Page 52 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

I give her my brightest smile. “How about this? I’ll give you ten percent off on Package A. That way you get the two poses you want, all the prints included in Package A, and it only costs a few dollars more than Package B, which is far less than ordering anything a la carte later.”

Her eyes narrow, and she brushes hair out of her face dramatically. “Ten percent?”

I nod, offering a polite smile. Or at least as polite as I can. I don’t really want to give this woman anything. But at the same time, giving a little will get her out of here faster. The day’s almost over, and the last thing I need is this woman holding things up and making me late getting out of here.

“Is everything okay over here?” Mom asks, stepping next to me.

The woman looks at Mom dressed as Mrs. Claus with her white wig and tiny spectacles perched on the end of her nose. I’mnot sure what expression she finds there, but it makes her nod firmly. “Yes. Everything’s fine. I’ll take Package A.” She selects the shots she wants printed, and when I ring her up with the discount, she gives me a grateful smile. “Thank you so much for your help,” she gushes. “I really appreciate it. And the pictures are wonderful. You do such a great job. I think they’re even better than last year!”

She’s practically rambling. Once she steps back, putting her wallet back in her purse and reaching for her son, I glance over at Mom, who’s ushering the next family up to Dad. Does she know that woman? Does she have some kind of dirt on her? What kind of sorcery does she have that she can turn that woman from a ranting shrew to gushing and apologizing and thanking me like I’ve done her the greatest service in history? Is that ability genetic? If so, when does it start working for me?

Fortunately, the last handful of customers are pleasant and courteous, and even though we’re a little behind from Mrs. Dreadful, we end up being able to close up only a few minutes later than planned, which is pretty amazing considering how close we are to Christmas now.

“Good work today, Trevor. And if anyone starts talking to you like that lady again, don’t hesitate to get me, okay? Just offer to get your manager.”

He gives me a relieved smile. “Thanks. I will.”

“Hopefully, it won’t happen too many more times, but …” I shrug. Because there’s no way of knowing and no way of preventing it. All we can do is our best. “I know you mentioned plans tonight, so if you finish shutting down the computer and wipe down the desk, I’ll take care of the rest.”

His eyes slide to the side, and I turn my head to see Austin standing there. “Pretty sure you have plans too,” he quips, getting out the container of wipes we keep under the computer counter and wiping everything thoroughly while I finish putting away the camera.

Grinning at Austin, I step around the ropes to say hi to him. “How was your day?” I ask after giving him a kiss.

He’s grinning too, his hands resting on my hips, thumbs stroking my sides. “Better now.”

“Aww. Did you have cranky customers too?”

His eyebrows jump. “Not really. I’m just happy to see you. Why? Did you have cranky customers?”

I flip a hand, waving away the memory. “There was one particular woman who was very unhappy, but I handled her.”

“Mrs. Claus gave her the death stare!” Trevor puts in, and I glance over to see him straightening the stuffed animals.

“I thought I told you to leave once you were done with the computer station?”

He shrugs and continues what he’s doing.

Austin gives me a quizzical look. “She was bad enough your mom got involved?”

“Mom came over. The lady was being loud and holding everything up for longer than we build in. She didn’t really do anything, just stood next to me while I finished.”

“That lady was shaking in her boots!”

Ducking his head, Austin laughs at Trevor’s interjection. “Shaking in her boots?”

I shrug. “Mom standing there did make the lady a lot nicer and more grateful for how we were helping her.”

“Well, that’s good. Too bad you needed interference from the big guns, though. That’s never fun.” His face screws up in thought. “If Mrs. Claus’s death stare doesn’t do the trick, what happens next? Does Santa come over and tell her she’s on the Naughty List?”

I burst out laughing, and I hear Trevor chuckling behind me. Glancing over, he’s straightening up Santa’s area, though Dad usually makes sure everything is in order before he leaves. Still, I usually double-check to make sure it’s ready for the next day.

“I don’t know,” I tell Austin, pitching my voice loud enough for Trevor to hear too since he’s clearly listening in. “We’ve never had a customer obnoxious enough for Santa to get called in.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Austin says, kissing me again.

“Fingers crossed!” Trevor shouts, making us both laugh and ruining our kiss. “I’m out, Nora. Later!”

“Bye, Trevor!” I call after him.

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