I almost yank the door from its hinges while sliding it open.
Maria blinks quickly, signaling nervousness, a sheepish smile plastered across her lips.
“Yes? Please tell no one has lodged a complaint again.”
She shakes her head a few times without a real answer.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
There must be.
Why else would she looked like she swallowed a frog?
“No problem,” she says curtly. “Someone said they saw a man pulling up in front of the entrance. He was driving one of those big trucks and wearing a Santa suit.”
I enjoy the brief moment of relief, not knowing what the problem is.
“Is he not our Santa?”
“No one else is in the building, so I assume he’s our Santa.”
“Who saw him?” I ask, pivoting to the main room when she touches my arm, compelling me to stay.
There's something strange about her expression, so I stop and pull up closer, adjusting the intensity of my voice. “Does Elisa know he is here?”
She shakes her head again.
“Elisa left before he arrived.”
“What?? Why? Was something wrong?”
She breathes an anemic chuckle.
“No, no. It was nothing like that. Colley had cramps.”
“I hope it’s not from our food.”
“She said he’d had them on and off these past few days, and it was not related to his diet. They’ve seen a doctor, and his lab tests came back fine, but she wanted to err on the side of caution and take him home. She also wanted me to tell you that, as far as she’s concerned, everything looked perfect tonight.”
“Thank God for that,” I say, pushing out a troubled chuckle. “So why do you look like you pooped in your pants? Santa is here. Everything is going according to the plan. We’re finally on schedule. Although…” I check my delicate wristwatch engraved with two cardinals, a beloved gift from my late mother.
And then I burst out.
“Oh, my God. How much time have I spent in the bathroom. He’s half an hour late?”
She seems less upset than me. In fact, she’s cool as a cucumber.
“He probably is, but that is the least of our problems.”
“What do you mean?”
“You better see for yourself.”
Her enigmatic smile doesn’t fool me.
She tries to pull away from me, forcing me to follow her, but I’m quicker than her, grab her by the elbow, and pull her to the side.
“What is wrong with‘this’Santa?” I ask under my breath, about to lose it if the new option proves to be problematic.
