Take a Look Inside All I Want for Christmas

“What do you mean my villa was double-booked?” I stare at the woman behind the front desk and try my best to keep my voice calm.

She shifts her weight from left to right, ever so slightly, and her reindeer earrings jingle from the movement. She’s round and rosy-cheeked, maybe in her mid-forties, and her thick black curls are pulled back into a red holiday scrunchie. She’s dressed like an elf, minus the fake ears, with red tights, a green velvet tunic trimmed in gold, and a candy-cane-striped belt cinched tightly around her middle. I know it’s the middle of December, but this woman looks like she popped out of the North Pole itself.

The real estate office, that I was forced to find when I never received a door code to the villa I booked, smells like peppermint and copier ink, and looks like it hasn’t been remodeled since shoulder pads were in style. But someone has tried to make it festive by adding a plastic poinsettia beside the trash can and a string of blinking multicolored lights along the counter’s edge.

“There seems to have been a glitch in the system.” Brenda, whose name tag is just as delightful as she is, frantically taps at her ipad. “And the other guests have already checked in, but don’t worry, Dear, I’m sure we have...something.” She trails off as her smile falters.

My stomach churns at the expression on Brenda’s face, because I know that look. It’s the same one my mother gives Father when something has gone awry in the toy shop. The panicked, how do I tell him the bad news, look that she seems to wear daily once December first arrives. The very same look she’s probably making right now as she tells him, Santa’s head elf, that the future Mrs. Claus has run away two weeks before Christmas.

The unmistakable look on Brenda’s face mixed with every stress-filled moment I’ve run away from hits too hard, and I’m unintentionally grumpy when I practically growl, “What?”

“Oh, nothing for you to worry about.” She folds the tablet’s cover over, hiding the screen and hugs the device to her chest—another bad sign. “Just give me thirty minutes and I’ll have you squared away. Why don’t you have some cocoa while you wait?”

“Cocoa? Are you insane? It’s, like, ninety degrees out,” I snap. I almost feel bad for how I’m talking to her, but if this woman knew that I stole Christmas Magic to shimmer across the world to be here, she might understand why I’m a little high-strung.

Brenda’s smile tightens. “You are absolutely right. Which is why our slush machine makes frozen cocoa.” She gestures toward a festively decorated drink station. “There are candy canes, straws, and mini snowflake marshmallows on the counter. The fridge underneath has whipped cream, and we even have cocoa powder, too, if you want to make your cup pretty and tasty. Help yourself to whatever you’d like. I’ll be right back.”

Brenda disappears into the back office and closes the door. I watch through the frosted glass as she frantically dials someone, waving her hands in the air like the fate of the world depends on this phone call.

I drag my suitcases to the side of the room and wander over to the cocoa bar. I’ve had enough hot chocolate to last me two lifetimes. I could probably survive another hundred years without another cup. But peppermint and candy canes? That’s a different story. There’s something comforting about them, something steady and sweet. I grab a peppermint stick out of the cup and remove the plastic wrapping. I suck on it, letting the crisp candy soothe my nerves, and stare out the window at what Winter Key calls downtown.

It’s a single street with Edison bulbs strung from rooftop to rooftop, making a canopy of lights stretching the span of storefronts…this one included. Across the street there is Last Call, a bar that looks to double as a cafe during the day. How do I know? The Chalkboard sign out front has the day’s special, green eggs and ham with hash potatoes, and the night’s special, Grinch beer. Which both, in my opinion, sound horrible. 

Beside Last Call is Hopkin’s Pharmacy, and a boutique called Mermaid Tales. This side of the strip is even more uneventful. I think I saw a trinket shop, a vacant shop, and a mini-market on my way in. That’s it.

From what I can tell, the rest of the town is only a few streets wide and mostly homes. It’s secluded. Quiet. And most importantly, thousands of miles away from snow. Exactly what I need to detox and figure out what I’m going to do about my Santa Claus problem. In a perfect world, I would have found a place that was anti-Christmas, but this is where the Christmas Magic in my ring took me.

So… Here I am.

