age.
“None taken,” he assured her with a chuckle .
“Are you ready?” Reg Winkelhof called out from the front of the store.
“Yes,” chorused Pam and Ed.
Reg unlocked the door, and a swarm of eager humanity surged into the store — very young believers and their parents. Pam watched, amused. Some of the kids were pulling sleepy parents impatiently toward Santa and Mrs. Claus. Some of the parents were tugging hesitant, shy kids. All were directed into a cordoned queue that led to the back of the store where she and Ed were enthroned.
Democratically, as each child reached the front of the line, he or she had a choice to talk to Santa or Mrs. Claus. Understandably , more of the kids opted for Santa, yet Pam was gratified to see how many of them actually preferred to speak with her. When Reg had interviewed her, he had admitted this new pairing of a female counterpart with the traditional Santa was an experiment and something of a crapshoot. It looked like it was working.
Reg had organized it so that either Santa or Mrs. Claus was on duty at all times while the Toyland display was open. They both got several fifteen-minute breaks during the day, plus lunch break and dinner break, since their working hours were 10 AM to 8 PM, but their breaks were staggered, not simultaneous. Consequently , Pam and Ed had little opportunity to talk to each other through the day. They exchanged a few sentences here and there, and Pam warmed to the senior citizen’s sense of humor and genial smile, which seemed to be for real , and not just part of his Santa persona.
It wasn’t till eight o’clock that first night that they had a chance to talk meaningfully to each other again. Reg had locked the door to the store and shepherded Ed and Pam to the back rooms, where they could each change back into their own clothes. As Pam, once again in street clothes, opened the door of the small room where she had changed, she encountered a man who looked to be in his late forties, with black hair, blue eyes, a charming smile, and a lean, trim figure. Taken aback, she said, “Oh—hi. I’m Pam. I was just—”
The man laughed heartily. “Do I look that different out of costume?” S he recognized the voice as Ed’s.
“Migawd!” she gasped, gaping at him unabashedly. “Santa” was no senior citizen! Santa was a sexy chap around her age. Her eyes darted immediately to the ring finger of his left hand. There was no wedding ring, but that meant nothing. Not all married men wore one.
Indeed, as Reg let them out of the store, then lock ed the door behind them, a woman was waiting in the corridor who sang out cheerily, “There you are! How did it go?” as Ed emerged with Pam.
Ed gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek and said to Pam, “This is Misty.”
“Glad to meet you,” Pam said, taking Misty’s hand and squeezing it.
Misty squeezed back. “Me too,” she said with a warm smile.
They’re well matched, Pam thought with a sigh as she mentally shrugged her shoulders and, with a cheery “See you tomorrow!” she waved goodbye to Ed and headed off to the mall exit and her car.
Pam went home to her too-large house and fixed herself a bite to eat. Though she’d had a half-hour dinner break at five o’clock, she hadn’t eaten that much and now, at quarter to nine, she was hungry again. Thoughts of Ed, and particularly images of his smile flitted through her head, and they remained there as she did the dishes, took her bath, watered her plants, and settled into bed. She was tired, and al though ten-thirty was earlier than her usual bedtime, she decided she was ready to go to sleep. U ntil sleep claimed her, however, images of Ed continued to populate her mind. He certainly was appealing looking, and his smile warmed her heart even now.
Pam woke in the morning with a warm glow in her heart whose origin she could not immediately pinpoint. Soon, though, the glow transformed into a mental image of Ed’s smile, and she remembered
“None taken,” he assured her with a chuckle .
“Are you ready?” Reg Winkelhof called out from the front of the store.
“Yes,” chorused Pam and Ed.
Reg unlocked the door, and a swarm of eager humanity surged into the store — very young believers and their parents. Pam watched, amused. Some of the kids were pulling sleepy parents impatiently toward Santa and Mrs. Claus. Some of the parents were tugging hesitant, shy kids. All were directed into a cordoned queue that led to the back of the store where she and Ed were enthroned.
Democratically, as each child reached the front of the line, he or she had a choice to talk to Santa or Mrs. Claus. Understandably , more of the kids opted for Santa, yet Pam was gratified to see how many of them actually preferred to speak with her. When Reg had interviewed her, he had admitted this new pairing of a female counterpart with the traditional Santa was an experiment and something of a crapshoot. It looked like it was working.
Reg had organized it so that either Santa or Mrs. Claus was on duty at all times while the Toyland display was open. They both got several fifteen-minute breaks during the day, plus lunch break and dinner break, since their working hours were 10 AM to 8 PM, but their breaks were staggered, not simultaneous. Consequently , Pam and Ed had little opportunity to talk to each other through the day. They exchanged a few sentences here and there, and Pam warmed to the senior citizen’s sense of humor and genial smile, which seemed to be for real , and not just part of his Santa persona.
It wasn’t till eight o’clock that first night that they had a chance to talk meaningfully to each other again. Reg had locked the door to the store and shepherded Ed and Pam to the back rooms, where they could each change back into their own clothes. As Pam, once again in street clothes, opened the door of the small room where she had changed, she encountered a man who looked to be in his late forties, with black hair, blue eyes, a charming smile, and a lean, trim figure. Taken aback, she said, “Oh—hi. I’m Pam. I was just—”
The man laughed heartily. “Do I look that different out of costume?” S he recognized the voice as Ed’s.
“Migawd!” she gasped, gaping at him unabashedly. “Santa” was no senior citizen! Santa was a sexy chap around her age. Her eyes darted immediately to the ring finger of his left hand. There was no wedding ring, but that meant nothing. Not all married men wore one.
Indeed, as Reg let them out of the store, then lock ed the door behind them, a woman was waiting in the corridor who sang out cheerily, “There you are! How did it go?” as Ed emerged with Pam.
Ed gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek and said to Pam, “This is Misty.”
“Glad to meet you,” Pam said, taking Misty’s hand and squeezing it.
Misty squeezed back. “Me too,” she said with a warm smile.
They’re well matched, Pam thought with a sigh as she mentally shrugged her shoulders and, with a cheery “See you tomorrow!” she waved goodbye to Ed and headed off to the mall exit and her car.
Pam went home to her too-large house and fixed herself a bite to eat. Though she’d had a half-hour dinner break at five o’clock, she hadn’t eaten that much and now, at quarter to nine, she was hungry again. Thoughts of Ed, and particularly images of his smile flitted through her head, and they remained there as she did the dishes, took her bath, watered her plants, and settled into bed. She was tired, and al though ten-thirty was earlier than her usual bedtime, she decided she was ready to go to sleep. U ntil sleep claimed her, however, images of Ed continued to populate her mind. He certainly was appealing looking, and his smile warmed her heart even now.
Pam woke in the morning with a warm glow in her heart whose origin she could not immediately pinpoint. Soon, though, the glow transformed into a mental image of Ed’s smile, and she remembered
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