Page 29 of Santa’s Lawyer

They could try to wipe her brain clean, but for the rest of her un-Christmassy, non-festive life, she would feel a Louis-shaped hole in her heart that she’d never be able to fill, or even name. She couldn’t imagine a sadder future.

“Miraculous,” Louis had called her. She didn't feel very miraculous right now. She curled up on the couch. She truly needed a Christmas miracle to get out of this one. But Santa had told her there were no more Christmas miracles.

The idea made her stomach twist. How was she supposed to believe Santa when Santa was telling her not to believe in Christmas? Why did they even bring her here?

Déjà vu hit Avery like the Polar Express. This was how she felt when she was just starting out as a lawyer. She’d spent so much time studying for the bar exam, but it did nothing to prepare her for the actual practice of law. How pointless. She’d hoped things would have been different here. Why did they spend all that time testing her, making sure she understood the meaning of Christmas if—

She jumped to her feet.

A small bell rang in the library, one only Avery could hear.

CHAPTER NINE

THE NORTH POLE, CHRISTMAS COURT

When Avery arrived in the courtroom, it was packed full of an assortment of North Pole creatures: human, android, and animal.

The imposing hall, much like the sterile conference room in which she’d interviewed earlier that day, was devoid of whimsy. Indeed, it was like any other courtroom back in the Big City: benches, a hinged bar sectioning off the courtroom gallery from the well, and a large wooden bench at the front for the judges. Only each part of this courtroom was far grander to accommodate the massive mythical figures who composed the Court. The formidable scale of it might have shaken even the boldest advocate, but to Avery, this familiar setting was a life raft in a turbulent sea of festive discombobulation.

Behind the bench sat the Christmas Court. Even from the back of the courtroom, she recognized the judges immediately. The nameplates on the expansive podium confirmed who–or what–sat on the panel: the Ghost of Christmas Present, the Abominable Snowman, Krampus, and Belsnickel, each of whom loomed at least ten feet tall; and the Yule Cat, who was the size of a small horse. Fortunately, for her arguments, Avery knew that three of these creatures were notoriously concerned with badly behaved and shabbily dressed children. She was recalibrating her opening statement accordingly when she spotted her client deep in conversation with Louis near the front of the gallery.

“I thought this was a simple application,” Avery insisted quietly, approaching them from the center aisle. “Why are there so many people, er, spectators?”

The Abominable Snowman banged an enormous gavel on the podium. Louis bit his lip and ducked away without a word, taking a seat in the front row of the gallery.

The bailiff, a dark-skinned man with a brown beard, wearing a white robe, head bathed in a soft, golden glow, stepped forth. “Hear ye, hear ye!” he cried. “I call to order the matter of the application to approve the sale of Christmas.”

The creatures in the gallery mumbled and chattered, finding their seats, and the gavel sounded again.

“Come in, Ms. Hoarfrost,” the Ghost of Christmas Present gregariously commanded, “and know this Court better!”

Avery swung open the wooden bar separating the gallery from the well of the court and walked through. Her client followed her in and sat at the table to her right.

“Yes, Your Honors. May it please the Christmas Court,” she said.

“This is a most unusual application, Ms. Hoarfrost,” the Abominable Snowman growled, before she could even begin.

“I think quite well of it,” Belsnickel remarked, leaning back in his seat and running his fingers along a wooden switch.

“Jawohl,” Krampus agreed in his native German. “A return to a more just era.”

A rumble of murmurs arose from the spectators.

The gigantic black cat hissed, eyes glowing, sending a fearsome hush through the courtroom gallery.

“The Yule Cat raises an appropriate point of order,” the Ghost of Christmas Present proclaimed, with a level of jocularity bordering on unseemly for such a formal proceeding, earning eyerolls and throat-clearing from his fellow judges. The Yule Cat jumped from its chair and landed with a colossal thud onto the enormous podium beside the Ghost of Christmas Present, spinning around three times before settling, encircling itself with a black tail the size of an air duct. The other judges sat up straight.

“We must hear the application before making any decisions,” the Dickensian specter proclaimed. “Your statement, Ms. Hoarfrost, please.”

“Thank you, Your Honors,” Avery began, clasping her hands together behind her back and undertaking a slow, determined stroll around the well of the court that would have made Atticus Finch proud.

She approached the table where her client sat. For once, his eyes were on her instead of his tech. He looked almost nervous. She rapped her knuckles on the tabletop and gave him an encouraging nod.

Finally, she was on firm footing. For a moment, she forgot she was even in the North Pole. The courtroom was her domain. Avery quietly loosed a breath as she gratefully surrendered to her battle-tested legal instincts.

“Showtime,” she whispered.

“When I first heard about this application,” she said, addressing the entire courtroom, “I myself thought it was most unusual. And I’ve found throughout my legal career that when faced with an unusual situation, the best thing to do is return to first principles. Having done so, I’m now prepared to demonstrate to this Court why the very foundations of Christmas actually require this sale.”