Page 67 of False Evidence

She pulled on her elf cap and hurried forward, her eyes on Santa and the child on his lap. She noted he didn’t hold on to the girl—she was free to escape—but the mother was shouting encouragement that kept the child rooted in place.

“Smile, then you’ll get your presents, and we can all have ice cream!”

Jay’s tall stepbrother stood to the side, a bag of gifts in hand. “Are those for her?” she asked.

He nodded, then startled as he recognized her.

She pressed a finger to her lips, then took the bag and entered the stage. She grinned as Jay spotted her, jolting so hard, the girl wobbled and nearly fell from his lap.

Alexandra dropped to one knee and supported the girl, then pulled a wrapped gift from the bag and presented it to her. “Hey, princess, Santa wanted me to give this to you now because he knows you’ve been extra good this year.”

The girl’s face lit up as she grasped the sparkly pink package. “Fo me?”

“Yes, honey. Just for you. Now let’s smile for your mommy so Santa can give the other kids their presents.”

Alexandra tried to scoot out of the shot, but the girl grabbed her hand. There was nothing to be done but turn toward the camera and smile.

The girl’s face was tear-streaked, but her gap-toothed smile was big. Hopefully, her mom would be satisfied.

Alexandra stood and scooped the girl off Jay’s lap, then walked her and the bag of presents to Mom before going to collect the next child destined for Jay’s lap.

She felt his eyes on her with each step, and when she faced him, he wore a happy and somewhat smug smile, visible even through the beard. He let out a very cheery “Ho, ho, ho!” and beckoned the child by name. He must have a cheat sheet on each child.

Impressive.

The next gifting ceremony went smoothly, as did the third. When she took the bag of toys from Tall Man for the fourth child, he whispered, “He’s happy you’re here, and it shows with the kids. Thank you.”

“I’m a sucker for kids.”

Tall Man smirked. “Sadly, our current Santa is not.”

She laughed and took the bag. “I noticed.”

The next child viewed Santa with trepidation. He couldn’t be older than four. He stopped short of Jay, just out of his reach, looked to Alexandra, and asked in a loud whisper, “Does being bad today count?”

She dropped down to a knee and whispered equally loud, “No. The naughty list isn’t updated until eleven p.m. daily. And even then, so long as you’re sorry and try to do better, Santa is very forgiving.”

The boy’s face brightened. “I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident.”

He turned to Jay, who again greeted the child by name. They went through the routine, and Alexandra presented him with the bag of toys, which, according to the tag she removed before handing it off, contained a collection of wooden Thomas the Tank Engine toys, including several yards of track.

As far as she could tell, each child here was receiving specific items from a wish list. The toys weren’t cheap either. For children living in transitional housing, this had to be a Christmas miracle. She found herself tearing up along with some of the parents as the evening wore on.

There were at least fifty kids present. It must’ve been an enormous task to get the wish lists and collect and wrap the presents. Someday, when she wasn’t so broke herself, she would make a donation to whichever charity organized this event.

It took more than an hour to work through the line, which was limited to five kids at a time to prevent toddlers from losing their minds at the long wait.

They’d had two more criers, but no more screamers by the time Alexandra escorted the last child to their dad. The curtain that enclosed Santaland dropped as Jay let out one last hearty “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas and to all a good night!”

Alexandra slipped through the curtain and faced Jay. They were alone. Sort of. “Ready for a break, Santa?”

“Not quite. I’ve got one more person to interrogate.” His gloved hand circled her wrist, and he pulled her to his lap. “Tell me what you want for Christmas, Lex.”

She laughed softly, well aware the curtain wasn’t much of a sound barrier. “But Santa,” she whispered, “I’ve beenverynaughty this year.”

The fake beard tickled her ear as he whispered, “As long as you’re sorry and try to do better, I hear I’m lenient.”

“But I’m not even a little bit sorry and intend to be naughty again.” She tugged at the beard and would have removed it, but he must’ve used some kind of adhesive to secure it, because it didn’t budge. She leaned back. “You’re going to have to remove the beard, because it’s not doing it for me.”

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