“Yeah well, we don’t have a Santa.”
I blinked at her. The room sort of fuzzed out of focus and a soundtrack of waves and screams crashed in my head. “I’m sorry?”
“No—capital N, capital O—there is no Santa in the building.”
“But Jason said he was going to be here.” It was a two-fer. I was going to make sure we had a super sweet, super jolly Santa for the party and maybe let Jason ask me out one more time.
I was pretty sure I was going to say yes.
Sort of.
Maybe.
I slumped into the black leather U-shaped chair across from the massive mahogany desk. The simple glass name plaque said Lincoln Murdock, CEO. I focused in on the name. The same man who had sent me the terse email four weeks ago.
The email that had changed my life.
I’d worked with his assistant after that email, but I’d never forgotten the name. Especially after a little research had me kicking up my heels yabba-dabba-doo-style.
My tunnel vision slowly widened and Mel’s babbling came into focus.
I held up my hand. Mel pressed her cherry red lips together, the bow at the top of her lips becoming more pronounced as she tried to contain her crazy. It was difficult, I knew. “What happened to Jason?”
“I just told you.” She gave an exasperated growl.
“I’m sorry. I went deaf and dumb there for a moment, because I’m sure you couldn’t have said my most reliable Santa was not showing up for the last freaking party of the year. You know, two days before Christmas. And the party where I’m paying said Santa double time.” Because we’d had two parties a day for most of the week. I pushed a shaky hand through my hair. “So please tell me why he’s not here?”
“He eloped with the elf, Michelle.”
“He what?” He’d asked me out three days ago.
“It was a whirlwind or some such nonsense. They’d done six parties together and lightning struck or something stupid. I get lust—but eloping? What is wrong with people?”
“They couldn’t elope tomorrow?”
“It was more romantic to get married on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s tomorrow.” I jammed my knuckle into my mouth to stop the insanity-tinged howl. I could feel it coming from somewhere south of my toes. Maybe the hell that was my life.
It was Christmas, goddammit. Where was their Christmas spirit?
“Evidently, they were going for a beachy wedding on Christmas Eve thing in Hawaii.”
And here I was worried I was underpaying my people. I certainly couldn’t afford to go to Hawaii. I could get away with a pamphlet and time-share lecture maybe.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t want to go to Hawaii. I wanted my freaking Santa here at my last party of the year.
Not just any party. Murdock Home Stores, the largest department store in New York City besides Macy’s, had hired me to do their Christmas party this year. This would put my party planning company Kandy Kane Dreams on the map. Nothing could screw this up.
We’d been squeaking out each month by the skin of my teeth—and savings account—for months to get to November. The Christmas season usually put me and my people in the black for at least four months. This party had guaranteed the better part of the next year.
But not if I didn’t have a Santa for the forty-plus children who would be descending on the party in a little less than an hour. I’d be ruined faster than I’d made it.
Okay. I could make this work.
I had no choice.
Blowing my bangs out of my eyes, I sighed. “Wait, does this mean I don’t have an elf either?”