The Emergency Claus Read online

  The Emergency Claus

  Robin Roseau

  Table of Contents

  The Family Business

  Back to Normal

  Denial Denied

  The Big Day (Part Two)

  Valentine's Day

  The Family Business

  I was long accustomed to the looks I received, once people realized who I was and what I was there for. Everyone thinks an efficiency expert is there to fire half the company. I never recommended mass firings, although at times I might make specific recommendations to reassign employees who were poor fits for their jobs. "Reassign" is a euphemism, of course.

  So when I walked into the break room at Middleton Plastics, I wasn't surprised when the conversation stilled for a moment and everyone turned to face me. New murmuring swept through the room, and I heard my name a few times, usually prefaced with "that bitch". I wish I could say it didn't bother me, but I was genetically unable to lie, a gift from Dear Old Dad. Yes, it bothered me.

  But I was good at this. I could walk into a company and within minutes tell you where the largest inefficiencies were to be found. And I charged an arm and a leg for the reports I generated reporting those inefficiencies. I always hoped companies would use the information I gave them to improve the quality of their products or lower the price, but nearly always, they used my advice to trim payroll and improve the bottom line for the owners.

  My eyes swept the room, centering on inefficiencies. The paths between the tables were inefficient. Having a single food line meant people waited in line for the people in front of them. There were no signs declaring the specials each day, so oftentimes, people weren't able to make choices until they arrived at the head of the line and saw what was available. As an improvement, it would take only a few minutes to update signs each morning, and food selection could be made more efficient for everyone.

  Of course, that would move the bottleneck to the checkout. There were ways to improve that, too, but they involved spending money, and I was pretty sure the company wouldn't do that. Still, I'd make my recommendations, knowing they wouldn't listen to enough to really improve things.

  No one was ever interested in real improvements; they only wanted more money.

  I sighed and waited in line to select my own lunch.

  Eventually, several minutes later than necessary, I took an empty table for myself. I didn't even look around for someone to join; I knew the only people who would be interested in my company were the ones who were sucking up, hoping for a good word in my report. The suck-ups were nearly universally the ones who most needed to be "reassigned". I didn't care to sit with them.

  So I was surprised five minutes later when Julia Jeffries sat down across the table from me. Julia wasn't at all a suck up. She was, if anything, one of the most efficient workers I had ever seen. I'd been in awe watching her for two hours last week as she effectively multi-tasked, juggling up to four conversations at a time and doing well with all of them.

  "So, Ms. Clause," she said. "What's your story?"

  I paused, surprised. I didn't think she would have time for small talk.

  She smiled. "This is the time I let my brain reset a little," she said. "On nice days in the summer, I sit outside and practice yoga. In the winter, I find someone to talk to for a few minutes. I find this time to be critical to avoid making mistakes later this afternoon."

  "Very efficient," I said. She smiled. We were kindred spirits. "If this is a social visit, call me Tabitha." I returned her smile.

  "I don't really have a story," I told her. "Undergrad from Luther College. Business degree from Wharton. I worked for Benson and Waters for four years before striking out on my own."

  "That's a very... efficient recitation," Julia said. "Where did you grow up?"

  "Here and there," I said. "Dad traveled a lot for business." I'll say. Every Christmas Eve, there was Dad in his red suit and sleigh. Starting when I was twelve, he started taking me along for "company", but I overheard him one year talking wistfully to Mom about when I'd take over the family business.

  I couldn't have been less interested in the family business, although I had to admit: the elves taught me everything I knew about efficiency. Oh, what a few of them could do to some of the places I had consulted. If you want hard workers, you should see the elves. I've never seen any other group of people who could seem so frivolous while producing goods the way they did.

  Every time I see my friend, Buttercup, I try to lure her away from Dad to work for me. She laughs and doesn't even bother answering. But I thought I was wearing her down. Two years ago it looked like she might actually be considering it. Maybe next time I saw her I'd suggest I'd work for her; wouldn't she get a kick out of that? The daughter of Santa Claus working for an elf?

