Page 44 of The Naughty Or Nice Clause

“In a way, the dust is a present – but definitely not a toy.”

Lyla stared at the black dust entering the top of the hourglass and drifting until it became glimmering golden particles.

“I can take you to see a few toymakers in the village if this doesn’t live up to your expectations.”

“Expectations? No one could expect this. It’s so beautiful, but I have no idea what gold dust has to do with Christmas,” she admitted.

They stood together, watching the changing dust.

“Every year, as we work, the hourglass fills with the dust. We mine the rocks from the Moiruilt Mountains which surround Yule. We don’t know exactly how it works, but we know there’s magic within them. Then, during the twelve days before Christmas, the taps open. The list decides who gets what.”

“You don’t decide?”

“No. The list writes itself. We create parchment from the trees here, and stack it in a room; as the year progresses, names appear. We check it, twice, to make sure it’s correct.”

“You check it? But if it writes itself, how could you possibly check it?”

“The list can change, from the beginning of the year to the end. We make sure we have the most updated version by making a copy of the original. At the end of the year, we have a team who checks it.

“The land decides to create the dust and the list. We are merely its workers and deliverers. On Christmas Eve, the list is placed in the hourglass. When the night is over and all the dust distributed, all that remains in the hourglass is the completed list; if everyone has received their dust, then the names on the list turn gold,” he said reverently.

Lyla had more questions than answers, but maybe when dealing with such magical properties it was a matter of faith rather than fact. One thing did puzzle her. “I’ve never received gold dust at Christmas. I checked the list, and I was on the nice column!”

Mason picked up a velvet pouch from the conveyor belt and opened it. He took her hand in his and poured the gold dust over her open palm, only for it to evaporate.

Lyla ran her fingers over her palm, feeling… nothing. “I don’t understand.”

“No, you never saw the gold dust. The dust was sprinkled over you, your presents or something that belonged to you. It’s like goodwill – a touch of luck so your year will be better than the last. A gift doesn’t always have to be material. Myths of Klaus just found it easier to say we give presents rather than dust.”

“And if you – if they’re on the naughty list?” Lyla asked.

“Then they’ll have to go without the helping hand until they decide to extend one to another.”

Kind of like karma.“Clever,” was all she could muster, watching the workers fill pouch after pouch until she grew dizzy. “So even those who don’t believe receive something?”

“Just because someone doesn’t believe in us doesn’t mean we don’t believe in them. This is why the village is so secret. This place is more than a workshop; we help keep the balance in the world. Without hope, kindness and generosity, the world would be a much darker place.”

“You said we,” she said.

“What?” he asked, his attention pulled from the hourglass.

“You said ‘we’. I thought you had decided to leave this place behind.”

“Don’t twist my words,” he said with a nudge.

“For all this talk of kindness and generosity, you became an investment banker?” she said under her breath, and then regretted it.

“Yes. I like money. In Yule, everything is faith; numbers are facts.” He led her away from the factory floor, though she really wanted to stay and watch all day to make sure everything she was seeing was real.

“I also save businesses; I don’t close them. You made me the enemy before I even said hello,” he reasoned.

“You made yourself the enemy when you stepped into my seat without so much as a hello,” she countered, but she knew how much he had helped her company, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

He clenched his jaw, reminding her of their past tiffs; all he was missing was the suit. She followed him up a stairway to the second level of the open warehouse, where there was a small office. He closed the door once she was inside, giving them some peace from the ruckus below, then stood by the door, watching her.

“If you understand why Christmas is so important, why didn’t you want to celebrate?” she asked, taking a seat at his desk.

He shrugged, avoiding the question.

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