Page 16 of Christmas By Lamplight
Maybe it was about a woman, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Sloane. “It’s about needing to be somewhere real for five minutes.”
Sloane sighed. “Don’t do anything stupid. No more public appearances. No more Santa suits. And definitely no more viral moments.”
After she hung up, he pulled up the news coverage on his laptop. There he was in the Santa suit, beard askew, surrounded by crying children and grateful parents. The comments were brutal in some places, supportive in others. The internet was doing what it did best—tearing people apart and building them up simultaneously.
But then he found a different video, shot on someone’s phone. It showed the moment after the beard came off. Carrie stepping toward him, not away. Her hand touched his arm so briefly the camera almost missed it. In the face of the universal condemnation he expected, she’d been there with a gesture of support when he needed it most. It was what she did best. She simply cared in her own quiet way unconditionally, and he loved that about her.
He closed the laptop and looked around the apartment. It was nothing like his place in LA with its water-stained ceiling in one corner, radiator that clanged like the ghost of Marley in chains, and the windows that rattled when the wind blew down Main Street. But from here, he felt closer to life. Real life was happening all around him. Next door, the couple was having their usual post-dinner debate. Somewhere else, a dog barked. Outside, the faint sound of Christmas music from a passing car filtered in through his windows.
In LA, his apartment was soundproofed. It was perfect for recording and for isolation. He’d moved there after his career took off, when background noise became the enemy of clean audio. But somewhere along the way, the silence became more than a professional necessity. It was his personal default. He wished that would change.
For now, he felt alive and connected. Tomorrow, he would fix more shelves and maybe help with the inventory. Most of all, he would pretend his entire future didn’t hang on a meeting. But he couldn’t hide from the fact that success would mean leaving a place where someone called him Tom around others.
Did Carrie know that she’d given him more than a nickname and privacy? She’d given him permission to feel normal and useful again. Life here wasn’t just about him. He’d forgotten what it felt like to matter to others in a way that had nothing to do with fame or scandal or the cruel judgment of strangers online.
But soon he would leave it behind. The meeting was everything he’d worked toward. That kind of opportunity never came twice.
But for now, for these few days remaining, he could still be the guy from upstairs with a toolbox and time to help.
The next morning, the story was everywhere. “Bad Santa Redeems Himself” had gone viral in the best way. Tanner’s donation, his reading, and the fundraising were all anyone could talk about. The bookshop’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing. People called ordering books. Others came shopping in person. Several asked when the next event would be.
Carrie should have been thrilled, but instead, she felt hollow. The event had been a massive success for the hospital and for Tanner’s reputation. But her lease payment was due in four days, and despite the surge in interest and the resulting book sales, it wasn’t enough.
The reporter from Channel 7 stopped by that afternoon. She’d been covering the event and had struck up a friendship with Carrie.
“How are you doing?” the reporter asked, setting down her coffee. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Carrie said automatically, then stopped. “Actually, no. I’m not fine. The event was wonderful, and I’m so glad we helped those children, but . . .” She gestured at the beautiful, quiet shop. “This place is still going under. My lease payment is due on the 27th, and even with the publicity, I don’t have it.”
“But surely after everything you did for the hospital?—”
“Tanner offered to help, but I couldn’t take his money.”
The reporter studied her with shrewd eyes. “You know, we’re running a follow-up segment tonight. About the event’s impact on the community. Mind if I mention the bookshop’s situation? Sometimes people just need to know there’s a need.”
“I don’t want charity?—”
“It’s not charity. It’s community. You gave to them. Maybe they would like to give back.”
That night, the segment aired. The reporter talked about the event’s success, showed clips of Tanner reading to the children, and interviewed parents whose children had received Secret Santa gifts. She ended with, “Lamplight Books, the shop that organized this beautiful event, has been struggling to stay afloat. Owner Carrie Watson has poured her heart into creating a warm, welcoming space for our community, and now that community has a chance to give back. The shop’s lease payment is due December 27th. Tomorrow is their last day open before Christmas Eve. If you’ve been meaning to buy that last-minute Christmas gift, maybe consider shopping local. Books make great gifts.”
December 23rd dawned cold and clear.
Carrie arrived at seven to open at eight and found a line already forming outside. Mrs. Snyder stood at the front, bundled in her winter coat.
“We saw the news,” Mrs. Snyder said simply. “We’re here to shop.”
The day became a blur. A steady stream of people poured in throughout the day: neighbors she’d never met, parents from the hospital event, teachers from the elementary school, and the teenagers who usually hung out at the coffee shop. Oliver and his grandmother were back for more books.
By ten o’clock, Shannon had abandoned any pretense of her day off and was working a register. By noon, they’d run out of shopping bags and started using paper lunch sacks from the deli next door.
“I need help,” Carrie called to Shannon. “Is your boyfriend free? Can he run a register?”
But before Shannon could answer, Tanner walked in. He’d slept in, but while sipping his coffee, he happened to glance out the window and saw the line. He came downstairs to make sure she was okay.
“Put me to work,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.
So there they were, the three of them, racing between shelves and registers. Tanner hauled boxes from the back room to restock what they could. Shannon rang up sales and wrapped gifts. Carrie recommended books and found alternatives when her first suggestions were sold out. They all thanked each person who walked through the door.
