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“Yeah, we get it. But why can’t you just come get the hat and pick a Santa yourself?”
“Yes!” Jocelyn nods furiously. “Yes, do that!”
“No.” The voice seems to narrow, getting sharper. “Though I would enjoy handling this myself, it’s firmly against the code for anyone from the North Pole to choose the next Santa. Office politics can get ugly. I’m sure you understand. You have the hat. The hat does the choosing.”
“No, she doesn’t understand. Neither do I.”
“It’s simple. Jocelyn de-hatted the last Santa—”
“De-hatted? I don’t follow.” I’m starting to think I should’ve just let her toss my phone out the window.
“The last Santa has departed this holly-filled life. As Jocelyn was the one responsible for de-hatting Santa, she is the one who is responsible for locating the next Santa. You are the only one who can find the most pure of heart, dedicated, and jolly candidate. The hat will tell you who that is.”
“What if she doesn’t want to?”
He finally shuts his mouth. Then, after a few beats, he says, “If Jocelyn decides not to award the hat to an appropriate candidate, then I’m afraid this Christmas will be canceled.”
“You can’t cancel Christmas.” I shake my head at the phone.
“People can still have celebrations, and trees, sure.” Speaking slowly, he truly sounds sad, as if saying these words hurts him. “But there will be no special gifts under the tree made by the North Pole elves. No reindeer flying through the sky. Put simply, if no Santa is chosen, there will be no magic at Christmas, ever again.”
“This isn’t real. Is this real?” Jocelyn’s tone is pleading as she looks at me. “Mac, am I losing my mind?”
“I hear the elf, same as you.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “You’re not crazy. Or maybe we both are.”
“I have to go. Production has been shut down ever since the alarm sounded. We’re behind, and if we don’t work twice as hard as we ever have, we won’t have the sleigh loaded for the big day. Choose wisely. Christmas depends on it.” The call ends.
I toss my phone on the dash and stare at it, then look over at Jocelyn.
She’s pale, her eyes wide. I reach for her and pull her into my lap again. Leaning my seat back, I get her comfortably seated on me as I stare into her eyes.
“So the man you saw at your house … Was he dressed like—”
“Santa.” She gives a solemn nod.
“Did he say who he was?”
“He said his name was Nicholas.”
“What happened, exactly?”
She takes a deep breath. I grab her hands and hold them in mine, warming them as she tells me what happened in her workshop and how the hat keeps showing up.
The snow is falling faster by the time she’s done.
I glance at the diner. “Come on.” I throw open my door and pick her up, carrying her down from the truck and setting her on her feet.
“But I only have a day to find a jolly, older, pure of heart guy who loves children!” Her voice is shrill.
“First, you need to eat.” I open the diner door for her, then lead her to a booth and sit beside her. “Then, we’re heading back to my place to figure this out, okay?”
I give the server our order. He eyes us like he’s trying to figure out where we’re going to put all the food. He doesn’t have to worry. I can put it away, and I’m going to make sure my lil bit is stuffed and happy before we leave here.
“It’s going to be okay.” I stroke her hair from her forehead.
“But I killed Santa,” she whispers as her eyes water.
I kiss her gently, tasting and caressing as she slowly unwinds. I cup her cheek, comforting her as I soothe away her fear one kiss at a time. When our food arrives, she’s breathless, and her cheeks are pink. I’m glad the table hides my bottom half, because I’m hard as a rock and hungry for more.
“First, we eat.” I scoop up some crispy, cheesy hashbrowns and feed it to her.
She takes it, shy at first, then closing her eyes as she chews. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
“We’ll figure this out,” I tell her again, feeding her more.
None of this seems possible, but if Lil Bit believes it, then it’s real to her. That means it’s real to me. I’m here for her, no matter what.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in all this.” She sips her tea.
“If it has anything to do with you, I want to be part of it. And you should know, lil bit,” I offer her another forkful of waffle, and she takes it as I lean in close. “I would’ve helped you hide the body. And I always will.”
12
JOCELYN
I should not be turned on by the idea that Mac would help me bury a body if I asked. Even so, I must admit that is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.