  Dad would go apoplectic when he heard. I wondered if I could get Petunia to take photos.

  For the next several minutes, I deflected the more dangerous of Julia's questions while getting in a few of my own. I was well-practiced deflecting attention from my parents and upbringing. I didn't need people thinking I was loony.

  Adults do not believe in Santa Claus, after all, or in his daughter.

  * * * *

  By Friday, I finished my stint at Middleton Plastics. I vowed to have a report to them by end of the year along with my final invoice. I always charged half my fee to show up and the other half on delivery of my report. Getting companies to pay the second half was often a battle, but at least I always had half my fee in the meantime.

  I arrived home late on Friday; the weathermen had gotten it wrong again, and we had gotten a fresh load of snow beginning about noon on Friday. Rush hour traffic had been terrible, and I decided to make sure the local weather service was on Dad's "naughty" list.

  Arriving home, I mentally apologized. It wasn't the weatherman's fault.

  Pulling into my cul-de-sac, I couldn't miss the sight on top of my roof. Dancer, Prancer, Donner and Blitzen were standing on my roof, one of the smaller sleighs parked right next to the chimney. I swore. Was this a parental visit or had one of Dad's minions come to see me.

  I knew it wasn't Mom. She hated the sleigh and always travelled via commercial airlines, first class, of course. Mom always got free upgrades.

  One might think that a half a herd of reindeer sitting on my roof, along with a bright red sleigh, would gather a little attention. And they would, if it weren't for the magic. No one would see them.

  The snow must have been Dad's fault, or that of whichever minion he had sent. We hadn't any snow, so there was nowhere for the sleigh to land. They couldn't land on a bare roof, after all. So someone had dialed up an emergency mini-blizzard just so they could land on my roof. I sighed. Nothing like adversely affecting traffic for an entire metropolitan area just for a parental visit. Dad could be worse than the President.

  I almost drove away. Why didn't I live in Miami? Good luck calling down a snowstorm in Miami.

  What? Doesn't Dad visit kids in Miami? Of course, but the rules don't apply to Dad on Christmas Eve. The rest of the year, though, he had to follow all the rules.

  Well, Claus rules. I don't recommend hitching up eight or nine caribou to the front of an overladen sleigh and telling them to run off the nearest cliff in hopes they'll learn to fly. They won't. Trust me. I tried it once.

  Mom was so mad, and Rudolph wouldn't talk to me for a month.

  I didn't drive away. Whoever it was would just pull down a bigger snowstorm and I would get stranded in the middle of the highway. It had happened before.

  Parents can be such a pain in the ass.

  I pulled into my garage, climbed from the car, and sighed, knowing I'd have to deal with whoever this was then go out and shovel the snow. My back hurt already.
/>
  The moment I got inside, I could smell hot chocolate with just the right amount of cinnamon. And... yes, sugar cookies! Bribes. Someone had baked me bribes. If I was susceptible to anything, it was hot chocolate with cinnamon, and sugar cookies for dunking. Damn it. Well, it wasn't Dad.

  "All right," I called out. "Where are you?"

  I stepped into the kitchen, looking around. The cocoa, steaming, was sitting next to a plate of cookies. I knew they were for me. I picked up the bribe; it didn't matter whether I did or not. I knew whatever I was being asked to do, I'd end up doing it. I always did. I may as well enjoy the bribe.

  "Hello, Tabitha."

  I swore.

  "Hello, Lachlan." I turned to face him. He was standing at the other end of the kitchen. He hadn't been there before. I saluted him with the cocoa. "Thank you."

  Elf cocoa was magical, of course. As hard as she had tried, Buttercup had never been able to teach me how to make it, but all the elves could and none of them understood why mine was never as good. But I knew: it was the magic.

  He nodded. "Did you try one of the cookies?"

  I picked up a cookie, dunked it in the cocoa, and bit into it. It was, of course, wonderful. I smiled and nodded.

  "Something new?" I asked.

  He smiled. "Secret ingredient."

