Twelve Days of Krista

3. Here Comes Santa Clau

Three

Here Comes Santa Clau

11:45 a.m.

25 December

We do not have time for this, Hugh thinks to himself as Krista leads them into a posh Chinese restaurant outside the entrance to Four Embarcadero Center.

And as a hostess leads them to a table with a view of the bay, he checks his watch. Again. Because this restaurant looks like the sort of place that will bring out an endless series of small plates at a snail’s pace while important deadlines—like, say, a 2:00 p.m. flight to London—loom ever closer and are inevitably missed.

As he and Marian take their seats, a dark-haired server runs over to greet Krista with an enthusiastic hug.

“Krista! You’re back! How have you been?”

“Great! Tell your boyfriend those hand exercises he gave me worked great. I’ve been painting toys all year with zero wrist problems.”

“Actually, he’s my fiancé now!” the server squeals. She holds out her left hand to reveal a simple solitaire engagement ring. “I was going to ask if we could be in your Five Golden Rings ceremony this year…if there’s still space. We don’t want to do anything fancy and it would be way better than the courthouse.”

“Of course! I’m so happy for you! You’re my fourth couple so I just need one more to make it complete.”

“Oh! That reminds me—you know the couple you brought here last year? They came back again and he proposed to her at that table over there! Maybe you could ask them…?”

This conversation would be unbearable for Hugh had a server not suddenly appeared bearing a large tray laden with various Chinese dishes.

“I figured you’d want your usual when I saw you coming in. I went ahead and put in the order,” the server explains.

“How wonderful since we’re in a real hurry now!” Krista replies. “And I’m so pleased Marian will have a full stomach when she meets her true love.”

Marian, who’d been so enthusiastic to meet this woman just an hour ago, looks squeamish at the prospect of following her to a second destination. And Hugh wonders if he might be able to convince her to hail a taxi to fetch his hired car from in front of that odd factory. In less than 20 minutes they could be back in the Jag and driving away from this crazy woman.

But before he can say anything, the server squeals at Marian, “Oh, you’re about to meet your true love, too?!” Apparently not caring at all about the other diners in her section, she drops into the empty seat beside Hugh.

Twenty minutes later, Hugh knows more about Azza (the server) than he does about his own assistant. She grew up one of five siblings in a Pakistani family, secretly nursing dreams of rock stardom while studying to become a physical therapist. But then she was forced to move out of her family home before finishing her studies because her parents insisted on arranging a marriage for her. She’d become used to scraping by with her job at the Chinese restaurant and her little indie band. “So imagine my surprise when Krista set me up with her Indian physical therapist! I’ve never been happier, even if my parents still haven’t come around since he’s not Muslim.”

“Don’t worry, they will once you start having children,” Marian assures her.

“Did the spirits tell you that?” Krista asks, her eyes wide with expectant awe.

“No,” Marian answers with a chuckle. “Life did.”

Krista and Marian spend more time talking with Azza than they do eating the delicious meal of roast Peking duck, noodles, and some sort of scallop and crab meat chowder.

In the end, Krista manages to get them in and out of the restaurant in under half an hour. And no exchange of money is necessary since Azza insists she can’t charge the woman who introduced her to the love of her life.

But Hugh’s relief quickly fades when instead of leading them back toward the streetcar depot, Krista steers Marian toward the Embarcadero Center’s large outdoor plaza.

“Krista, where are you taking us?” Hugh demands between clenched teeth as they amble past an ice rink.

The young woman doesn’t answer and keeps Marian’s arms clasped tightly within hers until they reach a Christmas tree standing just a few feet from the rink. It’s a massive construct of lights and fake greenery that Hugh is certain requires cranes and special permits to install. A long queue of people is wrapped around it and ends at a red velvet throne that likely served as home base for photos with Father Christmas before today.

“Krista…” he repeats while barely keeping his voice level. “What is this?”

“It’s a thank you line for Santa! It’s here every Christmas so children can thank him in person for their presents,” she replies. “Isn’t that great?”

“No, it isn’t great. It’s a colossal waste of time,” he answers. He’d also like to add, and not even close to what I paid you to help me with, but he can’t because Marian is standing right there.

Krista narrows her eyes at him. “So, you think kids should get gifts without saying thank you?”

“Of course not! Look here, you and I both know there’s no such thing as Santa!”

From behind them, a child’s voice gasps out, “There’s no such thing as Santa?!?!” followed by the sound of pitiful wailing.

“For God’s sake,” Hugh mutters.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Krista says bending down to speak to the tearful child. He’s a boy of about seven or eight and as far as Hugh is concerned, he’s more than old enough to be past the fantasy of Father Christmas.

