Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(43)

The heat of the Children’s Museum lobby warmed her, giving her a shiver, as she ushered Max through the glass doors. Nick was holding it open for her, and she had to duck under his arm to get in. Burgundy velvet ropes stretched throughout the lobby like an enormous Christmas maze, and at the front were a few families waiting to get in. Max ran ahead of them through the ropes.

“Slow down, Max,” Abbey called. “You don’t want to ruin your clothes by falling.”

Once Max was out of earshot, she turned to Nick. His face was calm and content as he looked down at her. “We could’ve just gone to the mall,” she said. “I know you have work to do—I’ve kept you from it all afternoon.”

“You get to do this every year,” he said, his face honest. “But I don’t. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Santa Claus.”

Happiness swelled in her chest, making her smile at his comment. He certainly could be charming when he wanted to. “It is fun,” she said, looking over at Max.

They caught up with Max and moved through the double doors to the carpeted, plush room where Santa sat. The line was busier in there, the snaking velvet ropes continuing on through that room as well. The throne was large and golden, the seat and back a deep spruce green.

A gorgeous red Santa hat with a dangling white snowball at the end was draped on the back corner of the throne, but Santa wasn’t there. Abbey noticed the concern on Max’s face as the line shuffled forward. A girl dressed like an elf sat smiling at the register. The throne was sitting on a slight stage, and behind it was a real-looking fireplace. On that stage, at the very corner, sat a young woman in a white dress—the dress was so beautiful it could’ve been a wedding dress. She was wearing a diamond tiara, long, white gloves, and what looked to be a very small microphone. It was hardly noticeable.

“Santa will return shortly,” she said, her voice like wind chimes. She was so young and strikingly beautiful that Abbey almost believed she could be someone magical. “He’s just feeding his reindeer. If you’d like, children, you can sit quietly in your places in line until he returns.”

Max sat down, a giant smile on his face. He didn’t sit long though before he popped up. He gasped and pointed at the fireplace. Abbey followed his line of sight. To her astonishment, there, floating in the empty space inside the fireplace were two thick, black boots. How did they manage that? she thought. Abbey was just as captivated as her son.

With a thud, they hit the ground, and she could see the dark red fur of Santa’s costume. Slowly, carefully, he bent down, his white beard showing just as the sound of jingle bells came from somewhere on the roof. He ducked out of the fireplace and stood with a loud, “Ho ho ho!” It all was so realistic that Abbey got goose bumps and she had to rub her arms to relieve them.

Santa’s hair was long and white, perfectly combed and parted down the middle. His cheeks were rosy like they were in the storybooks Abbey had read as a child. His coat was thick and furry, deep red like his trousers, with white fluffy cuffs that met his white gloves. His beard, clearly real, curled just slightly against the front of his coat. Santa pulled off his gloves and set them on the side table next to his throne.

“Thank you for waiting, children,” he said in a deep dreamy voice that projected across the entire room. “My reindeer get hungry and if I don’t take a break and feed them, they start stomping on the roof! It’s very annoying. Now, let me just get comfortable,” he said, sitting down on his throne. “Our snow queen, Catherine, will keep you company while you wait your turn.”

Abbey watched as the first child walked up to the woman in the big, white dress. She looked every bit the part of a snow queen. “Hello,” she said quietly as Santa wriggled himself comfortable in his chair. “What is your name?”

“Timothy,” the little boy said shyly.

“Timothy,” she said slightly louder, and Abbey caught on to their theatrics. “Timothy,” she said again, “have you come to sit on Santa’s lap?” Santa scratched his ear as the boy nodded. “Well… Timothy, you may go right ahead.”

Across the stage, Santa, who seemed too far away to hear Timothy’s conversation with the snow queen, turned and said, “Well, Timothy! It’s great to see you! How have you been this year?” The boy climbed up on Santa’s lap, and Max turned around with an astonished look on his face. Watching it all play out, seeing Santa Claus greet every child by name as they climbed up on stage—it was like a real fairytale.