CHAPTER ONE

GO ELF YOURSELF

4 December 2021

"Why can't you get a real job? No one wants to date a girl who drifts from job to job and no ten year plan."

My gaze jumped up from the bowl of soggy cornflakes to my mother's face. Those smooth, line free planes were thanks to her old friend Mr Botox and a number of serums made of increasingly disturbing ingredients. Her perfectly curled honey blonde hair was about as natural as her silicone filled breasts. The over done makeup drew attention to the disappointment in her blue eyes and the slight purse of her lips. That did not bode well. When mum got something in her mind she was like a dog with a bone, snarling and all when someone tried to take it away.

"I have a real job," I said, scooping up a spoonful of cereal and shoving it in my mouth. Chewing deliberately slow, the one muscle in mum's right cheek that hadn't been paralysed ticked. I let her stew for another beat before swallowing. "Are you trying to tell me that spreading holiday cheer to the people of Hertfordshire isn't a real job? My paycheque says otherwise."

That was the thing about mum – she had been bitterly disappointed when I had chosen to go to art school instead of going to university to pursue a "real career", preferably as a lawyer like my sister Jane. I'd seen the textbooks - long, wordy, and full of Latin terms that I'm pretty sure even lawyers themselves didn't understand half the time. Jane, bless her, didn't only just have a "real" job but she also had a real boyfriend. A successful boyfriend. A boyfriend mum was convinced was a direct result of having a career with projection.

I shuddered.

"Don't be facetious Lizzy," she shook her head in dismay. "You're twenty-five and look at you."

I didn't need to. Dressed head to toe as one of Santa's helper elves, I was more than aware of how ridiculous I looked. There was no room for dignity when there was sweet, sweet holiday money on the line. I had no desire to be a starving artist either. You see, things like food and heating are just too important to me. Sure, I jingled when I walked and had to wear red and white striped tight, but I got all the tooth rotting candy canes I could ever want. Who is the real winner here?

Pouring myself a glass of warm orange juice I took a quick gulp, coughing as it went down the wrong way. After restoring my breathing, I said; "It's just for the season then I will try and find something permanent. There's a reception position I'm waiting to hear back on."

Mum didn't look impressed. Or maybe she was. It was impossible to tell when her face barely moved an inch.

"Well, if you're determined to live a life of mediocrity-"

"I prefer to think of it as a stepping stone to my artistic destiny," I interrupted.

She glared. "If you're determined to live your life this way-"

"I am."

Mum rolled her eyes. "Then you may as well put some energy into finding someone. There are plenty of good websites these days. Have you tried the Tinder?"

"It's Tinder not the Tinder," I corrected, taking another sip of my orange juice. It mercifully went down the right way this time. "And yes I have." And hated every minute of it.

In the hour of madness that compelled me to make a profile and give it a whirl I learnt a few key things. If his profile is all group photosalways swipe left, nobody has time to play the world's worst version of Where's Wally? If he opens with "ur a qt" instantly un-match, it shows he doesn't want to put in any effort and probably failed basic English. And holding up dead things? Swiping left. Every time. I'm not sure what they are going for but it gives me major serial killer vibes and I'm just not about being murdered on a date.

"Oh! You should let me find you a nice fellow on there," she said, delight in her eyes.

Cold dread ran down my spine. I didn't want to end up with some straight-laced suit who didn't know how to smile. That was exactly the type of man she would try to match me with. No thanks. I wanted full control of my non-existent love life thank you very much.

"I'm happy flying solo at the moment."

"No one is happy being single."

"I am." It was true. Mostly. "Did I tell you a gallery is interested in some of my works?" Anything to get her off the topic of my love life.

"Which pieces?" Dad asked, lowering his motoring magazine so his warm brown eyes were visible. "Better not be that Van Gough inspired one. I want that for my office."

Perking up, I scooted to the edge of my seat. "No, those Roy Lichtenstein-esque ones that I've been painting all year. The curator said they're just what they've been looking for and they want a few more pieces by May."

"That's brilliant," Dad said, returning to his magazine.

"Which ones are those oneS? Not those horrible cartoony ones?"

