sat in his lap, my arms looped around his neck. “Merry Christmas,” I whispered before leaning in to claim his mouth in a long, tender kiss.
When we parted, his eyes sparkled. “It is now.”
I pushed my plate aside. “That was amazing.” I’d expected turkey, or some other holiday meat, but the duck in orange sauce with dauphinoise potatoes, peas, and delicate slivers of carrot had been perfect. So had the creme brûlée.
But nowhere near as perfect as the man sitting opposite.
“Thank you.” Another flush crept up his neck. “You wouldn’t believe how long I took deciding on the menu. Not to mention pulling together all the ingredients.” I frowned, and he chuckled. “Where do you think the duck came from? Or the oranges for the sauce? There’s no supermarket here.”
“The duck?”
He nodded. “It was such a pity we had to eat her.”
“Her?”
“Her name was Rosanna. She had a beautiful nature.”
For the first time in my life, I was considering becoming a vegetarian. Then…
“Wait a minute.” I rolled my eyes. “You just quoted fromBabe, didn’t you?”
“Loved that pig.” His eyes twinkled. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. All food here is courtesy of magic, apart from the fruit and vegetables.”
“What—you can’t make them appear?”
“No, I grow them. I’ll show you some time.” He glanced toward the door. “I have to say, I felt incredibly guilty letting others do my job this evening.”
“Now wait a second. You delivered gifts toallthe world apart from the States and Europe. I don’t think you put your feet up and lazed the day away, do you? And even Santa is entitled to a night off. Well, part of a night.”
“You’re good for me,” he said with a smile.
“And think of all the overtime those mailmen will get paid,” I added. “You’ve given them a really good Christmas.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.” He sighed. “They need to be paid extra at Christmas anyway. Think of all the letters they have to sort.”
I leaned back in my chair. “All those letters written to Santa, addressed to the North Pole… You don’t have to read them all, do you?”
He gaped at me. “Of course I do.AndI make notes on every one I receive.”
“Seriously?”
Santa wiped his lips with his snowy white napkin, pushed his chair back, and crooked his finger. “Come with me.”
I followed him along a warmly lit hallway, to a wooden door. “My office,” he said as he opened it.
I stepped inside, and—
Wait. Wait just one minute.
The room was enormous, with row upon row of filing cabinets stretching back as far as the eye could see. The room had to be a mile long. Two miles.
My brain couldn’t take it in.
