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“The Jingle Phone.” The voice is mid-range, petulant, and nothing short of bossy. “Surely you’ve heard it.”
“I’ve heard bells, sure, but that’s not—”
“Never mind that,” he snaps.
“Hey.” I take the phone back. “You’ll speak to her with respect, or you won’t speak to her at all.”
He scoffs. “Ohforgiiiivemefor being short when we have only 23 days, eight hours and 47 minutes until Christmas!”
Jocelyn covers her face with her hands. “Oh my God, I really killed Santa, didn’t I?”
“We received a Santa alert last night. It came from your premises, and then our line to Santa went silent. The North Pole has been on high alert ever since, and as head elf of the workshop, I’ve beentryingto contact you. After all, you only have 24 hours and change before you are required to select the new Santa. So I need you—”
“Select the new Santa?” Jocelyn says between her fingers.
The guy gives a long, labored sigh. “The hat, Jocelyn. The hat. You choose the new Santa by placing the hat on his head. If you don’t get it done within 48 hours of the Santa alert, Christmas will be canceled.”
“Canceled?” Jocelyn’s voice sounds strangled.
“That’s what I said.”
“But how do I find another Santa? Like, at the mall?”
“That’s the easy part. All you have to do to ensure that Christmas goes off without a hitch is find the perfect Santa candidate,” he chirps. “It’s simple. We prefer older, typically over 50 or so, a round belly—or dadbod as the kids say these days—” He laughs, a tinkling, wheezy sound, then clears his throat. “White hair, white beard, and most importantly, a giving spirit. The best man you’ve ever met, who cares for others, who is generous, and who loves children. You must place the hat on his head. Then,voila, we’ll have our much-needed Santa.”
“She’s supposed to find this guy in two days?” I don’t know if I’m going along with all this, but the look on Jocelyn’s face tells me she believes it. “How?”
“Actually, she has just over one day. The Santa alert sounded at approximately eight o’clock last night, which means—”
“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 nomagicat 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.
