Noelle nods. “You know, at the Christmas set-up in the mall. Parents bring their kids to the North Pole to meet Santa, and Santa’s helpers pass out candy canes or take pictures…” Lifting her hand, she says, “Santa’s helper.”
I don’t make it to the mall much, but I know immediately that I’m going to require a visual of Noelle dressed up in an elf costume.
“I’m free tomorrow,” I tell her. “Perhaps we could meet up when you get off work. If you’ll be hungry, we could even get food.”
She must be aware of the growing irregularity of this ‘tutoring session’, but she doesn’t remark upon it. “I’m sure I’ll be hungry.”
“What time do you work until?”
“Four.”
“Then I’ll meet you there at four,” I tell her.
Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “You’ll meet me there? At my work? In the mall?”
“Why not?”
The first flicker of uncertainty crosses her face. “I don’t know. It’s a public place. Won’t people see—? I mean, are you al
lowed to…?”
She waits for me to save her the awkwardness of having to finish her question.
I don’t.
Finally, her mouth snaps shut and she shrugs. “Fine. You can meet me there. I’ll bring my paper in my bag along with a change of clothes. Do I need to bring anything else?”
My lips curve up faintly and I lean back in my chair, looking her over briefly before meeting her gaze. “How ’bout a candy cane?”
Noelle rolls her eyes at me. “I need Christmas shopping money, okay?”
I spread my hands in a gesture of innocence. “I said nothing.”
“Your eyes said plenty,” she counters. “You never look joyful unless you’re skewering someone, so I know you’re making fun of me.”
Her words make me grin. “I would never.”
“Liar,” she tosses back, but there’s no heat behind it.
“Sometimes,” I admit.
A beat passes, almost pleasantly, then Noelle glances over her shoulder toward the door before regarding me once more with a thin barrier of professionalism. “Well, I should probably head home.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I nod my head. “Probably.”
Noelle holds my gaze for a few seconds, then abruptly drops it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. McLaren.”
“That you will, Miss Harper. That you will.”
Chapter Two
Noelle
My shift today is even more hectic than usual. Since it’s the weekend and Christmas is coming up, the mall is packed.
Parents and nannies wait with excited, rambunctious children for the chance to meet Santa and overpay for a photograph memorializing the experience. The ones who don’t give up and get out of the long line make it all the way to me, and I greet each family cheerfully, theatrically checking Santa’s naughty or nice list for their child’s name. After that, we all do our best to get each little one on Santa's lap for a picture. The kids either tell Santa what they want for Christmas or bawl their eyes out until their frazzled parents give up and take them back, and then it's on to the next one.
By the time my shift finally comes to an end, I'm exhausted, but it still doesn't help the flutter of butterflies in my stomach.