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    Mrs. Saint Nick: A Christmas Central Romantic Comedy, #2
    Mrs. Saint Nick: A Christmas Central Romantic Comedy, #2
    Mrs. Saint Nick: A Christmas Central Romantic Comedy, #2
    Ebook125 pages2 hours

    Mrs. Saint Nick: A Christmas Central Romantic Comedy, #2

    By Caroline Mickelson

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    About this ebook

    When Santa offers efficiency expert Holly Jamison a job at the North Pole, she's delighted to accept. It's not that she loves the Christmas holidays. Far from it. Everywhere she looks, from the piles of presents to the thousands of cheery elves hard at work, Holly sees ways to improve the whole operation. Even Nick Claus, Santa's charming son, fails to draw Holly into the holiday spirit. Holly has to admit that Nick's charismatic and handsome, but his fun-loving side doesn't mask his lack of a work ethic. It's only when Holly cancels Nick's pet project, and jeopardizes Christmas for thousands of children, that she realizes that the man she discounts as a total slacker might be the only one who can teach her about the joy of Christmas.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBon Accord Press
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    ISBN9780985129682
    Mrs. Saint Nick: A Christmas Central Romantic Comedy, #2

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      Book preview

      Mrs. Saint Nick - Caroline Mickelson

      1

      I can save Christmas this year, Mr. Claus. Efficiency expert Holly Jamison pulled a resume from her briefcase and reached across the massive oak desk to place it in front of Santa. She sat back, folded her hands in her lap and tried not to look as anxious as she felt. She wanted this job. Correction. She desperately wanted this job.

      Save may be a bit of an overstatement, Miss Jamison. Santa smiled genially, kindness evident in his blue eyes. With my daughter Carol away for the holidays I could really use an efficient, level-headed right hand during this last week before the big day.

      As you can clearly see, Mr. Claus, I have extensive experience with hectic pre-holiday schedules and-

      Santa raised a white gloved hand. Yes, Miss Jamison, I can see that you spent close to five years working as Mr. Sand Man’s chief assistant. He peered over his gold wire rimmed glasses at her. Although I’m not quite certain that we can compare the frantic energy of the North Pole the week before Christmas to nightly bedtime, can we?

      Holly met his gaze straight on. She couldn’t quite read his expression but she could hear the doubt in his voice. She took a deep breath and launched into her well-rehearsed sales pitch. Oh, you’d be surprised, Mr. Claus. At Nighty Night Central we deal with the same number of children that you do, actually even more because not every child celebrates Christmas.

      Santa’s eyebrows rose. Holly’s heart sank. Perhaps she could have left that last bit unsaid. We saw massive spikes in the number of restless children before every holiday, especially Christmas. Also consider the impact of birthdays, which occur every single day of the year. Nothing, short of Christmas of course, she hastened to add, keeps a child wide awake like having a birthday the next day.

      Santa nodded thoughtfully. You have a valid point there. He glanced over her resume again before tossing it on his desk. He sat back in his chair and eyed her thoughtfully. Without Carol here I need someone who can jump right into the madness. Your references are impeccable, Miss Jamison, and your prior job performance is impressive. But what I really need to know isn’t about numbers or systems but how do you feel about Christmas?

      There it was, the question Holly had been dreading. How do I feel about Christmas? she repeated as if she hadn’t practiced answering the question a dozen times already. Well, I think Christmas is simply splendid, a lovely time of the year. Once the words were out of her mouth, Holly resisted the urge to slap herself on the forehead. What a boneheaded answer. Simply Splendid. A lovely time of the year. Ugh.

      Judging by his expression, Santa didn’t appear especially enamored of her answer either. He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. Miss Jamison, might I remind you that I have the ability to tell when someone is being nice and when they are being naughty? This also gives me the opportunity to discern the truth from a fib, shall we call it?

      Santa sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly. A heavy silence descended. Holly’s mind raced for the right words to string together that might get her off the hook but none came. Fine. The truth it would have to be.

      I feel that Christmas is necessary.

      Necessary? Santa echoed.

      She nodded. Yes, necessary. I think the word sums it up perfectly. It’s how my mother felt about the holidays.

      Santa waved a gloved hand, indicating she should continue speaking. Tell me more.

