Page 7 of Santa’s Lawyer

ARE YOU REALLY SURE?

I’M REALLY SURE

OR

MAYBE I’LL SLEEP ON IT

Avery scoffed, pushing the elevator button for her floor and clicking “I’M REALLY SURE.” These people had a sense of humor.

An animation appeared on her screen of Santa’s flying reindeer pulling his sleigh silhouetted against the moon, with the caption:

Excitement thrummed in Avery’s veins as she dashed out of the elevator and into her apartment. She kicked off her shoes and threw down her purse and coat as her phone dinged again. Another text from Louis:

"We are thrilled to have received your application. We’ll speak soon. I’m very much looking forward to seeing you again, Ms. Hoarfrost."

Avery let out a little squeal. She decided she now had two goals: nail the interview process to get this job, whatever it was, and make Louis fall in love with her.

Easy.

She responded:

"The thrill is entirely mine, Louis. And call me Avery."

After powering down her electric Christmas wonderland, she pranced her way to bed. She fell soundly asleep in her favorite silk pajamas, while visions of kissing Louis under the mistletoe danced in her head.

CHAPTER TWO-AND-A-HALF

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

The next morning, Avery awoke feeling better than she had in years. Before she even opened her eyes, she noticed that her back pain, a constant for the last decade, was gone. It was the perfect temperature under her blankets. Her pillow felt softer. The air smelled fresher, almost fruity. It was like a dream.

Opening her eyes, she was surprised at how little panic she felt when she discovered that she wasn’t in her own bed. She was in a small, dim, dormitory-style room with high ceilings and a golden chandelier. The walls were made of dark wood, accented with gold sconces providing soft, warm light. A red velvet headboard sat between the wall and her bed. A bronze railing ran along the wall, like in an old train car.

She slid herself to the edge of the bed and looked down at the plush green and gold carpet. There was a pair of black velvet slippers beside her bed, which she slid her feet into. She stood, straightened her pajamas, and took a step forward.

A small wooden table with a basket of stone fruit—plums and peaches—sat next to a door. She picked up a peach and smelled it. It was real, and the fuzz tickled her nose. She set the fruit back in the basket, glanced around once more, and put an ear to the door. Soft, familiar, jazzy music was playing on the other side. Vince Guaraldi.

She reached for the handle of the large wooden door which silently slid open into a pocket in the wall before she could touch it.

Avery found herself on the threshold of a small, cozy waiting room. There was a fireplace, a couch, a coffee table heavily laden with Christmas cookies beside a large silver carafe, and a reception window, barricaded by a golden gate. Directly before her was a sign on a tall, golden stand. It said:

CHAPTER THREE

THE NORTH POLE, RECEPTION

“Next!” The golden grate in front of the reception window rolled up to reveal a polar bear in cat-eye glasses and a pearl necklace, holding a pen and a clipboard.

Avery blinked hard and looked around. After a moment, she stepped across the threshold of the waiting room, and the door slid closed behind her. Then the bedroom door, and the entire bedroom with it, rolled away. It chugged down the hallway on an invisible track and disappeared.

Stunned, she turned back to the reception desk where the polar bear was writing something on her clipboard, her large paw grasping an equally large pen.

“Excuse me,” Avery said, finding her voice. “Good morning. I think, um, can you please tell me if I’m dreaming?”

“Good morning!” the polar bear replied. “You must be—” she looked down, consulting the clipboard, “Avery Hoarfrost. We’ve been expecting you.”

“Oh! Well, then.” A question occurred to Avery. She expected a feeling of dread or maybe even terror along with it, but no such feelings came. “Am I...dead?” Remembering her manners, she added, “Ms.—?”

“Tilly.”