"Yes…" I shovelled cornflakes into my mouth. Mum didn't really like any of my art, though whether it's because she thought it was legitimately bad or if she thought I was just chasing an unrealistic dream I wasn't sure. Either way, it stung. "Those ones. The curator thought they were bold, fresh, and witty."

Mum batted that statement away with a negligent wave of her hand. "You know I just worry about you. You're just setting yourself up for failure and disappointment. It's not too late to go back to university and get a degree you can actually use, you know. You could continue to live here."

Setting his magazine to the side, dad clasped his hands together on the table. "Francis, leave the poor girl alone. I'm sure she doesn't want to live with us for another three years if she doesn't have to and it sounds like this is a good opportunity for her." Dad winked at me as he stood and went to the coffee maker.

"Oh Henry, you know I just worry about her. She's alone. Like alone alone. I'm convinced her job or lack thereof is the reason for it. That reminds me, maybe I should set up a date between her and Christian Hall."

"I'm still here you know." I finished my cereal quickly and glanced at the time. Still plenty of time before work. Unfortunately. "And please don't set up a date."

"Why not? He's such a polite boy. Easy on the eyes too and a banker."

"Just no." I got up to rinse my bowl in the sink. To be honest, the man she was talking about had American Psycho written all over him. There was something not right about him and rumour around the village was that he was the reason for the missing cats around these parts. "I'm not interested."

Rinsing the bowl out I popped it in the dishwasher. No one could get away with not rinsing dishes in the Bennet household. It was a cardinal sin. "What about the short one you work with? Jimmy?"

Dad chuckled under his breath as the coffee machine did its thing. It was one of those pod machines and I swear they treated it like their baby. They loved the thing even though what it produced definitely wasn't real coffee. Not that I would know. Even the smell of it made me queasy. Give me a nice, steaming mug of tea and I will be your best friend forever.

"Billy and a thousand times no." Billy was the reason the skirt of my uniform was a bit too far north of the knee and extremely tight fitting across the chest. He was the elf in charge and had an unfortunate obsession with Mariah Carey. There were only so many times one could listen to All I Want for Christmas before you wanted to javelin a giant candy cane into the speaker system.

Mum rolled her eyes. "I'm expecting you to bring a date to my annual Christmas party. If you can't find someone in time Aunty Emily and I will find someone just for you. It will be perfect – she works with a lot of men you know."

I blanched.

The last man she and Emily had set me up with was the exact opposite of what I was looking for in a life partner. Oh, I didn't especially have high hopes. When Brent had showed up to the restaurant looking on the wrong side of forty with a stained shirt, I should have just gotten up and left. I don't know why I stuck it out. Maybe I really was alone and any human connection was better than no connection at all. He had spent most of the evening checking out the waitress and the other half making vaguely misogynistic jokes. It was an unmitigated disaster.

When he'd straight out asked me if I wanted to go back to his hotel room and get our freak on I'd been caught completely off guard. Suddenly his garlicky tongue was down my throat and only insistently tapping on his arm got him off me. His cologne was nauseating, a cheap smell straight out of a pharmacy, and his big paws had found their way to my ass. Nope. I backed out as fast as I could, telling him that it was me and not him, even though it was very much him. He'd told me that I needed to loosen up and let a real man go to town on me. What is a "real man" anyways? It's a phrase I hear all the time yet don't really understand the meaning of. Is it just something small people say to gain some control? Or is there some definition of man I was missing? Either way,I didn't want what Brent was selling.

And now she wanted to find me someone for the Christmas party. Yikes. No thanks.

Walking over to the table, I gathered my purse from where I left it hanging on the back of the seat. "I need to go."

I would be twenty minutes early. That didn't matter, I could fill the time with at least a chapter of a book. I just needed to get out of there in case mum decided to browbeat me until I finally gave in.

"Go on Kiddo," dad said, coming over to give me a one-armed hug. "Don't yell at any parents today and stay safe on the roads, they were a bit icy when I went for milk this morning."

I hugged him back. Dad always made a point to hug each of his children when they left the house, doling out a little bit of safety advice. There was a comforting familiarity about it. It always felt wrong if I left the house without one, likea niggling at the back of the mind.