  What was amazing is that I knew he'd made these cookies in my own kitchen with ingredients he found waiting for him. I couldn't have done it. I finished the cookie, washing it down with more of the cocoa and pulling up a stool. Lachlan took another stool and waited to have my complete attention.

  But he would have been deeply offended if I hadn't properly appreciated his cooking first.

  "Wonderful as always," I said to him after eating a second cookie. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome, Tabitha."

  "I take it the snowstorm was your doing?"

  He actually looked embarrassed about it. "I'm sorry," he said. "I did the time zones wrong. I didn't mean to snarl rush hour."

  "I understand," I said. I did. Living at the North Pole, it can be very difficult to keep the time zones correct. After all, it had been full night up there for weeks.

  "Well," I said, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

  "You need to come home, Tabitha," he said.

  "I am home," I said, gesturing around the kitchen.

  He offered an expression that suggested he didn't appreciate my deliberate attempt to act dense.

  I sighed. "Why?"

  "Your father has had an accident."

  "What? Is he okay? How is Mom? What happened?"

  "Calm down," he said immediately. "He's fine, mostly, but he broke his leg, and he doesn't heal the way he used to."

  Dad was Santa Claus. I narrowed my eyes. He'd never broken a thing in his life. His magic wouldn't allow it. How can he deliver presents with his leg in a cast, after all?

  "No one understands how it happened," Lachlan went on. "Theoretically, this should be impossible. The toys must be delivered, after all."

  "Broke his leg."

  "Yes."

  "How badly?"

  "Cast up to here," Lachlan said, sliding his hand across his leg just below his hip.

  "When?"

  "A month ago."

  "A month? And I'm just finding out about it now? Whose decision was that?" Dad was a pain in the ass, but I loved him, and I should have been there for him.

  "He didn't want you to fuss. You know he's trying to let you live as normal a life as he can." Lachlan shook his head. "I don't understand, Tabitha." He looked around. "Why would you want to live here? And I've watched the way your clients treat you. I keep trying to put each and every one on the Naughty list, but your dad said to stay out of it."

  "You wouldn't understand," I said. "A girl has needs, Lachlan."

  He cocked his head and then his lips formed into a big "oh".

  "It's not like I can inherit the family business," I went on to explain. "Who ever heard of Santa Claus being a girl?"

  "You're supposed to find a nice guy, get married..."

  "Lachlan," I said. "If you've been watching, by now you know how much interest I have in that plan. Mom is just going to have to pop out another baby, and this one better be a boy."

  "Your mother is no spring chicken anymore, Tabitha," Lachlan said.

  "Poppycock. The magic won't let her age until someone steps in to take over from Dad. And lord knows, that isn't going to be me, or anyone I'm going to marry. Mom loves kids. I can't believe she hasn't had another." I paused, and something horrible occurred to me. "Oh no! She and Dad broke up years ago, and they just never bothered to tell me!"

  Lachlan laughed. He laughed so hard, he actually fell off his stool. Damned elves. Everything was always so funny to them.

  "It's not funny!" I said. "She needs to make a new baby!"

  Lachlan looked up at me from the floor. "Tabitha, if she isn't producing babies, it isn't because your dad isn't trying. And while I hesitate to say this, your mother is not quiet when she and your dad get amorous."

  I thought about what he said and immediately turned six shades of red. "Lachlan!" I stuck my fingers in my ears and began humming, which simply put him into new gales of laughter.

  "Humans," he said. "What's the big deal about sex, anyway? It's a celebration, and you all treat it like something to be ashamed of."

  "I do not want to think of my mom making -- what? Howling noises?"

  "She sounds more like an arctic fox." Lachlan began yelping in imitation.

  "Stop it!" I yelled. "That is quite enough out of you." I sighed. "So, I need to go home, check in on Dad, fluff his pillow, then what?"

  Lachlan climbed to his feet, taking one of the cookies from the plate. I was tempted to hoard them, but I knew he would have more waiting for me. The elves were never stingy with their cookies.

