Page 32 of Santa’s Lawyer

Louis turned to her, bashful. “I—hope that’s not strange. I needed something to remember you by, in case you chose to leave.”

Avery squeezed his hand. “I think it’s wonderful,” she said.

“And it’s an excellent start to your legacy,” Santa said.

“Quite,” Stephen agreed, nodding alongside him.

“My legacy?” Avery asked, putting the lid back on the candle.

“Ah, yes,” Louis said, stepping in. “There’s one more thing we haven’t been entirely straightforward about.”

Avery gave him a pointed look.

He shielded himself with his hands, ducking slightly. “I know, I know, but I promise this is the last one. It's, erm, regarding the nature of the job you’ve been interviewing for.”

Ander arrived with a tray of champagne flutes filled with swirling, sparkling liquid, Gregory waddling beside him. Tilly joined them, swiping a glass from the platter and handing it to Avery with a wink before taking one for herself.

“You are, of course, more than welcome to join the legal team and succeed Stephen as our North Pole General Counsel and Special Advisor to Santa, if that’s what you’d like,” Louis explained. “But the job you were interviewing for was—”

“Mine,” Santa said, putting a hand on Avery’s shoulder.

She gasped. A vibrating pulse of energy, unlike anything she’d felt before, rocked through her body. An explosion of glitter burst from her core into a shimmering cloud around her, sweeping down her body and transforming her green suit into a golden, glittering gown.

Avery looked down at her sparkling form, mystified. “What did you—”

“Oh, ho, ho,” Santa laughed, putting a hand to his heart. “That was you, Avery. Or should I say, that was Christmas Magic working through you. My word. Sometimes it has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?” Santa said, nodding at Louis.

Louis was leaning on Tilly for support, hand over his mouth, stunned into silence.

A giant green cluster of mistletoe hung in the air over Louis’ head. It was rapidly expanding. Tilly had to duck.

Santa cleared his throat, and Louis jumped, hitting his head on the mass of green shoots replicating above him, swatting them away.

“Part of my job is to ensure the continuity of Christmas,” Santa explained, turning back to Avery. “I’ve been scouting for a successor for the last three hundred years. I brought Louis on board about a century ago to help me with the search after I had begun to lose hope that anyone suitable would ever come along. It was only when he introduced me to your grandmother, Jane, that I saw the potential for change.”

Avery froze. “My—huh?”

“Louis identified Jane Hoarfrost as a candidate back in 1950 when she organized a Christmas parade in your hometown. A magnificent event. They were looking for a Santa, and Louis arranged for me to take part. She had me arrive at the parade by train. The Santa Express, they called it.” Santa stared into the distance for a moment. “She even had a mechanic put wheels on my sleigh, so my reindeer could pull me down the street. Thousands of people came to enjoy it. She was responsible for spreading so much joy to so many. She truly embodied the Christmas spirit.”

Avery remembered hearing about her grandmother’s Christmas parade when she was growing up. She’d seen photos, but she’d never considered how much work that must have taken, and what a splash she must have made to get noticed by the real Santa. She shook her head, trying to take it all in.

“She had so much natural talent. So much spirit. But, sadly, after spending some time with us, it was clear that she would never be able to wield the magic on her own—not the way one must in order to do the job.”

This information had Avery staggering back. Louis, who had regained his composure, stood by her side, a firm hand on her lower back, steadying her.

“Grandma was here? In the North Pole?”

“Oh yes. For about a month, wasn’t it, Louis? She opted to go home. She wanted to start a family.”

“She left a sweater in her locker, I think,” Louis added.

Avery thought back to the engraved nameplate above the locker in the changing room: Hoarfrost.

“You—knew my grandmother?” Avery asked Louis, astounded.

Louis gave her a small, sad smile. “Yes, but—I don’t think she remembered me,” he explained.

“Oh my god,” Avery gasped. “Her memories.”