"You should be encouraging her to get a real job, Henry," mum said before switching her attention to me with a maternal sigh. "Make sure to flirt with all the single men at the grotto. They might be parents but beggars can't be choosers."

"I wish I had to go to work too," dad muttered into my ear.

I stifled a giggle as I stepped away from him. Mum didn't offer a hug; she wasn't the hugging type which I was forever thankful for as I'm pretty sure she bathed in Chanel No. 5. The cloying scent could be smelled in every nook of the house. At least it made it easy when we lost each other at the store. All I had to do was become a bloodhound and follow the scent.

"I'll see you tonight. Love you!"

I waved at my parents before leaving the house and hopping into my beat-up Corolla. Wonderful Christmastime came on the radio as I drove to the Christmas village set up just outside of Meryton. Driving through the giant crossed candy canes that marked the entrance, I quickly found a park in the staff parking. Pulling out my book I settled in for a few blissful minutes of uninterrupted reading – something I very rarely got at home.

The hero and heroine were about to kiss. Every moment in the book had been leading up to this moment. Through their ups and downs I was right there with them. I was invested. They simply needed to kiss. My heartbeat sped up as he looked into her eyes and leaned in…

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I jumped. Marking my place in the book I glanced to my window to see Billy's oily face. I wound down the window, shivering slightly at the blast of cool air, and wanted to tell him that my shift didn't start for another ten minutes and I'll be damned if I didn't get tosee the lover's kiss.

Instead I said, "Hey Billy, what's up?"

"Busy day today. Could really use your help over at the gift-wrapping booth today."

There was nothing worse than the gift-wrapping booth. Every sane person bought all those weird shape items that are impossible to wrap and expected us to do it for peanuts. I must have annoyed Billy somehow. He always let me work the photography station, probably because he liked it when I bent over.

"Are you sure you don't need me on photography today?"

"No can do," he said, sliding a hand through his thinning hair. "I'm training up one of the juniors on it today."

I felt sorry for the poor soul. When Billy had "trained" me he had stood so his package was right up against my ass as he heavy breathed into my ear. It was not a fun time. Even with creepy Billy it was the best place to be allocated. The grotto was indoors and heated, everything else was outside and believe me when I say the flimsy tights did little against the biting cold.

"Right, well, good luck with that," I said, desperate to get back to my book. I looked down at the page ready to start again.

"It takes a few minutes to walk over there and you wouldn't want to be late would you?"

Damn it.

Closing the book, I shoved it in my purse. "Good thinking boss." I forced a smile and stepped out of the car. If I didn't need this job I would have told him to go elf himself. He smiled smugly and went on his way. Locking the car, I threw the keys into my purse and set off towards the dreaded gift-wrapping booth.

Walking down Peppermint Lane I passed various artisan stalls manned by people dressed as I was. Ever want to see an elf with no dignity and a dead look in their eye? All you need to do is head down to the Meryton Christmas Village. Fake snow had been scattered all around, cheery snowmen waved and smiled, and the air was full of Mariah's cringe-inducing whistle tones.

The gift-wrapping booth was at the centre of the village and required a coin donation. It was designed to look like a gingerbread house. Rows of wrapping paper took up the back of the booth with all the trimmings in a draw at the front. A weary looking Marianne smiled gratefully at me as I came to relieve her. She'd had the dreaded early morning shift, full of people hopped up on too much caffeine to endure their screaming kids.

I took my place and wished I was anywhere else in the world.

A beach in Hawaii. The outback of Australia. Just somewhere warm.

The day passed in an endless stream of gifts. Red, gold, silver… I never wanted to see those colours ever again. Then came the trimmings. Some were content with wrapping alone, others wanted the whole nine yards. Silk ribbon, curling ribbon, twine. Why were there so many options?

Socks, novelty t-shirts, and enough chocolate to put anyone into a diabetic coma, the customers were extremely uninspired. There were a few of those strange as seen on TV gadgets that never worked as advertised. I felt sorry for the poor in-laws that would be receiving an egg peeler. A man had plopped a mop on the counter mentioning it was for his wife who "loved" cleaning.

