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“What?”
“You playing Santa,” Damon says with amusement. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Might have had something to do with the person asking him,” Juliette states.
“I didn’t want to let the kids down,” I say, helping myself to one of the pastries in the middle of the table.
“I’m sure they’ll be rolling in the aisles when they hear your subordinate clauses joke,” James points out.
“I have better ones,” I reply. “What do you get when you cross Santa with a duck?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
“A Christmas quacker.”
He rolls his eyes as everyone else laughs. “That’s my cue to move on,” he says, and changes the subject.
I eat the pastry, pretending I’m listening to what he’s saying. But it’s hard not to think about Missie and what I’ve just agreed to do.
Me, playing Santa? Jesus, what the hell is the woman doing to me?
*
I arrive at the primary school at ten-thirty, and make my way to the school field, Zelda trotting by my side. Luckily it’s a glorious day. The sun is already beaming, and there’s hardly any wind.
The field is all ready for the opening of the fair at eleven. Stalls around the edge of the field are selling homemade Christmas crafts and toys and all kinds of food from cakes to sweets to pulled-pork buns. There are donkey rides and pre-loved fashion stalls and tables where you can make your own Christmas decorations, live music, face painting, and a bouncy castle. There are probably summer fairs being held like this all over the country, and it takes me right back to my childhood, and gives me a pang of nostalgia for a more innocent time.
I ask one of the teachers where Missie is, and she directs me to a large tent. I go over and duck under the flap, bringing Zelda with me, and find myself in a Christmas grotto. She’s strung fairy lights all the way around and bedecked it in tinsel. A large, dressed tree stands beside Santa’s big red chair. A smaller chair nearby is presumably where the kids sit, with a couple of others to one side for parents or caregivers.
I walk up to where she’s stringing yet another set of fairy lights around Santa’s chair. She’s standing on a step, reaching up, and her T-shirt has risen up to reveal the section of pale skin above the line of her shorts.
Another teacher is standing next to her, untangling the lights. She catches my eye and gives me an impish smile, obviously noting the way I was checking Missie out. I give her a wry look and say, “Hello.”
Missie’s head snaps around and she wobbles on the stool. I stretch out a hand, and she grabs it.
“Oh,” she says. “You came!”
I wait for her to steady herself. “You didn’t think I would?” I don’t bother to hide my indignation that she thought I’d back out when I’d given my word.
She meets my eyes and smiles. “Of course you would. I should have known better.” She looks at where I’m still holding her hand. “Thank you, I’ve got my balance now.”
Reluctantly, I release her, and she finishes off pinning up the lights, then gets down to greet Zelda. “Hello girl!” she says, kissing her head. “I’m sure you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.”
“She’s eating me out of house and home,” I tell her. “I’m sure she’s doubling her weight every other day.”
She laughs, straightening. “This is Carly. Carly, this is Alex.”
“That’s Mr. Claus to you,” I advise, and she grins as I shake her hand. She’s around the same age as Missie, wearing shorts and a blue tee, with blonde hair in a ponytail.
“Look at you, all hot and summery,” Missie says, gesturing to my outfit. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you in civvies.”
I look down at myself—I’m wearing beige cargo shorts and a plain gray tee. “I thought I might get hot under the costume.”
“It’s going to be thirty degrees today,” Carly says. “You should probably strip everything off so you don’t cook.”
“Carly,” Missie scolds, and her friend grins.
“I think your principal might have something to say if she knew Santa was going commando,” I reply, and they both laugh.