Brenda whips the office door open and strides into the room like a woman who’s just had the best orgasm of her life—glistening with sweat, a little flushed, and grinning from ear to ear. “Problem solved, and it didn’t even take a Christmas Miracle.”

If we need a Christmas Miracle to find me a place to sleep, Winter Key might be in worse shape than it looks. “You found me a villa?”

“Not exactly,” she says, running her hands over the front of her tunic. “But I did secure you a room in a very private…er…bungalow.”

“A room? I don’t think so.” I twist the ring on my thumb and look at how much gold is left glistening in the swirly engraving. 

I used a little more than a quarter of the dust shimmering across the world to be here. I only have enough Magic left for one trip home and a few, small emergencies… maybe.

It crosses my mind to try to shimmer somewhere else, but Magic has a will of its own. I wished to escape the North Pole and this is where it took me. I would have preferred a beachside hotel with a pool and sexy cabana man, but the Magic popped me in front of a bait shop. A closed bait shop, I might add. The only perk was that it had a bulletin board on the side wall with business cards, one of which was for Heartwarming Realty and information about their Villa rentals.

“I think you’ll love it,” Brenda insists. She sets her tablet on the desk and opens a desk drawer for her keys and purse. “It’s right on the water, so you’ll have a dock to sunbathe on, and here’s the best part: it’s completely free. We feel awful about the mix-up, and all we want to do is make it right. Mason, the guy who owns the bungalow, is such a sweetheart. He normally never rents out his spare room, but he’s making an exception for you.”

“You said it’s free?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. Free is good. I only have a thousand dollars to last me until I go home. The more I can stretch it, the longer I can delay the inevitable—ruining my life or ruining Christmas for the whole world.

No pressure. Right?

Brenda nods enthusiastically, and her ignorant glee grates on my nerves. It’s not her fault she reminds me of half the elves in the North Pole, or that she looks like she’s auditioning to play one of Santa’s helpers at the mall. She’s just excited for Christmas as she should be. While I lost my Christmas spirit a long time ago.

I blow my long white bangs out of my face and sigh. “Fine. I guess I’ll give it a shot. Tell me where it is and I’ll check it out.”

Brenda gasps and her hand rushes to her chest. “Oh, no! Absolutely not, my dear. I’ll take you.”

I hold my smile, though I think my right eye might have twitched. “Really, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

“I insist.” Brenda loops around the counter and grabs my suitcases. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, Mason’s place is a little off the beaten path, if you know what I mean.”

I don’t. This whole town feels off the beaten path to me, but I get the feeling that arguing with her will be more frustrating than it’s worth. The sooner we get to Mason’s house, the sooner I can decompress and try to forget Brenda and everything Christmas-related. So, I follow her out the back door to a little red Honda Civic that has…drumroll please…antlers sticking out the windows and a big red nose on the hood.

Rudolph would be embarrassed if he could see this likeness of himself.

Brenda lifts my red and green suitcases into her trunk and chuckles softly. I try to ignore whatever merry little thought is running through her mind, but as soon as she’s settled in the driver’s seat, she says, “I love how your luggage matches your hair. Is the white blonde natural?”

I click my seatbelt in place, refusing to look at her. “Unfortunately.”

So are my red and green ends, but explaining how my hair grows like this would likely put me in an insane asylum. People love to fantasize about Magic. They want to read about it and watch renditions of what the world has to offer on their screens, but when real Magic stares them in the face, people can’t believe what they see. It’s partly why Santa’s sleigh has never been seen flying through the sky. Too many non-believers would ruin the wonder of it all.

“Well,” She looks over her shoulder as she backs out of her space. “You look ready for Christmas!”

This time, I glare at her. I don’t want to talk about Christmas, be it in relation to me, my family, or the actual holiday. Hopefully, she’ll catch the hint. “I’m not.”

Brenda hesitates a second longer than necessary at the stop sign and blinks at me, surprised. “Oh, golly. Christmas is my favorite holiday. I just….” She pauses. “I can’t imagine…” She bites her bottom lip. “Um, I noticed you’re checking out on the twenty-third. Are you planning to spend the holidays with your family?”

“Not if I can help it.”