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When I’d finally made my way to the doors, Santa cocked his head, and I pointed at the sweets table.
He shook his head.
I scowled.
A parent tapped my shoulder, and I dashed to the table where my four trays of fudge sat.
“Miss, what on earth are you doing?” Santa asked as the crowd fell silent.
“It’s my fudge.”
Santa shook his head. “The fudge is for a good cause.”
I grabbed the stack, nodding. “Yes, it is.”
“Miss, put the fudge down.”
“It’s my fudge.”
“It’s the charity’s fudge.”
I glanced at the crowd looking at me. “It’s meant for the bazaar. I just dropped it off in the wrong room.”
Santa shook his head. “I’ve been here the entire time, and I don’t recall you delivering those trays.”
I stomped my foot, and the crowd hushed. “You winked at me.”
“I don’t wink.”
Completely exasperated, I shook my head, clutching my fudge. “Look, I’m sure your party is for a good cause, too, but I was up all night making this for the holiday bazaar. I’m exhausted. All eyes are on me. I just want to deliver the fudge to where it belongs, do a little shopping, and go home to make a pot roast for a man who isn’t responding to my texts.”
Millie walked into the room and came over to help me with the fudge. She glanced at Santa and twirled her finger next to her head before draping her small arms over my shoulders.
“Maybe we should just let them have the fudge,” Millie whispered.
“No, it’s my fudge until someone buys it, and I will get it to where it needs to go.”
Millie tried not to chuckle as the crowd of parents and children parted to let us out of Santa’s workshop when I noticed a sign.
Santa’s Holiday Workshop
Noon – Five O’clock: Santa Visits
Five O’clock: Mr. Claus’s Sweet Auction Benefiting Elder Care of Wisconsin
Six O’clock: Spaghetti dinner
“Oh, no.” I shook my head.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” She shook her head.
I groaned in complete embarrassment. “Great. Hunter spends his life donating money to hospitals, and I spend mine taking it away. At least when Grace stole her food back from a wedding, it was a wedding… not a charity.”
“It was only fudge, dear. It’s going to be just fine.” She took two of the trays from the stack and laughed.
“I think I’m just exhausted and confused.” We started walking back to the bazaar.
“Confused? Over what?”
