Page 3 of The Santa of the Mountain

“Wouldn’t change a thing.” She pats the red, velvety bundle in my arms. “I’ll see you at the park, okay? And remember to smile. I don’t want another grumpy Santa Claus this year.”

“I’ll do my best.”

But I can’t make any promises.

Two more days until Christmas…

“The usual?” Quinn asks as I stroll to the counter of Windy Brews, a spring in my step. Not even Mariah Carey can dampen my mood today.

“The usual,” I rasp, leaning on the counter, the bells on my belt jangling.

“You’re rather chipper today,” she says, inputting my order.

“It’s a great day, Quinn. A wonderful day.”

Everything looks a little brighter. A whole lot merrier. I’m feeling the joy.

She pauses mid-order, raising a brow. “Dare I ask why?”

“It’s almost Christmas.” I tap my nose, and I swear there’s a twinkle in my eye.

Her eyes narrow before glancing at my sash. “Is there a flask hidden somewhere in that suit?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’ll have to remember that for next year.”

Quinn looks back at the register, finishing the order and grabbing my black coffee. She slides the cup to me, but when I reach for it, she pulls it back.

“You hate Christmas.”

“But I love watching it go.”

She groans, sliding my coffee back to me. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

I tip my cap, another twinkle in my eye as I collect my drink and head out the door. Today is my last day as Santa Claus.Today is the last day I’ll have to look at this beard. I’ve had a beard for damn near my entire life, but I’m cutting it off the moment I get back to my cabin.

Today is going to be a good day. Not even the over-the-top decorations of Whispering Winds annoy me. The sounds of Christmas carols from strategically hidden speakers along Main Street are damn near invisible to my ears as I sip my coffee, bracing myself against the stiff wind and light snow.

“Santa!” A kid screams, and I shoutHo Ho Ho!right back at him without skipping a beat. After nearly a month of playing the role of Ol’ Saint Nick, I’m getting the hang of it. Be nice. Don’t growl at kids. And especially, don’t glare when they tug at your sleeves for attention. I learned that one the hard way when I unintentionally made a toddler cry the first day on the job.

The Christmas lot is closed for the season, so today I’ll be wishing kids a Merry Christmas next to the old-growth spruce that has been around longer than this city’s founding. It’s a beauty. A shame that it gets defiled each year with oversized ornaments, lights, and tinsel.

It’s a ten-minute walk from Main Street to the park, so by the time I make it there, I’m done with my coffee and the roasted chestnuts I picked up from a pop-up stand.

The brisk wind smells like cinnamon. It’s usually cloying but I don’t mind. Most of the things about this town that I’ve found annoying this time of year roll off of me. The roaming caroling troupes. The cars, cats, and dogs dressed up as reindeer. Hideous sweaters and twinkling lights. 24/7 Mariah Carey. The general merriment of the season.

There’s not much that I’ve found joyful or cheerful until now. This will be the last time I make this journey. The last time I have kids sitting on my lap, coughing and sneezing and wiping snot all over me. After this, it’s all over. Next year, I’ll rig the candy cane draw so someone else can endure this hell.

I pass by the ice skating rink for the last time and head for Santa’s workshop. I pause at the entrance, taking in the beauty of the old-growth tree, ignoring the decorations as best I can.

Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll both be free of this soon enough.

“Can I get you anything?”Margot asks as she helps another kid on my lap.

“Eggnog? Whiskey? Both?Ho, ho, ho!” I bellow at the kid on my lap, snot dripping from both nostrils.

“What’s whiskey?” the kid asks, swiping the back of his hand against his nose before sneezing in my face.

The second one today. It will be a Christmas miracle if I make it through next week without coming down with some new contagion.

---