“Know how I know Santa is real?” Krista asks the boy.

“How?” the child asks, wiping a sleeve across his snotty nose.

“I’m one of his elves!” she announces. Then after handing her backpack to Marian, she yanks open her coveralls like some kind of extra perky superhero and steps out of them to reveal a red velvet dress underneath.

Krista’s reveal is a surprise to Hugh for more reasons than one. To be specific, he’s surprised for two big reasons nestled above a lovely set of hips.

Krista might have the face of an elf, but below the neck, she’s built like a naughty Christmas dream. And Hugh is discomfited to find his body suffused with an unexpected heat at the sight of her in the curve-hugging dress.

It seems like the boy is reading Hugh’s mind when he frowns skeptically up at her and says, “You sure don’t look like an elf.”

Krista laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, we’re not all short. That’s just a myth. Santa adopts us when we’re children. But like you, we eventually grow up.”

“Santa adopted you?”

“Yes, after my parents died. That’s his thing. If a child’s parents die during the twelve days of Christmas, he adopts him or her and makes them one of his elves.”

“Let me get this straight,” the little boy says. “If my dad dies…”

“If both your parents die…remember, you have to be an orphan.”

“Okay, if both my parents die, Santa will turn me into an elf?” The boy doesn’t sound all that disappointed at the huge sacrifice he’ll need to make to become an elf, and the boy’s mother frowns at Krista from her position next to her son.

“Yep!” Krista answers cheerily, not noticing the boy’s mother glaring at her. “Far as I can tell, that’s the one and only upside to losing both your parents.”

“Excuse me, could you please stop speaking with my son?” the mother asks while placing a protective hand on the boy’s shoulders.

Before Krista can respond, Hugh takes her by the arm. “Excuse us for a moment, Marian,” he says to the older woman before dragging Krista away.

“What on earth are you doing?!” he asks Krista when they’re out of earshot.

Krista tilts her head to the side with an expression of real confusion on her face. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is telling a child orphans can become elves! He could go home and murder his parents in their bed!”

“Nah, I don’t think so. First off, this is the Bay Area and hardly anyone has guns. Secondly, most kids are sweeter than you think. That’s why it’s so hard to get on Santa’s bad list. Plus, Santa doesn’t adopt anyone on the bad list. Oh wait, I totally should have told him that! Hold on a minute…”

Hugh grabs her by the arm again before she can step away. “Alright, you will stop trying to distract me with your ridiculous prattle. I want my money back, now.”

“Oh, okay. It’s in my backpack. But, well,” she gestures towards the line, “Marian has it.”

“Fine. You stay here while I get my money. Then Marian and I are leaving at once.”

Krista reacts as if Hugh has just announced he’s going to shove the old woman into the harbor. “No! You can’t do that!”

“Watch me,” he says striding purposefully away.

This time, Krista is the one catching his arm. “But Marian’s true love is almost here.”

“You listen to me,” Hugh says in a voice that’s barely above a growl. “I do not know what sort of con job you’re running. Perhaps you thought you could take advantage of us because of Marian’s age and my foreign status. But let me assure you: I am nobody’s fool.”

“But…you said you wanted to make Marian happy! And that’s what I’m going to do if you’ll just…”

“No. No more of this ridiculous talk, Krista. If that’s even your real name.”

“Well, no…it isn’t my real name. I mean…it’s my elf name, not my birth name,” she admits. “But I like it way better than the name my parents gave me.”

Based on all the true-crime dramas he’s watched on the BBC, people go insane and strangle each other all the time. Hugh has never understood how anyone could kill another person. Not until now, that is.

“Stay away from me and stay away from Marian,” he warns her, his voice heavy with a level of anger he rarely allows himself to feel, much less express. “This. Ends. Now.”

Krista’s expression crumbles, a look of desperation flashing across her face as she opens her mouth to protest again. But then, she promptly closes it, a wide smile spreading across her lips as her face lights up brighter than the Christmas tree towering behind the empty red velvet chair.

“Actually…” she begins while staring fixedly over his shoulder. “This story is just beginning.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” a voice calls out. It’s deep and resonant and seems to fill the entire plaza.

Hugh spins around to see a man in a Father Christmas costume approaching from the other side of the plaza in a wheeled sleigh pulled by eight people wearing reindeer costumes and roller skates.

“Those are my cousins,” Krista whispers. “But don’t tell anyone. Grandpa doesn’t want the kids to know he no longer uses actual reindeer.”