      My mother raised me by herself. My father left her when I was two years old, on Christmas Day incidentally. Holly took a deep breath to steady her nerves. This job interview was rapidly beginning to feel like a visit to a therapist’s office. It wasn’t going at all how she’d rehearsed, but what could she do? Get up and walk out? No. Not without fighting for this job. More? Okay. Christmas, for my mother, was a way to mark the end of one sad year and the beginning of yet another.

      Oh, dear, Santa shook his head. This isn’t good.

      Not for me, no, Holly agreed. Each year, starting the day after Thanksgiving, Mother would begin a month of frenzied activity and she’d drag me along with her. We would knit sweaters and socks for the troops overseas, help organize the nativity pageant at not one, but two different churches, and Mother would volunteer to help school children write their letters to Santa. I mean to you, that is.

      All very admirable, Santa said.

      Yes, of course, Holly reluctantly agreed. But it was like a mad blur, Mr. Claus. The shopping, the cookies, volunteering at the soup kitchen, buying and wrapping presents for needy children…it just didn’t stop. It was exhausting. Draining. She leaned forward and rested her hands on Santa’s desk. And do you know what the worst part was, Mr. Claus?

      He leaned forward and shook his head. Tell me.

      Christmas Eve night, Holly said. After serving a mid-day meal to the homeless, we’d go to early church services and then go caroling at a senior citizen center. All very admirable, as you put it.

      But? Santa prompted her.

      Holly sighed and sat back in her chair. But we weren’t doing it for the right reasons. My mother was miserable. She’d be on the verge of tears all day. Then once she was in her room at night she’d sob her heart out.

      You heard her?

      Holly nodded. Every year. I’d sneak out onto the landing between our rooms and I’d listen outside her door. She’d cry as if her heart were shattering into a million pieces.

      A million pieces? Oh, that’s not good. Santa dropped his face into his hands for a long moment before he slapped his hands on the desk and stood. I cannot apologize enough, Miss Jamison, that I didn’t do more to help make Christmas a happier time for you and your mother. He began to pace his wood paneled office. Christmas is about joy and happiness, it’s not something to be merely endured.

      Holly stood. This wasn’t going at all the way she wanted it to when she arrived for her interview. She needed to regain control of the situation. Mr. Claus, what I just shared with you was very beside the point. She rushed on when she saw him about to interrupt. When I heard that you were looking for an assistant for the week before Christmas I knew I had to apply. I have no emotional attachment to anything Christmas related. It’s all about running an efficient operation with strict adherence to system compliance. I’d be perfect for the job.

      Santa stopped pacing. He stroked his beard and gazed thoughtfully at her. Yes, perhaps you might be at that.

      Holly held her breath. She was so close to getting hired she could feel it.

      The job is yours, Miss Jamison, if you’d like it, Santa said. However, there is one more thing you should consider before you give me your answer.

      Holly exhaled. She didn’t care what the one last thing was. She was taking the job. But good manners dictated she appear interested in the fine print. What might that be, Mr. Claus?

      If you are hired on, you’d be working directly with my son Nicholas. Santa grinned. Nick is a wonderful boy and I couldn’t ask for a better son. He carries the true meaning of Christmas in his heart year round. It’s just that…well, he doesn’t quite have the penchant for organizational skills that you appear to have.

      Ah, so the son was a dead beat. Holly wasn’t bothered by this little bomb shell. Nicholas Claus could just sit in a corner with a coloring book for all she cared as long as she was allowed to carry on with her work. I don’t see that as an issue, Mr. Claus. I’m sure we will be able to work together with no problems. Holly smiled. She couldn’t help it. She’d done it, she’d gotten the job.

      Santa clapped his hands in delight. Splendid. Welcome to Christmas. He picked up a clipboard from his desk and opened the door to his outer office. Follow me, Miss Jamison, and I’ll show you around the busiest place on earth.

      She looks like trouble if you ask me.

      Nick Claus tore his gaze away from the flat panel screen and swiveled around in his chair to face his companion, Rapz the elf. I have to agree with you Rapz, she does.

      I mean, did you see her? Rapz demanded, knowing full well that Nick had just watched the same job interview via Santa Cam that he had. She thinks she’s here to save Christmas. Bah.

      Nick pointed the remote control at the screen and clicked the off button just as Santa ushered Christmas Central’s newest hire out of his office. He settled back into his recliner. Let her think what she wants. So long as she doesn’t get in the way of my project, I don’t care who she is or what she does.

      Rapz raised an eyebrow. Uh, right. Sure. Totally believing that one, Saint Nick.

      Nick grinned. "Are

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