Page 14 of No Room in the Inn

Sarah blinks once. Twice. “What?”

I nod. “I know. It was weird,” I say, hoisting Flora up and onto my shoulders so she can see the parade better. “One second he was being obnoxious, and the next I saw his face and was getting ready to have my mail permanently forwarded to the North Pole. It was weird, Sarah. He looked like that guy from Grey’s Anatomy. Jackson Avery.”

Sarah holds up one hand to stop me, looking totally confused. “I need more context here.”

“So I went to put on this dress, right?” I say, gesturing with one hand at the monstrosity now fitted to me like a second skin.

“Right.”

I hold off speaking for a second as the next float passes directly in front of us; this one must be the high school’s, because there are a bunch of teenagers in band uniforms playing Winter Wonderland. Bless their frozen little hearts; it iscoldout here, and they have to sit up there and play for the full length of Main and Center.

The high school float passes slowly and gives way to the much quieter float belonging to the church youth group, so I continue my story. “So I went in the dressing room because I couldn’t see any bathrooms, and I needed to hurry.”

Sarah nods, rubbing her hands together. “Okay, I’m following so far.” She blows hot air into her hands and looks at me expectantly.

“I got halfway in the dress before getting stuck. My arm was all wonky in one sleeve and my earring was snagged on the inside of the turtleneck.”

Sarah winces. “Sorry,” she says.

“It’s not entirely your fault,” I say. “Definitelypartlyyour fault, though, since you were the one who convinced me to wear this.”

She nods. “Fair enough. Go on.”

“So I’m stuck in this dress, no doubt looking like a chicken with its head cut off—”

“Chicken!” Flora says, her little voice floating over my head.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sarah says, smiling up at Flora. Sarah points to her chin. “Chin!” Then Sarah looks at me. “That’s how she pronounces ‘chin’—‘chicken.’”

“Well, that’s adorable,” I say, giving Flora’s legs a little squeeze.

“My child is the cutest,” Sarah agrees. “Now go on. You were stuck in the dress.”

“Right,” I say. “So I’m stuck, and then I hear the dressing room door open—”

“Oh, no,” Sarah says, her eyes widening.

“Oh, yes,” I say with a nod. “And then there was this man’s voice, and he offered to help me, but I said no, so he left, but then it turned out he was still waiting outside the door because he needed to use the room too, and so he helped me get the dress situation fixed, and when I got my head through the turtleneck I finally saw that it was Santa,” I finish in a rush. “And he was super attractive, and he definitely saw me in a state of partial undress. And it was weird, Sarah. I was attracted toSanta Claus.”

“What’s ‘undwess?’” Flora says.

“It’s where you’re not wearing clothes,” Sarah says absently. “Okay, well, wait—it might not be as weird as it sounds. How much of the Santa thing did he have going on when you were attracted to him?”

“Just the pants at first,” I say, the image still vivid in my mind. “He was shirtless. And then he put on the shirt.”

“But he didn’t have the hair or the beard or the belly or anything?”

I shake my head. “No. None of that.”

“Oh, well, then,” Sarah says, waving one hand as if to brush my concerns away. “That’s not weird at all. All you really saw was a shirtless man wearing red pants.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “Still—Santa Claus. You know?”

“But he’s notactuallySanta Claus. Who was he? Do you know him?”

“No,” I say. “I’ve never seen him—”

“Oh, look!” Sarah says, cutting me off. She glances at me apologetically. “Sorry,” she says. She points discreetly at a spot in the crowd not too far away. “But there’s Gerty Nixon. You wanted to talk to her, didn’t you?”

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