“I wasn’t sure what to expect, if I’m honest.” When he gave me an inquiring glance, I shrugged. “Don’t they say life begins at forty?”
“They do. Personally, I think it’s just another number. They tend to blur after a while.”
I cocked my head to one side. “Can you even remember being forty?”
He stared into his glass. “Yes, thanks to one of the things I sometimes curse about my existence—my crystal-clear memory.”
Dear God. “That’s a lot of memories to carry around.”
“A lot of other things too—regrets, hopes…”
My chest tightened. “What did you hope for when you were my age?” I rubbed my head. “Because I’d hoped I’d have more hair than this.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His eyes twinkled. “I like it. And you still have your beard.”
“Yes, but there’s more gray in it. I was thinking of coloring it.”
Santa’s breathing caught. “Don’t you dare.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected such a vehement objection.He likes the gray?He carried on drinking as though his reaction was perfectly normal.
“I believe I asked you a question.”
He nursed his glass in both hands. “I guess I hoped I’d be happy. In love.”
If he wasn’t going to be more forthcoming, I’d have to make the first move.
“Can I ask… How did this happen? I mean, becoming Santa Claus? I’m pretty sure you weren’t born Santa Claus.”
“No, no I wasn’t. But…” He swallowed. “I can’t talk about that. There are rules.”
“Seriously?” He nodded. “Who makes them?”
“I can’t talk about that either.”
“Are there rules about taking guys for a sleigh ride?” He coughed, and I gave a knowing nod. “I see. You bent one of those rules, didn’t you?”
Santa waved a hand. “It was fine. We stayed in this realm.”
Things had just gotten interesting.
“Then there’s another?”
He nodded again. “Yes, that’s where I exist, the other three hundred sixty-four days.”
There was no way I couldn’t have asked. “What’s it like?”
He rested his head against the seat cushion. “Time stands still there. Which can be awesome—or scary.”
I cleared my throat. “I know you don’t ever talk about this, but… tell me you’re not alone in that other realm. Tell me you have someone.”
“I’m not alone,” he assured me. “And yes, I have"workers”’.” He hooked his fingers. “But they’re not elves.” He fell silent.
“You’re not going to tell me what they are,” I declared.
“No. Rules, remember?”
“But you didn’t answer my question. Not being alone is not the same as having someone in your life.”