Page 17 of Never Kiss a Krampus
“Mostly,” Mason said.
“Define good,” added Madison.
Bastian’s mouth twitched. It might have been the beginning of a smile. “Honesty. That is a start. Very well. Your picture.”
The twins crowded around him, grinning like they’d won the lottery. Sarah took approximately thirty photos while I stoodbehind the counter, completely baffled by this turn of events. The ancient Krampus was posing for selfies with elementary school children.
This is my life now,I thought.This is actually happening.
“You’re a genius,” Sarah whispered as the boys finally rushed off to choose an ornament each. “A new marketing campaign is just what this town needs. I heard Grinchly’s been oiling his way around Tom’s store.”
Tom ran the florist shop at the end of the block, a charming little place that prided itself on its seasonal displays, and he’d been struggling even more than I had.
“I hope he’s not thinking of selling,” I said, my good mood deflating slightly. “I’m determined to hold out.”
“If anyone can turn things around, you can, dear. And your… consultant… is definitely turning heads.”
She paid for the kids’ ornaments, herding them out the door with promises of hot chocolate. The shop fell quiet again.
“They were not afraid,” Bastian observed, back in his spot by the window.
“No,” I agreed. “They thought you were awesome.”
“They believe me to be fiction. A costume. They do not see the truth.”
“They see what they want to see,” I said. “Sometimes that’s the same thing.”
“Is it?” He turned those burning eyes on me. “And what do you see, Noelle Green? When you look at me, what do you truly see?”
I saw power and danger and ancient magic. I saw the embodiment of everything I’d been raised to fear about the dark, wild places of the world. But I also saw something else. I saw a being who had made me coffee and who had patiently posed for photographs with two over-excited children. I saw something complicated and lonely and, impossibly, maybe even a little bit kind.
“I see you,” I said, which was both an evasion and the most honest answer I could give.
The bells jingled again, and this time, it was Tom, the florist. His face was pale, the smile he tried to summon weak and watery. He clutched a bouquet of holly, its red berries a splash of defiant color against his muted coat.
“Noelle,” he said, and he sounded so tired it made my own bones ache. “Lucy asked me to bring this by.”
“Tom. What’s wrong?” I rushed around the counter, my own worries forgotten in the face of his obvious distress.
“It’s…” He looked around the shop, and his eyes landed on Bastian. He blinked, a flicker of the same stunned disbelief I’d seen on everyone else, but he was too preoccupied to dwell on it. “He’s been at it again. Grinchly.”
I closed my eyes. “What did he do?”
“Slid a letter under my door last night. An offer—a very low offer. Said he’s buying the whole block, and my shop is in the way.” He set the holly on my counter. “I can’t… Noelle, I can’t lose my shop. It’s all Lucy and I have.”
Lucy was his wife. She’d been sick for years, a slow, quiet decline that had drained their savings but never their spirits. The shopwas their life’s work, a little sanctuary of beauty they’d built together.
“I’m so sorry, Tom.” I reached out and squeezed his arm. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what there is to do.” He finally let himself really look at Bastian, who was watching our exchange with an unnerving stillness. “Who’s…?”
“My consultant,” I said automatically. “From out of town. Helping me with a new… strategy.”
“A strategy,” Tom repeated, and then he laughed, a short, bitter sound. “I could use one of those. I tried everything. Discounts. Sales. A ‘bring a friend, get a discount’ promotion that brought exactly zero friends. Nothing works.”
My throat tightened with a familiar panic. “I know.”
“It’s like the whole town has lost its spark,” Tom said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Everyone’s scared. Everyone’s just trying to hang on until January, and hoping there’s something left to hang on to.”
