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People wore every item of clothing they possessed, everything wrapped around them, some already layered with newspaper sheets and magazines in preparation for the cold night ahead.
For a few, short minutes of a long night, these people got a chance of warmth.
“Merry Christmas, Simon.” I smiled as I passed the old gent his soup bowl.
Simon spit out his thanks, muttering under his breath and nodding as his hands trembled around the edges of the bowl. He shuffled over to one side of the room, not sitting at the bench tables where everybody else jammed in together. He stopped with his back to a corner and watched the rest of the room.
Simon wasn’t alone in his ways—many of the homeless had an aversion to proximity to other people, but around Christmas some of those regulars tended to drop away. Well it was the time of sadness for some when it was a season of hope for others. I saw both in this room.
I ladled out my next bowl while keeping an eye on the line, unable to sweep the sad ring out of my Merry Christmas this time.
“Trade.” Zander rapped my ladle holding hand with his knuckles.
I looked up into Zander’s dark eyes. A flash of concern, hot on the heels of something else I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to discern flickered there, but the shadow dissipated into his usual clear gaze within a second.
Where gaze at the event sent electric jolts streaming through my body, all I felt now was his warmth... and maybe his pity.
No, that wasn’t fair. He didn’t look at these people like they were in need of his pity, nor did he shy away from them. Zander Klauss was a mystery of his own making and one I was determined to crack
“What’s up?”
“Stew’s on the boil.” He sent me a crooked grin that sent a different sort of jolt racing through my body. “I didn’t think you’d want your masterpiece to be ruined.”
“Hey,” I protested. “I cook pretty well.”
“That she does.” A young woman with two small children trailing her on either side smiled tightly at me from across the counter as I passed bowls over to Zander on automatic. “Juniper is one of our best cooks. My kids don’t go hungry if we eat here for the night.”
“Merry Christmas,” I whispered, horrified when tears picked the backs of my eyes.
I always tried to maintain a happy, or at worst, a neutral facade here. Pity and sympathy weren’t emotions that the soup kitchen warranted. Compassion was acceptable, and that was where the line was drawn.
I swallowed and nodded jerkily. “I’ll get back to my soup.”
Zander tossed me a short look over his shoulder, watching me as I crossed the small kitchen that was only big enough for two people abreadth at a time. We made do with what we had. I turned down the heat, conscious of his attention on me for a second until he turned back to his work. From then on we completed our jobs in silence.
By the end of the night, my feet and shoulders ached and my cheeks glowed far too warm, though I was certain I suited my elf costume to a tee. Getting up early in the morning to prep for Zander, then staying late at night at the soup kitchen had pushed me to the edge of my own exhaustion.
Nettie, the owner of the kitchen who I worked for usually both day and night, gave me a squeeze around the waist, and untied my apron. Go home, Juniper,” she murmured. “And take your lovely young man with you. What was your name, sir?”
Zander shrugged, his gaze sliding sideways to meet mine for a brief moment before he returned his gaze to Nettie. “I’m just here to help.” He untied his apron after wiping the benchtop down. “Do you need help closing up here?”
Nettie shook her head. “Oh, no. I have Frankie to help me fix everything up and get me home safe. You two toddle along. Thank you.” She met my gaze and then Zander’s, and her attention turned a little sharper. I wondered if she recognised him. Zander’s face was prominent, even if he hadn’t been seen for several years until I dragged him out of his glass castle. “Have a good evening and make sure you get Juniper home safely.”
I opened my mouth to protest but Zander nodded, his face serious. “Of course.”
He grazed his fingers along my spine as he helped me into my coat and into the night.“How far do you have to go?” he asked gruffly.
“Ten blocks? I think?” I tried to count in my head but my mind blanked, despite that I walked those miles daily.
“I'll drive you.” His tone brooked no argument.
I huffed out a breath. Zander Klauss might be used to getting his way, but he hadn't, and the right in my life to command it.
“Aren't I supposed to be the one telling you what you do all day? I am the PA after all,” I threw back at him, cheekily, then shook my head.Christmas spirit. Embody me, bitch.“No, I'm fine. I’ll walk. I always do.”
“Even on colder nights when—at least, for us—the temperature is abominable, and you're likely to be drenched in rain by the time you get home?” He raised an eyebrow.
Touche.I clenched my teeth together and forced a smile. It wasn’t like I had an alternative available to me, unless I hailed one of the many loitering cabs around the block. “Even then...”
