Page 48 of Here Comes Santa Paws

“I forgot. Nutcrackers are year-round décor.”

She sat on the edge of my desk and grinned conspiratorially. “Is it that adorable elf from the pet photos with Santa? Your neighbor?”

My cheeks burned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Anisha straightened triumphantly. “I knew it! I saw the way you looked at him.”

The back of my neck burned under her scrutiny. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“He seems really sweet.” Her voice went almost singsong.

“Good for him. Thanks for the coffee.” I focused on my monitor, but Anisha had grown wise to my shit a long time ago and wasn’t put off so easily.

“You did an amazing job with the photos. I’m going to get ours framed and give them as gifts to the grandparents.”

I looked at her with surprise. “Really?”

“Really.” Her smile was gentle. “You’re a great photographer. Have you given more thought to entering the contest?”

I shrugged one shoulder.

“Roman speak for maybe.”

I made an unimpressed sound as I bit back a laugh. She knew me too well. That thought sobered me. I hadn’t connected with coworkers at my past jobs. I’d always been congenial enough to not be a complete asshole, but I’d kept to myself. Anisha had refused to remain at a distance.

Just like Elias. Once he glimpsed my soft underbelly, he pounced. One side of my mouth hitched slightly at the memory of last night. I kept expecting things to get weird, but they hadn’t. He’d texted me a ridiculous GIF of a dog in a Santa hat today, encouraging me to buy one for Carol. Could it be that easy? Enjoying his company in and out of bed without it becoming a big thing?

My thoughts were getting away from me. With all the jobs I’d recently applied to, something would come through, and I likely wouldn’t be in town for long.

The coffee must’ve hit me funny today because my stomach rolled.

Anisha had continued laying out the reasons I should enter the photo contest while my mind had wandered off to la-la land. Her put-upon sigh drew my attention back.

“Just think about it, okay? You should share your talent so others can appreciate it too.”

Finally acknowledging my silence, she went back to her desk. When I was alone, I grabbed my phone to search for details about the photography contest. There had to be some sort of immediate red flag that would make it easy for me to rule out participating.

I found the information easily on the Christmas Falls Festival website. There were categories for children and adults. Basically, any photo was eligible if it connected to the holidays in Christmas Falls. I momentarily considered the possibility of taking a picture of my hand positioned to flip the bird in front of a festival event. But I wasn’t sure anyone but me would find that funny. Elias would probably laugh though.

I hadn’t enjoyed Christmas in the same way since we’d moved away from Dahlia Springs over twenty years ago. I’d been so excited to go to the tree lighting with Warren and his siblings, but we moved before the festival started.

I realized I wasn’t feeling as antagonistic toward the Christmas Falls Festival as I had the past two years. My avoidance of it partially stemmed from moving here in early fall. It had been so stunning at first. Leaves changing colors, crisp fall air, fresh apple-cider donuts at Jolly Java. The perfect setting for long photography hikes on the weekends. Then mid-November hit, and it was like an army of elf overlords overtook the town. Gingerbread donuts replaced the apple-cider ones and everything pumpkin spice turned to peppermint. I didn’t like peppermint. Hordes of tourists infiltrated the quaint town—all to celebrate a holiday I’d always felt “meh” about at best.

Christmas had never been the touching holiday I’d seen on TV with the large and loud family dinners, gifts spilling outfrom under a Christmas tree, and decorations on every surface. Ours had always centered on practical gifts that wouldn’t bloat our moving load and disposable decorations like popcorn and cranberry garland draped over the box TV.

Fortunately, I’d enjoyed my job enough to stick around. But that familiar gut feeling had returned. The one that always told me when it was time to move on.

While I had jobs on my mind, I navigated to my email to see if I’d heard back on any of my applications.

An email from the clinic in Tucson caught my eye. I scanned the subject line.Virtual interview request.

Oh shit. An interview for the director of physical therapy position.

I read the invitation to schedule a Zoom interview for the following week and replied to accept the offer and give them my availability. I waited for that gut feeling to flare, but it was quiet. Maybe it was waiting until I had the interview and knew it would be a good fit.

The day passed with appointments and more paperwork before I drove to Jim’s and parked. Soon, he would be coming to the office for our sessions. I enjoyed home visits because the patients were usually more comfortable and I liked learning about them through their homes. Most PT jobs I’d had didn’t involve home visits, but that had become my favorite part of this position.

As someone who’d never had a lot of material possessions, I was always fascinated by people who stayed put long enough to amass a lot of stuff. What they chose to surround themselves with often told me a lot about them.

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