Up at seven. At work by nine. Off at five, and home ten minutes later. Start shift at Santa’s Village at six. Home by ten. In bed by eleven thirty. And repeat.
By Thursday, I’m definitely feeling the effects of my new routine. I know my body will eventually adjust, but in the meantime I have these super fun little episodes throughout the day where I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and my brain focused on what I’m doing.
When an email pops up from Bridget, I’m worried she’s caught me dozing at my desk and is going to tell me to get it together.
Dearest Miss Sima,
Your presence is requested for an hour at noon. I’ve cleared my schedule and threatened Michelle with bodily harm if she so much as thinks of adding anything to the docket until after one o’clock. Will you join David and me for a leisurely lunch at the diner? My treat. It’s long overdue.
See you at noon (because this was obviously a rhetorical question and I won’t take no for an answer).
~B xoxo
I glance down the hall toward Bridget’s office door. She’s sitting at her desk, straining to see me through the small window that overlooks the office. Her face cracks into a huge grin when our eyes meet, and my lips lift in response. I nod to her, and she does the same before shifting her attention back to her computer.
*****
Bridget and I settle into our favorite booth at the diner down the street from our office. We discovered this place six years ago when we became friends during our first week at Quest. The cafeteria in our building serves decent food and we pack lunches occasionally, but if we could get away with it, I think we’d both choose to eat here every day. David is stuck in a meeting that ran long, so he’ll be joining us when he can.
“How’s my favorite elf?” Bridget asks after the waitress takes our drink order.
“Tired.” I offer her a small smile, and she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “But good. I really shouldn’t complain. I know a lot of people can’t find a job and here I have two. With the extra money I’m making at the Village, I can pay off my car faster, plus the rest of my student loans. I might just be debt-free within the next year.”
“That’s a dream for a lot of people these days,” Bridget says. We often discuss how grateful we are to have stable careers that pay well. After Bridget’s dad died two years ago, her mom was set with his life insurance, until she had a heart attack and ended up needing a lot of care. The lease on Bridget’s apartment was coming up, and since she wasn’t overly fond of the place to begin with, she moved in with her mom to help with the finances and her recovery.
“I’d also like to be able to help people who are less fortunate,” I say. “Pretty soon the firefighters will be collecting toys for kids, and the food bank always needs donations.”
“Plus there’s the Christmas Sharing program where you can sponsor a family and make sure they have food for the holidays and gifts if they have kids,” Bridget says. “I’m going to be calling a staff meeting soon to see how the team feels about sponsoring five or six families. They can donate money or specific items.”
“I love that idea. Meredith was telling me the Village does all kinds of things for the community in December. Food drive, toy drive, monetary donations to various local organizations.”
Bridget sighs, propping her chin on her hand. “Now I want to work there even more.”
I chuckle. “You’d love it.”
“Are you loving it?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “I am. I wanted to kill Celia at first for volunteering me, but it’s a lot of fun. Which, of course, makes Celia super smug and more insufferable than usual.”
Bridget lets out a loud “Ha!” and shakes her head. “After months of bouncing from one job to another, I guess you should be glad she seems to have found her calling.”
“The Grooge,” we say together, dissolving into laughter.
“I hate that I haven’t had time to visit you there yet,” Bridget says. I don’t bother pointing out I’ve only been working a grand total of three days. “I want to see you in action and then stuff my face with food and ride the carousel and feed the reindeer. Do you think I’m too old for breakfast with Santa?”
Breakfast with Santa is something the Village does every Saturday morning. There are a few coveted reserved spots, including a handful of names that are chosen from a weekly drawing. The rest of the seats are first come first served. It’s held in a big dining room near Santa’s House, and families get to have an elaborate breakfast and hang out with Santa for an hour.
“Santa would probably love it,” I say.
Bridget laughs, likely picturing what I told her about all those elves taking a turn on Santa’s lap. “Have you met Santa yet?”
I shake my head. “I’ve managed to avoid him since that first night. There’ll be no sitting on Santa’s lap for me, thank you very much.”
A deep, accented voice behind me says, “Oh come on, Ivy, be a good sport. You don’t want a lump of coal in your stocking come Christmas morning.” David swoops down and plants a kiss on the top of my head, then rounds the table to Bridget’s side. They share a lingering kiss and a look so loving it makes my heart constrict. He sits beside her, casually slinging his arm around her chair, and she nestles closer to him.
For the millionth time in the last year, it strikes me what a beautiful couple they make. Bridget has been glowing since last December when David finally revealed he had feelings for her, but hadn’t acted on them because he was our boss. Bridget always tried to deny her crush on him, brushing it off by saying half the women in our office looked at David with heart eyes. I know her better than anyone, though, and it was obvious she was in love with him. Now, almost a year later, they’re so happy together. Their relationship isn’t perfect—they have ups and downs like any other couple—but they put effort into it. They’re committed to each other and to making things work.
I swallow a sigh of longing as I ponder how much I want that for myself. I try not to think about it too much because I’m afraid I’d dwell on the fact I’ll be thirty in a few months and I’ve been single for-freaking-ever. I don’t need someone to complete me or fulfill me, but that doesn’t stop me from getting lost in romantic fantasies about meeting the man of my dreams.
“Earth to Ivy,” Bridget says, leaning across the table and waving a hand near my face.
My eyes snap into focus. Bridget and David are watching me with amused smiles.
“Where’d you go?” Bridget asks.
“She was thinking about sitting on Santa’s lap after all,” David says, his lips twitching into a mischievous grin.
“That’s it,” I say, nodding as if I’m seriously contemplating what he said. “Thinking about paying him a visit after all, and wondering what I should request for Christmas.”
Too bad what I really want for Christmas is something not even Santa himself could deliver.