Page 44 of The Very Naughty List

A woman named Tina is in charge of organizing the volunteers, and she leads us all into the storage area where all of the supplies for the workshop are kept.

“You three.” She points to me, Maeve, and Amanda. “You’re on wreath duty. The wreath will go on Santa’s door, so it needs to look good. There are supplies in a couple of tubs somewhere, marked ‘wreath.’ Get to it.”

Maeve gives a perky smile, gesturing for me and Amanda to follow her. “I’m pretty sure I know where it’s kept,” she tells us. “Hailey, since you’ve been out of town, I know you’re a bit behind on how we do it, but we’ve been building a new wreath every year to keep things fresh.”

“Sounds great,” I say unenthusiastically.

She leads us over to a corner of the storage space, frowning slightly as she takes in the somewhat haphazardly organized supplies. “They’re around here somewhere. Oh, wait, I know. They’re in the crawlspace. We thought it would be better because it’s more dry.”

Maeve gestures to a metal ladder bolted to a nearby wall. It leads to a tiny door about halfway up the wall.

Jesus. I grimace as I look at it. How is it worth it to store the wreath materials in there? Personally, I would’ve just let them get dank and musty if it came down to it.

“Hailey.” Maeve raises a brow at me. “Do you mind getting them? I’m not wearing good shoes for a ladder, and yours seem so… practical.”

She gestures from her high heels to my boots, and irritation prickles through me.

“Sure,” I mutter. “I’d love to.”

Without waiting for her to respond, I march over to the ladder and start climbing, yanking the metal door open as soon as I reach it. The crawl space isn’t wide at all, but it’s deep enough that I have to crawl all the way into it to grab the materials. I clench my jaw, muttering curses under my breath as I clamber off the ladder and into the small, dark storage area. I don’t like confined spaces, but I wasn’t going to admit that to Maeve, especially not when she was clearly already trying to get under my skin.

I’ll just grab the wreath materials quickly and then get down.

Crawling on my hands and knees, I make my way toward the back of the space, heading for the plastic tubs that should have what I need. A creaking sound catches my attention, and I glance over my shoulder as the door I just came through swings shut.

The light cuts off immediately, and my pulse spikes.

“Shit,” I whisper.

My hand scrabbles in my back pocket for my phone, and when I finally manage to turn the flashlight on, my breathing evens out a little. Instead of continuing on toward the tubs, I turn back to the door, wanting to prop it open so I won’t lose the light again.

But when I try to open it, it won’t budge.

Oh fuck.

My heart rate leaps again, and even though I’ve still got the light of the flashlight, it’s not enough. Because now I’m trapped in here, and the panic I was holding at bay a moment ago is rising hard and fast, like a tsunami wave racing toward shore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, shoving hard at the door. “Hey! Can anyone hear me? Maeve! I’m stuck!”

No one answers me, and my stomach twists. How thick is this door? Can they really not hear me?

From down below, I swear I hear a small burst of laughter. My skin chills, my voice going quiet. Was that Maeve? Maybe shecanhear me, but instead of coming to help, she and the others are just laughing at me. It’s childish and petty and just plain fucking mean, but that doesn’t mean it’s above them, if their past behavior is anything to go by.

Dammit. Why did I ever agree to do this?

Anger surges through me, and I work harder to get the door open, this time even kicking it with my heel, but it still doesn’t budge. The exertion only makes my heart thud harder, and I can feel myself inching closer to a full panic attack. Every breath is short and choppy, but I can’t seem to slow them down.

My phone is still clutched in my hand, the small beam of the flashlight jerking wildly around the space, and I pull up the first contact I can think of and press the call button.

“Hey, shortcake. Did you miss me already?” Sebastian’s teasing voice through the phone’s speaker makes me feel so relieved that I practically burst into tears.

“Sebastian! Please, you have to help me! I’m locked in a crawlspace in the Courtyard Shops, where I was volunteering for the Santa’s Workshop.” I can’t hide the urgent, spiraling panic in my voice. “Please come get me and let me out. It’s so fucking small. I can’t breathe.”

“Shit.” Instantly, the tone in his voice changes from playful banter to concern. “I’m on my way, Hailey, just breathe. Stay on the phone with me and breathe, okay? You’re going to be fine, and I’ll be right?—”

He cuts off mid-sentence, and the light winks out too. I let out a gasping, startled breath as I look down and realize that my phone battery has died. Dammit, I forgot to plug it in after my call with Lorelai last night.

“No,” I whisper, clutching the dead phone like I can somehow bring it back to life. “No, no, no. Come on.”

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