  I finished the hot cocoa and looked at the mug pointedly. Lachlan laughed, took the mug from me, and turned to the stove to brew another cup for me.

  "Tabitha," he said over his shoulder. "No. You do not need to fluff Santa's pillow. You need to come home and prepare to take over for him."

  "No!" I said.

  "You have no choice. He can't do it this year."

  "You go," I said. "You know the route, anyway, and probably have the entire list memorized."

  "Santa is not an elf," Lachlan said, turning around and handing me the cocoa.

  "He's not a woman, either," I said. "Dad's leg will just need to heal."

  "Christmas Eve is next week."

  "I know, and I haven't finished my shopping."

  He offered a droll expression.

  "I promised Buttercup a new iPad."

  He laughed. "Buttercup sure does like the newest Apple products."

  "Can you blame her?"

  "They sure are shiny," he agreed. "Hurry up. Drink your cocoa, finish your cookies, and get dressed. We have a long flight."

  "You want me to go tonight?" I asked. "No. I have a date tomorrow."

  "This is more important than a date," he replied.

  "Oh no, it's not," I said. "I've been trying to get a date with Charity Jones for six months. She finally said yes, and no way am I canceling on her. She could be the one, Lachlan."

  "Charity Jones," he said. He took on an expression, and then his face changed. "Oh my. No. You cannot date Charity Jones. She is definitely on the naughty list."

  I smiled. "I know. Why do you think I want to go out with her?"

  "Tabitha!" he said, shocked. "I forbid it."

  I crossed my arms. "Fine. I'm not going with you then. Someone else can pinch hit for Dad this year."

  We glared at each other, then Lachlan's lips began quivering upwards. "You're cute when you're acting stubborn."

  I wished I had something to throw at him. I picked up one of the cookies and briefly contemplated a food fight. I dunked the cookie into the cocoa instead.

  "So, what?" I asked. "You waltz in here-"

  "I did not waltz,
" he said. "It was more of a boogie."

  I sighed. He was being literal. He probably was boogie-woogie dancing to music on the iPod I'd given him two years ago. Buttercup wasn't the only elf who liked shiny toys.

  "Fine," I said. "So you boogie in here, bribe me with cocoa and cookies-"

  "They aren't a bribe!" He sounded indignant.

  "-drop this on me about Dad, and then think I'm going to drop everything and give up a date with my dream woman."

  "She's not your dream woman, Tabitha, and we both know it." He offered a stern expression. "You just want to learn first hand how she landed on the naughty list."

  "And what's wrong with that?" I asked.

  "Well, what you're thinking isn't how she got on the naughty list, and you know that, too. This woman would not be good for you."

  "You don't think any woman would be good for me," I complained. "You want me to marry some nice guy to follow in Dad's footsteps."

  His expression softened. "No, Tabitha. I want you to be happy. And everyone knows that won't make you happy. Now, finish your cocoa. I have more cookies for the ride, and another thermos of cocoa already in the sleigh. It's time to go. I'll grab your coat."

  "No! I have a date tomorrow night, and I'm going. You can come back on Sunday."

  Lachlan offered a droll expression. We both knew how far a ride it was.

  "Fine. You can stay here until Sunday."

  "I can't afford to be gone that long, Tabitha," he said gently.

  I don't know what it was about Lachlan, but he always brought out my inner child. I stomped my foot. "I haven't had a date in months! And yes, I want to experience a little ride on the naughty list. Now, you can have the guest room or you can come back on Sunday."

  Lachlan offered a kind but firm expression. "I'm sorry, Tabitha. I didn't want to do it this way." He paused, and I was suddenly filled with dread. "I am invoking the Emergency Claus."

  "Oh you didn't!" I yelled as the room began to fill with twinkling lights, dim at first, but they grew brighter and soon filled the room, almost too bright to see. I thought about running, but I knew it wouldn't do me an ounce of good. I stepped away from the island as the lights began to swirl around and around, centered on me. I held my arms away from my sides as the lights all settled onto me.