Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Niece,” he corrects.
“If your niece would like to leave a letter, you can pop it in the mailbox by the candy cane.”
I point to the massive postal setup a few feet away.
“Can I?” the little girl implores, full of glee. He gives permission with a nod, and she rushes over to the table to write a letter that will never be sent. This is all just wrong.
“Where is Santa, really?” the stranger asks, sliding his hands into his jean pockets. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to stand in that line and keep a six-year-old occupied? I don’t like wasting time.”
“Let’s be real here, half these kids don’t even want to do it. They’re terrified. Do you have any idea what it’s like to get your hopes up, and ask the one man you’re told will answer all your dreams for something, and then be disappointed on Christmas day?”
His eyes drift down my red felt mini dress and green tights to my curled shoes, and back up again. “You’re very jaded for an elf.”
“Listen, I don’t know how to break this to you. So, I’m going to rip the band aid off.” I step closer to whisper, “Santa isn’t real; we’re all big liars.”
He looks taken aback for a moment, before he chuckles. “Thanks for enlightening me,” he says, amused. The carefree transformation to his chiseled face is so startling I step back, because he smells like everything I ever wanted and didn’t get.
“You’re welcome,” I tell him before I’m called away to deal with a disgruntled mother wrestling a toddler. Five minutes later, when she’s finally appeased with a free cookie coupon, the handsome stranger is gone.
“Hope they have a backup for tomorrow,” Jenna says, as we collect our handbags from the secret door behind the faux fireplace. “Don’t want to have to deal with that again.”
Luckily, I won’t have to, since today is my last day. And where does my future take me? Into the mountains. It’s a career opportunity, one I set up long before the pink slip was handed to me. If I can convince the owner of Mountain Goat Cabins to put my soaps in his resort and spa, my life just might be salvaged. Along with my Christmas spirit.
“Have a merry Christmas,” I tell her.
I make a quick pit stop in the bathroom to switch my elf attire for a pink sweater, black leggings, and boots before leaving the cacophony of the mall for a quiet drive to the resort. I need to hurry if I’m going to beat the snow. It’s expected to be a heavy snowfall tonight, and I want to make sure I have a stiff drink in my hand while I prepare my notes.
After nearly an hour, I arrive. Your destination is on the right, my GPS tells me, as if I could miss it.
“Holy balls,” I murmur to myself, as I pull into the large parking lot. Pictures on the internet really don’t do this place justice. It’s like a Christmas village for millionaires snuggled in the picturesque Colorado mountains. I grab my bag and hustle into the lobby of the monstrous snow topped log building that’s strung with enough lights to make Clark Griswold look like an amateur.
A cheery worker with a blonde bob, wearing a black button down, greets me at the front desk.
After a few types on her keyboard, she hands me a key card, along with details about free breakfast and directions to my cabin. ‘Cabin’ is a bit of an understatement; it’s bigger than my apartment. I waltz through the living area filled with wood accented leather furniture, back to the master suite, complete with a fireplace.
Before I trek back to the lounge for a drink, I peek in the oversized bathroom to check out the competition. Average at best toiletries sit in a wicker basket on the countertop. This place needs something more luxurious.
Feeling a little more confident, visions of dollar signs dance in my head when I step into the lounge of the Mountain Goat. A large, roaring fire blazes in the stone fireplace in the front of the lounge. An oak bar sits behind a Christmas tree that almost touches the top of the cathedral ceilings. It’s decked out in gold and red, and it warms me up on this dreary evening.
My hopes don’t falter though, if I can land this account, my entrepreneurial dreams will come true. I’ve done my research, and there are one hundred cabins rented out year-round, and I figure, at least half of the vacationers will steal the bars of soap and tubes of lotions I make, so Serendipity Soaps will potentially be nationwide.
I beeline for the bar stretching along the back wall. The television behind the liquor plays the LGC shopping channel, and I spot cute red knee-high boots I’d love to buy if I had the money to splurge this holiday. Soon boots soon.