“Just give her a gift card, that always shuts them up,” I typed back. Yeah, I should have gone and took care of business, but this unfolding disaster at Hazel's Curiosities was like a bad car wreck on the highway – impossible to take my eyes off of even if I wanted to.
As I watched Sarah run about like a headless chicken, though, I sincerely felt bad for her. I couldn't just stand by the side and do nothing.
“We are so hosed,” she moaned. “We'll be the laughingstock of Grant City. This epic failure will be all over the news until the new year.”
“At least we'd finally be getting some publicity, right?”
“Hey, look!” A girl's shrill voice rang out over the others. “There he is. That's Santa Claus!”
Indeed, it was – if Santa drove a trashy Subaru with a garbage bag taped where a window should have been. The busted headlights and crumpled fender said maybe he'd hit a couple of reindeer on the way here.
The guy got out. Well, no, stumbled was really more like it. He wore a disheveled red suit that had been stained by goodness knows what. His fake beard was on crooked, revealing most of his face and bloodshot, tired eyes. In his hand he had a mug of what I knew, from the smell, was definitely not coffee.
“Screwed,” said Sarah as he forced himself through the line of screaming kids. “Like I said.”
Lana was more cheerful. “Could be this is all just a good joke, huh? Maybe we're on one of those candid camera TV shows and you don't even know it. They usually give you a reward for playing along.”
I patted her on the back. “You know what, Lana? I really do admire your optimism. If Hazel's Curiosities goes bust, you're welcome to come work for me anytime.”
“Goddamn it, Asher!”
Sarah was pissed all over again, but how could I help it? She was just too freaking cute not to pick on every now and then.
Although that look of unbridled fury she was giving me said I should probably tread carefully for now.
“Ho, ho, hiccup.” Santa waved to the kiddies as he shambled through the front door. “Hope ya got your lists ready 'cause Mr. Claus is a busy man.”
The door shut behind him, and the little shop filled with the odor of high-proof alcohol. I peered over his shoulder into the travel mug he held. Hmm, Starbucks blended with a fifth of rum. Lovely choice for a beverage before noon.
“Thank goodness,” Sarah said, hurrying to greet him. Then she wrinkled her nose and looked the guy over. “Ah, are you all ready to start? The children are getting a bit... antsy.”
A big ball of snow hit the store window with a thump. A few of the youngsters had broken away from the pack and, out of boredom, were now having a snowball fight despite their pleading mothers.
Santa didn't answer her. He took a few steps more toward the chair she'd prepared, chugging deeply from the mug as he went. His knees wobbled, and he let out a resounding belch.
“Oh my God,” whispered Lana. “Is he okay?”
The reality of it finally struck Sarah. She looked on in horror as the man swayed to and fro, badly singing some Christmas tune to himself.
“I think your Santa is a bit impaired, so to speak,” I said to Sarah.
“He can't see kids like this.” She covered her face with her hands. “No, this can't be happening. Everything was supposed to be perfect. We worked so hard on this.”
“Ya better watch out... Hiccup!” He twirled about, splashing his booze on the floor. “Ya better not cry... 'Cause Santa is gonna beat your ass if you do...”
It would have been hilarious if not for Sarah's distress. Finally, just when I thought she was going to scream for once in her life, Santa lurched forward, gurgled, and fell face-first into a display of fake presents.
Lana tried desperately to block the windows so people didn't see, while Sarah dashed over to check on the unmoving man.
“Is he dead? Oh crap, I don't think we have the insurance for this kind of thing!”
The dude was still breathing, at least. Sarah shook him; he didn't budge. Then she kicked him. Still nothing.
“Asher, what am I going to do?” She looked up at me. “We can't just leave him here. Can you move him out of the way, do you think?”
Last thing I wanted was to involve myself in this drama. Before we'd planned this fraud of a wedding, before I had her in my arms and snuggled with her in my bed, I'd have found an excuse and bolted out of there pronto.
“They're paging me to get back to work,” I started to say, but the panic in her pretty eyes won me over. “Ah, well, I guess I can spare a few more minutes to help. Where are we moving this guy?”
“The storeroom will work,” Lana said, holding the door for me. “You think you can lift him by yourself, or should I fetch the cart?”
He must have weighed three hundred pounds, and I'd not been to the gym in a while. Time to see if I still got it.
I grabbed the man's limp arm and pulled. It wasn't easy going, but I managed to drag him along the floor to the storeroom.
Sarah had gone outside to distract the irritated crowd. She offered the kids hot cocoa, a bad idea because the last thing those brats needed was more sugar.
“This isn't looking good,” Lana admitted now that Sarah was out of earshot. “Poor Sarah worked her butt off planning this thing. She's not like you and Slicker Image, you know, with an entire marketing department and a million-dollar budget. She set this up all
