“When I said I was up for anything, I didn’t expect this.” Adam looked around at the elves as they busied themselves in Santa’s Grotto. “There’s no way I’m putting this outfit on.”
The elf suit consisted of green and red striped leggings, a green velvet jacket, pixie boots, and a jaunty little hat. I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“I’ve got to wear one, too. Come on, Adam. They’re so short-handed today and the local schools are coming up to see Santa. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them this close to Christmas, would you?” I asked.
“No, and I don’t want to disappoint you either,” he said, stealing a kiss behind the head elf’s back. “You already gave me that sad look of yours when I told you the potential buyers were coming back this weekend for another look.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing I needed to be more supportive. “I’ll work all weekend and do whatever it takes to help you. I know how important the sale is to you.”
“Thanks, Faith,” he said.
The head elf, Robin, was running around in a panic. Today was the busiest day of the year at Santa’s Grotto because it was the Friday before Christmas and the last day of school. Unfortunately, half of the elves were out sick with the flu. It was all hands on deck today and that included Adam’s hands, which were holding the offending costume out in front of him.
I took the outfit from him and held it up to his chest. “You’re about the same height as your dad, and he wore this costume every year. Pretty please?”
He took the outfit. “You know I can’t disappoint the kids.”
“Thank you,” I said. With so many out sick, I’d been up there all morning, helping out with baking mince pies and feeding the live reindeer we had on-site, but when another two had fallen ill, I had had to bring in costumed reinforcements in the shape of Adam and me.
A few minutes later, Adam emerged from the dressing room. For a moment, I was taken aback by how much he looked like a younger version of his dad in the same suit Mr. Kline had worn, both in the annual parade and on days like today.
Adam put his hands on his hips. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You look amazing. Hottest elf I’ve ever seen,” I said, with a wink. “Is that mistletoe still up in your office?”
Before Adam could answer, Cookie (the mince pie maker) came in, her nose redder than Rudolph’s.
“Don’t tell me you’re sick, too?” I asked sympathetically, watching her nod her head and then blow her nose. “Go home and get into bed. We’ll manage here. Get well soon.”
Adam turned to me. “So, mince pies it is then?”
I nodded. There were some jobs that could be overlooked at the Grotto, but mince pie making wasn’t one of them. As we trudged through the snow to Cookie’s kitchen, I pointed out various parts of the tiny village that Mr. Kline had built in the forest.
“Okay, well, that’s Cookie’s kitchen straight ahead of us, and next to that is the workshop,” I said. The village was made up of a series of log cabins, all very different and full of character. Cookie’s was made in the style of a gingerbread house, with white icing on the eaves, and candy cane posts holding the fence in place.
The workshop was where Tinker made wooden toys, and was built to resemble an old-fashioned train carriage. On the other side of the gingerbread house stood Scrib’s post office, which took on the appearance of a parcel wrapped up in brown paper.
“And there, in the middle, is Santa’s Grotto.”
Santa’s place was magical, and took my breath away every time I came up here. Bigger than the rest of the cabins, it was warm and inviting, with candlelight flickering in the windows, and a huge Christmas tree in the garden. Two rocking chairs—one red, and one green—sat on the front porch, and permanent reindeer prints had been pressed into the roof, which was sprayed daily with a soft, iridescent glitter so that it glinted and shone, whichever angle you looked at it from and no matter how much it snowed.
Children came from far and wide to experience the magic, and every cabin was a working one, meaning visitors could walk in and out, and even help out baking the pies or hammering a toy. Mr. Kline had spent years honing it, and the attention to detail was amazing.
“I can see why you love this place so much,” Adam said.
“What do you mean?” I turned around and looked at him, and then tried to keep a straight face. But seeing Adam standing in the snow dressed in a green velvet jacket and striped leggings was more than I could bear, and I started laughing. “I’ve got to take a selfie, come here.”
“You mean an elfie?” he quipped. My cell phone gave a click just as I made a face at his terrible joke, which made us both laugh even harder.
“Okay, we’re here,” I said, the smell of smoke wafting up my nose as I opened the door. Uh-oh, that wasn’t usual. Also, smoke billowed out from the oven.
“I’m not much for cooking, but—”
“Oh, no. Cookie left mince pies in the oven!” I threw open the windows and began fanning the air with a hand towel, while Adam grabbed the offending pies from the oven and threw them in a trashcan. I grinned at him. “Okay, elf, it’s time to get your hands dirty.”
I couldn’t remember ever having this much fun as Adam and I got elbow deep in flour, and made batch after batch of fresh mince pies. He was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen for being an amateur, and I told him so.
“I have many talents, young lady,” he murmured, stealing another kiss before the next group of excited children came in.
I looked above me. “There’s no mistletoe.”
“So?”
There was a knock on the door and Adam jumped up to answer it, ushering in the next group of children. Wide-eyed and innocent, they sat down as Adam told them stories, tales he made up on the spur of the moment, just like Mr. Kline had been known to do. As I poured hot chocolate into mugs, I watched him. He had started the day so far out of his comfort zone, but the way he had slipped into the role made me fall for him a little bit more.
He caught my eye over the children’s heads and smiled, melting my heart. I felt a little sad, thinking about how much both Mr. Kline and Adam had missed out on without performing like this together.
One of the children caught Adam looking at me. “Is that your sister?” he asked, looking from Adam to me and then back again.
Adam smiled again, and leaned in to the children. “No, that’s not my sister, that’s my girlfriend.” The children all giggled, and my stomach did a cartwheel from the declaration.
When I finally closed the door after the last child had left, I let out a sigh of relief. It had been great fun, but so tiring, and I was ready for a night in with a TV dinner and a glass of wine. Adam slipped his arms around my waist and turned me around to face him.
“So what do you think?” he asked in a low voice.
My eyebrows lifted. “What do I think about what?”
“About being my girlfriend?” he asked. His expression became serious and he straightened the pointed hat on the top of my head. “I know this seems like an impossible situation, Faith, but . . . I’ve fallen for you.”
And there, in Cookie’s kitchen, the girl elf told the boy elf that she’d fallen for him, too. Then they shared a long, lingering kiss, the jingle bells on the tips of her pixie boots tinkling merrily as she rose up on her toes again to meet his lips.