Page 31 of Santa’s Lawyer

“Ho, ho, ho! I knew you could do it!” Avery turned to see Santa emerge from the cheering crowd. The real Santa. Her Santa. The one she’d known since she was a baby.

Avery ran to him and threw herself into his outstretched arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, Avery, I’m so sorry,” he said, patting her shoulders. “To take on this job, the magic requires a test that truly challenges your understanding of Christmas and your commitment to its spirit. Your understanding was so deep, your commitment so true, this was the only thing for it. I hope you’ll forgive our ruse. I never doubted you for a moment.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” she said, reluctantly ending their hug.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Santa softly insisted.

Avery saw Louis desperately trying to navigate the crowd that had formed between them. “Avery,” he gasped. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Consider us even,” she said, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

“Please know that I never wanted to go along with this in the first place,” Louis insisted, with a sidelong glance to Santa. “But it was the only way. And the stakes were never meant to be so high. I never dreamed in a million years that Avery Hoarfrost could…”

Louis took her hands.

“Losing Christmas, those memories with your family, that was already asking too much. You were never supposed to be risking this," he said, squeezing her hands, "on top of all that." He shook his head. “If you need space to sort all this out, or if you simply never want to speak again, I completely un—”

Avery put a finger to Louis’ lips.

“Please don’t finish that thought,” she said quietly.

He exhaled hard. The color returned to his face.

Avery brushed her finger across his cheek. “I couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting you.”

Louis wrapped his arms around Avery and pulled her into a hug. “But how did you solve it?” he asked quietly, still holding her tight.

“I knew something was wrong the minute I met your fake Santa,” she said, pulling out of his arms and gesturing at the man walking toward them through the crowd. “But I didn’t piece it together until after we—” Blushing, she took his hand. “He said that there were no more Christmas miracles. But this, you and me,” she said, as the skin where their hands touched began to glow, “it’s all quite miraculous, as you keep saying.”

Louis kissed her hand.

“And why would you have bothered recruiting me and testing me if you wanted someone who was willing to immediately throw everything they knew about Christmas out the window? Not to mention,” Avery said loudly, turning to the false Santa Claus who had joined the group, “you never gave me a present when we met.”

“Terribly rude of me, I do apologize for the breach in etiquette,” he insisted, reaching out to shake Avery’s hand. “I’m Stephen. Santa’s current lawyer. I didn’t believe a single thing I said in that meeting room, and it absolutely killed me to say them out loud, especially to you, Ms. Hoarfrost. I do hope that you’ll give me the opportunity to make a second first impression.”

He produced a small gift box, which Avery opened. A miniature mechanical cardinal, studded with rubies, launched from the box. It swooped along her cheek, gathered a few loose strands of hair, clipped them in its tiny talons, and secured itself firmly to the side of her head.

Avery could only smile, speechless, still not immune to the wondrous nature of the gifts she’d been given.

“And I believe this is for you, Santa,” Stephen said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He produced the present Avery had given him earlier that day.

Santa looked up at Avery and smiled as he opened it. Inside was a small, framed photo of Avery, her mom, and Santa. Avery was four years old, dressed in red velvet, sitting on Santa’s lap at the Candle Emporium. He hadn’t aged a day.

To Avery’s surprise, Santa’s eyes began to shimmer. Tears began to fall down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“You look so much like her,” he said quietly.

Avery paused.

Santa sniffed. “This is for you, my dear. Merry Christmas.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

She unwrapped it to find a candle made of golden wax in a glass jar. The label across the front said “Avery.” She took off the lid and inhaled: it smelled like molasses, coffee, and freshly baked caramel corn. Her perfume.

“How?” she asked, astonished.

“Louis came to me this morning, completely out of sorts,” Santa explained. “He said he had just encountered the most intoxicating thing. The scent was lingering on his suit. He asked me how he could preserve it. And, as you know, candles are a specialty of mine. So, I captured it and made one for him. It seemed only fitting that you should have one, too.”