Page 12 of Santa’s Lawyer

“That's an excellent quality in a lawyer,” he said, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“So, am I nailing the interview?” she asked, sliding her arm next to his. Their hands briefly touched, sending another thrill of pleasure tingling up her arm.

“So far, so good,” Louis said with a wry smile. “Now, you just have to pass the North Pole bar exam.”

“WHAT?” Avery leaped from the couch.

“Oh, dear, I thought you knew!” he said, scrambling off the sofa.

“What if I don’t pass? Can I take it twice? How long before the exam?” She began pacing in front of the fireplace and briefly considered throwing herself in. The bar exam had been one of the worst experiences of her young adult life. She’d passed up job opportunities in other states that would have required another bar exam. She only got through it because her mom let her come home and did all her laundry for the last two weeks before the test.

This time, she had no one.

“I—” Louis raised his hands helplessly in front of himself. “This is not the part I expected you to react to, Ms. Hoarfrost.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said under her breath, shaking her head and continuing her anxious pacing.

Louis stepped into her path, halting her. “Would it comfort you to know that this is not like any bar exam you’ve taken before?” he asked.

She paused. “Maybe.”

“Would you like to sit back down and hear more about it?” Louis invited.

“I think I’d like to resume pacing,” she replied.

“That’s quite all right,” he said, before offering cautiously, “Christmas cookie?” Out of thin air, Louis produced a beautifully decorated sugar cookie on a small plate and presented it to her.

“Okay,” Avery agreed reluctantly. She resented the implication that she needed to be pacified, but it was working. And delicious.

“Actually,” she said, while chewing, “I think I could probably use a proper breakfast.”

“Certainly,” he said. “You may have anything you like. What do you consider a proper breakfast?”

She looked at him skeptically.

“Truly, anything you can imagine. Magic, remember?”

Avery thought she might as well take it for a spin. “Alright then,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “Fried chicken, waffles, and real maple syrup,” she challenged.

“That sounds like a rare treat,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

Louis offered his arm. Avery linked her arm through his and rested her hand on his forearm. The warmth of him immediately flooded her with serenity, chasing away any echoes of anxiety from her bar exam flashbacks. She let out a long, slow exhale.

He led her to the far end of the library and turned a corner that Avery was sure wasn’t there five minutes ago.

She stopped in her tracks.

Before her was a dining nook with a large wooden table and two chairs. The table was full of stunning platters of food: crispy fried chicken; golden waffles; fresh fruit; glass bottles of thick, amber syrup; powdered sugar; hot sauce. A toy train carting butter, and salt and pepper shakers chugged in a circle around a pile of plates and cutlery. In the center was a stunning decorative arrangement full of flowers, juniper boughs, and pinecones.

She looked at Louis and smiled widely. “Now this is a proper use of magic.”

Louis withdrew his arm and pulled out a chair for Avery to sit in. He pulled his chair close to hers.

“I can’t say I’ve had this interesting combination before,” he admitted, inspecting the table.

“Oh, please, allow me,” she said, putting a waffle on both of their plates, topping them with fried chicken, and pouring an atrocious amount of syrup on her own plate before passing it to Louis. “No stomachaches at the North Pole, right?”