Page 96 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

Thankfully for me, the kids who’ve already visited with me are long gone, so no one will be able to test me on that.

The little girl lifts her hand again, waving it around more confidently.

“Yes?” I say.

“Can you put the pillow and beard back on? You look kind of scary without it.”

The beard is still gross, but I’m not going to get hired for this poorly paid seasonal job if I don’t do it, so I don’t hesitate. “Sure, kid. Like I said, I like dressing up like my hero too.”

And, I’ll be goddammed, Ada smiles before she walks away. I work for another hour, after which Joe finally comes back with a couple of hot chocolates and an embarrassed expression. Whichbecomes downright terrified when Ada comes over and tells him there’s no outside food and beverages in the shop.

I’ve never seen a man run to the trash can more quickly.

Despite his humiliation, Joe stays at the store with Anabelle. They’re still there after another half hour. I don’t like that Anabelle’s been standing so long, so I tell the kids that even Santa’s special helpers have to take a leak.

“How long will that take?” one kids asks.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds more like a number two.”

“That’s between me and the toilet,” I tell him, and then I walk up to Anabelle and Joe.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Joe says. He glances at the line of children, many of whom are openly staring at us. “There’s a lot of kids here. They’re all excitable. It felt like a situation that could end poorly.”

“One of them patted candy-cane hands all over my face. Does that count?”

His look of horror is classic, but I look past him at Anabelle.

“You handled that so well,” she says. “I would have frozen, but you did exactly the right thing. I’m so proud of you.”

I beam at her, feeling pretty proud of myself right then too. But she’s still standing—has been for hours—and I don’t like it.

“I need to get a chair for you.”

“Oh, I’m okay. I’m good at standing.” She sighs and shakes her head at herself. “Sometimes I don’t know how stupid something sounds until it comes out of my mouth.”

“Youaregood at standing,” I say, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, not because it needs to be tucked, but because I want to touch her, and we’re in a room full of children staring at us. “But if you want to stay, I’d feel better if you were sitting.”

I talk to Ada, and she tells me that she has no issue with temporarily donating a couple of inflatable chairs to them solong as they tell everyone who asks how comfortable they are. So Anabelle spends the rest of my shift sitting in a unicorn chair, while Joe is in what could either be a bear or a dog, who knows.

“Why do they get chairs?” one kid asks her dad.

“Because that’s Santa’s girlfriend,” replies a little girl who obviously missed everything that happened earlier. It’s a good thing these kids aren’t on social media yet.

Seeking out Anabelle’s gaze, I say, “That’s right.”

Maybe I’m a dick for wanting to declare it for everyone to hear, but it feels good. Especially when Anabelle blushes and smiles.

The rest of the evening goes pretty smoothly, and by the time Ada comes around and says that Santa needs to leave, the line has already thinned out. Another shout from Ada is enough to clear out the store entirely.

She asks me to stick around for a minute, and Anabelle squeezes my hand and leaves with Joe, who has acquired a candy cane from somewhere.

My nerves are buzzing a bit as I watch them walk out. The evening ended well, but it sure didn’t start out that way, and Ada’s a no-bullshit, no-drama kind of person. She might not appreciate how I handled the situation.

After the door closes behind Anabelle and Joe, she turns to me. “We had some complaints about you swearing.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

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