"Is this your house?" Noelle asked as she kicked off her slush covered boots in the entry and walked into the ski lodge on holiday-themed steroids. Of Disneyland proportions. In the middle of full-on Christmas festivities.
Nick chuckled while shaking off his coat and leaving it on a wall hook. "Technically, as a true Millennial I still live with my parents, but this is the Klaas family home, that's right."
Rough-hewn board walls, exposed stone fireplaces, and unpretentious furniture in earth tones casually nestled under copious fir and holly garlands, sparkling fairy lights, and softball-sized glass ornaments. Holiday music played softly in the background, while the smell of freshly baked cookies permeated the air.
Leading them through a grand atrium with a six-reindeer carousel and under a winding staircase, Nick entered a family room big enough to hold a basketball court. Around the perimeter, tables loaded with food stood, while the middle was filled with plush seating enough for at least one hundred. On the far side, a stage with a red, velvet curtain was set up. And in the corner, a tuxedo wearing man sat at a baby grand piano. It wasn't a recording they've been listening to, but rather him playing live.
"Whoa," Noelle exhaled the exclamation. She didn't expect a small shack, but apparently being Santa Claus was quite a lucrative endeavor.
"Is that Michael Bublé?" Avery asked as she walked in behind them, but a large ball of grey fur jumped into her arms from the open landing above. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed in shock.
"Cat Damon?!" Noelle was just as surprised. But then guilt took over because she hadn't even noticed the animal missing from their hotel room. Or had he been there and she'd just not paid attention? "See? This is why I don't have any pets. What is he doing here, anyway?"
Nick took the cat out of Avery's hold since she was still staring at him with wide-eyed indecision about how to proceed. "He must have slipped out when someone opened your room door. All I know is he was standing at my front door when Otso got back from delivering your map."
Noelle was just about to ask about returning him to the right place, but Nick continued.
"But as long as you're all here, I don't see why you can't stay," he said, petting the cat who now appeared quite content in his arms. "We have plenty of space, and you can have your own rooms for your last few nights here."
Avery yawned. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Not that I have anything against the Aurora, but maybe a change will let me get some rest."
Nick appeared confused. "Why's that?"
Noelle waved her off. It was one thing for her to be getting so close to Nick in such a short time, but spending the night at his house hadn't been in her plans. "Oh, she just had some bad dreams last night so she didn't sleep well. I'm sure tonight will be much better."
"If you're tired now, you can still take a power nap in one of the guest rooms," Nick said, looking at Avery. "Your call."
Avery looked at Noelle for silent advice. She did look pretty haggard with circles under her eyes that weren't there yesterday. What harm would come from a quick lie-down especially while she would be awake and alert downstairs?
"Maybe Nick's right," Noelle finally admitted. "That second cup of glögg isn't doing you any favors right now, either. Go on. Get some rest."
Avery smiled at the encouragement.
"Second door on the left at the top of the stairs," Nick said, pointing her in the correct direction.
Left alone with Nick, Noelle focused on the details she couldn't quite absorb with Cat Damon's unscheduled appearance. "Are you expecting a lot of company?" She nodded toward the copious amounts of refreshments and seating.
"Yes, in a little while," Nick said, setting the cat down before walking to one of the tables and picking up a plate. "But I thought we'd eat—and talk—in private until then. Michael, can you give us a few minutes?" he called over to the pianist, who stopped in the middle of "Cold December Night" before leaving the room.
Noelle nodded. "All right," she said, following Nick's lead at the buffet. After stacking her plate with chicken meatballs, curried fish cakes, vegetable samosas, puff pastry pies, and petit fours in a variety of shapes and flavors, she plopped down on one of the couches. Nick also joined her.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asked, taking a bite of a hazelnut mignon. Starting with dessert was wholly appropriate. It was Christmas Eve, after all.
Nick skewered what looked like a caramelized parsnip with his fork. "Oh, I thought you'd have some questions," he said. "About what you saw last night, that is."
She remembered the dozen—or was it thirteen—Nordic gnomes he'd introduced to her in the cave and how learning of their existence confirmed that she had somehow stepped into the real world of Santa Claus. And Nick was his son? Heck yeah she had questions.
Licking the sticky fondant off her fingers, Noelle nodded. "I do. I do have questions," she said, but then words failed her. Where to begin? She hadn't planned for this as much as she should have. Running what she knew of Santa Claus from popular culture through her head, she landed on the most obvious point of contention. The modern version of Santa Claus in his cherry-red suit and sleigh pulled by reindeer had been around since the 19th century, but the St. Nicholas legend had existed for over a millennium and Father Christmas was even older. "Uhm, are you immortal or what?" she asked, not quite ready for the answer.