Not wanting to touch that, I shrugged and set about wrapping it in the hideous candy cane paper he'd chosen. There is no way to wrap a mop without it being obvious what it is but mop guy didn't seem to mind that too much. He was just eager for me to finish, tapping his foot insistently against the gravel and constantly checking his phone. He barely grunted out a "thank you" when I handed back the gift with a cheery smile and a "happy holidays".

There was just no pleasing some people.

"Oh Lizzy, I thought that was you. I wasn't sure since you're usually chumming it with Santa."

I looked up and met Charlotte Lu's bright smile. Best friend, part time author, full time Goddess. Her long black hair was gathered in a messy bun atop her head, her cheeks bright red from the cold. Dressed in a long black coat she looked so warm while I could barely feel my fingers. I itched to reach out and steal it from her.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my breath visible in the air. "I thought you avoided this place like the plague."

"I had to pick up a last minute gift for Aunty Mai." She extracted a thick book from her bag and waved it at me. Crafting with Cat Hair: Cute Handicrafts to Make with Your Cat. Did that mean the cat was involved in the crafting or that the craft was made out of the cat?. "I have to stop in at her potluck."

Scrunching my brow, I set my scissors to the side. "I have questions. The first being, why would your aunt want to make handicrafts with her cat?"

"She's the craziest cat lady I know. She has something like ten cats and pampers them all like they are her children. Eddie swears that he once heard her say that she loves the cats more than him."

"I've met your cousin," I laughed. "He isn't exactly kicking goals in life." Not that I was one to talk.

"You're coming tonight right?"

"To your aunt's potluck? No thanks." Glancing at my phone I frowned. It was nearly five and I still hadn't been relieved for the evening shift.

"No, the Gibson's. You were invited, right? You're invited to everything." Ah. The Gibson's annual Christmas party that they swore was just a little get together and suddenly were dozens of heaving bodies dancing terribly in the living room.

"I'll be there." I spotted Lucy, my relief, in the distance bat one of the nutcrackers on the shoulder with a laugh. "With bells on."

Charlotte placed the book on the counter. "Can you please wrap this? I would but you know it would just look like a car crash and I don't need another reason for Mai to hate me."

I took it with what I hoped was a consoling smile. "Any preferences for the wrap?"

"Do you have anything blue? Her theme this year is red and gold and it will annoy her to receive a gift wrapped in the wrong wrapping."

Oh, that was positively evil. I crouched down and dug in the cabinet beneath the industrial sized rolls of wrapping paper. There was some hideous blue snowman paper in there somewhere, I just knew it.

Hiding in the back behind some plaid and spools of curling ribbon there it was. Slightly yellowed from age but still as ugly as I had remembered upon discovering it for the first time nearly a decade ago.

"Will this do?" I asked, holding up the monstrosity. The snowmen were too long, too happy, too everything. There was something uncanny valley about their smiling faces. Whoever had approved the design should have been fired. It was that bad.

Her dark eyes gleamed with devilish delight. "Perfect. She's going to hate it. That will teach her for only ever making Brussel sprouts. No one likes them."

I liked them, not that I was going to say so.

"Mum is on the job thing again," I said as I stood back up. "I told her about Tilney's but she still thinks I'm just setting myself up for failure."

"Trust me when I say I get it. My parents are still on me about my writing career. Apparently writing for children is easy and that any idiot with an idea could do it. Let me tell you it's freaking hard. Thank you for agreeing to do the illustrations by the way, I know it's a lot."

"I got you," I said, deftly wrapping the book. Wrapping a cheery bow around it, I handed it back to her with a flourish. "Here you go."

Charlotte took it with a smile and tucked it into her bag. "You're the best. I'll see you tonight!"

"See you tonight," I replied with a two-finger salute as she turned to walk away.

As soon as she left, I set about tidying up for Lucy who was still too busy with the nutcracker to care about relieving me. Finally finishing with her latest love, she came over to the booth with a satisfied smile and an apology.

Leaving her to it, I went back to my car and drove home. The Gibson's weren't known to do anything by half measures. Every year they threw increasingly elaborate parties and I was absolutely living for it. Not when I was finally going to meet Jane's new boyfriend. The poor guy didn't know what he was in for.


A/N: After this dumpster fire year, I thought I would share some little holiday cheer that helped me keep my sanity. This is cross posted on AO3.