Nick laughed and thankfully didn't look offended. However, it took him way too long to answer, proving that he didn't get this question very often.
"Yes," he finally said, and Noelle gasped. To ease her reaction, he continued. "But in all fairness, you've also stopped aging since you set foot in Midwinter. Everyone does as long as they're here."
She blinked, still processing the information. The entire city was magic, and it was one of the reasons Nick could exist as he did. But that made things even more confusing. "Were you born here?" she asked.
"No. You have to age to be born. And obviously I had to grow up, didn't I?" He chuckled before taking a bite of the parsnip. "But I haven't been away in a very long time."
"And Santa Claus is your father."
He chewed and swallowed. "Yes."
Noelle cut a meatball in half. "So . . . does that mean you'll one day take over?" she asked.
"As Santa Claus?"
She nodded.
"Not quite," he said, shaking his head. "Dad will retire one day—travelling around the world even just one night a year for centuries does add up—but the traditional work of the big man in red isn't what it used to be. Because of technology and so many people not even believing in the magic of Christmas, what he does can easily be done remotely from our control room that you saw yesterday."
"Huh. So even Santa's job can be outsourced," Noelle said with sincere bitterness. "That's peak twenty-first century, right there."
Nick frowned in solidarity. "At least there are still some people who need us. What I'm really worried about is when that's no longer true, and we cease to exist."
"Wait. Is that really possible?" Noelle asked. She hadn't even considered that.
He nodded, his face even more solemn. "I'm afraid so. And can you imagine a Christmas without Santa Claus and just heaps of next-day delivery boxes of things you use once before they end up in a landfill or worse? Like choking the fish in the oceans just because people think consumables will fill the void in their lives?"
Noelle internally cringed. What Nick was describing was exactly how she had planned to spend her Christmas this year if she hadn't been invited to Keskitalvi. And he was correct. It wasn't the way to make her happy. Being here was.
"How do we stop that from happening? How do we make sure people continue to believe?" she asked with increased anxiety. It had taken her meeting little mythical men to change her mind, but that was impossible for everyone. Knowing the malice and greed in the world, some people would probably want to put the tonttu into a circus show or subject them to scientific probes. She shuddered at the thought.
He finally smiled again. After wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, Nick leaned in and kissed her. "One person at a time," he said, barely pulling away.
"Like me?" she asked, staring into his incredibly blue eyes. They were the color of the sky on a clear summer day.
He kissed her again. "Like you. And then the people you make believe, then those they convince, and so on and so on."
It was Noelle's turn to laugh. "Who'd listen to me? Everyone who knows me also knows that I hate Christmas. Uhm, hated."
Instead of answering, Nick put his plate down and grabbed the bags Noelle had dropped by the buffet. Returning to her side, he pulled out two wrapped bundles and handed them to her.
"You asked what these were for," he said as she folded back the tissue paper. "So this is when I tell you that it's not for what, but rather for whom."
Noelle looked at the ballet slippers and nutcracker doll that she'd gotten in the market. "I'm supposed to give these to someone?" she asked.
Nick nodded. "Yes. To your parents, actually. Let's call them belated Christmas presents they'd wished for as kids, but due to unfortunate circumstances, they were never delivered."
Noelle's eyes teared up. "Better late than never?" she asked with a sniffle, not doubting the reasoning, but a bit confused by the objects themselves. Her six-foot tall, fencing national champion mom didn't seem like the ballerina type, while her pacifist, classically trained musician dad never felt like a toy soldier enthusiast. "Thank you. But are you sure these are the right gifts?"
"Subvert your assumptions," he said in earnest, momentarily stumping Noelle.
It took her imagining the items in the opposite hands before she realized that they made much more sense that way. "Oh," she exhaled the surprised syllable. "Of course. It sounds like you know my parents better than I do, which means that it's only fair that you tell me more about yours. And let's start with the most obvious: how did your dad get to be Santa Claus?"
He smiled and pointed to the stage. "That's exactly what the play will be about."
"The play?" she asked, but the doorbell rang to the tune of 'Carol of the Bells' (because what else would it be?). Instead of elaborating, Nick went to answer the door. Soon, children of all ages—thankfully followed by their parents—streamed into the room.
This was my #NaNoWriMo2019 project, but because November is so hectic (seriously, who thought it would be a good idea to have NaNo this month?!) this story is spilling into December. No worries, since it's Christmas themed and it will definitely be finished before the end of the month. While I absolutely love all of my silent readers, I would LOVE to get your encouragement while writing this story. So please, please, please add it to your libraries, vote on the chapters (I'm striving for daily updates once again!) and leave me comments. <3
Sorry for the short break, but I was on vacation and I was too cheap to use roaming service or pay $20 a day for local wi-fi. I'm back now, so updates will be coming again!