The Santa Problem Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  COPYRIGHT

  The Santa Problem

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Epilogue

  The Santa Problem

  Barbara Elsborg

  COPYRIGHT

  The Santa Problem is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 by Barbara Elsborg

  Cover design by B4Jay

  Edited by Deco

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or transmitted in any manner without written permission from Barbara Elsborg, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For all enquiries, please contact Barbara Elsborg at [email protected]

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Thanks always to Rita for all her hard work. Also to Angela and my ARC readers!

  The Santa Problem

  When Kendall is let down by the Santa and photographer he’s booked for his garden centre, he frantically tries to find replacements. But no one is available to step in at the last minute and he’s running out of time and options.

  Then Alfie arrives, with his electric-blue hair, piercings, megawatt smile, and three cute reindeer. And, he just happens to be a photographer. Finally, Kendall sees a glimmer of hope. So what if he hates Christmas, kids, beards and missing Santas? Kendall can play Santa himself, if he just learns how to smile.

  As Kendall thaws and gets into the role, Alfie has renewed hope that he’ll manage what he came all the way here to do. It all depends on Kendall believing him, and that suddenly becomes a mountain Kendall won’t even try to climb. But Alfie won’t give up. It’s not over yet. This is Christmas and there’s magic in the air!

  1

  By the time Kendall got round to his coffee, it had gone cold. With a surge of annoyance, he shoved it across his desk and only just managed to catch it before it slid over the edge. That morning, he’d had to deal with one problem after another. Lazell’s Garden Centre was an albatross around his neck. He’d taken the job because the pay was good, and now he couldn’t find anything that paid better, not that he was qualified to do. If his CV didn’t inspire him, then it wasn’t going to inspire anyone else.

  He’d come to work with a headache and it had intensified to the point that he thought he might need to find a dark place to lie down if it didn’t ease off.

  Could he sort out the non-arrival of Christmas ornaments specifically ordered by an increasingly belligerent customer who had phoned every day for the past two weeks demanding to know when the miniature gnomes were going to arrive? What did the guy want him to do? Hop on a plane to China and stand over the suppliers until they sorted themselves out? Fortunately, he managed not to say that.

  Then Danny had tripped over a wire deer in the outdoor section and broken his ankle, as well as crushing the deer. An accident waiting to happen. The guy was the clumsiest person Kendall had ever met. The deer was a write-off and so was Danny at their busiest time of the year. Though Kendall was already wondering if there was something Danny could do while he was recovering. Probably not. The centre’s insurance policy wouldn’t let that happen.

  When news came that the Christmas tree netting machine had broken down, Kendall began to think he should have stayed in bed. Though it turned out to be an easy fix, something jammed that he’d been able to unjam. Not so the lights going out in the Christmas section. Flicking a switch on the circuit board hadn’t worked and Kendall had been forced to call an electrician. Still, the lights were on again now.

  His phone rang and he glared at it. The way today was going, he was almost sure he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.

  “Kendall Blackstone.”

  “Ah Mr Blackstone. This is Santas Are Us. I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem.”

  Of course you fucking do. Kendall closed his eyes and put the palm of his hand to his throbbing forehead. “Right.”

  “The Santa we’d allocated for Lazell’s has been sent a plane ticket to visit his daughter in Australia. It will be the first time he’s seen his grandchildren, so you can imagine how excited—”

  “Get to the point,” Kendall snapped.

  “You were very specific with your requirements with regards to the Santa you wanted and we don’t have anyone else to send.”

  Kendall unclenched his teeth. “Wonderful. So I have children booked to see Santa at the garden centre tomorrow and I have to tell them he’s gone to Australia?”

  “Well, no, you don’t have to tell them that.”

  Kendall rolled his eyes. Sarcasm was lost on this idiot. “Then what do you think I should tell them? There must be someone else you can send. What if I revise my requirements?”

  “I’m sorry. It would make no difference. There’s no one else on our books at all.”

  “Then you come and do it!”

  “I’m a double amputee.”

  That’s convenient.

  “I lost my legs in a motorcycle accident.”

  Shit. “Sorry to hear that. I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just… What about the photographer? Is he or she still coming?”

  “Ah…”

  Kendall could almost feel his blood pressure rocketing.

  “He’s Santa’s son and he’s going with him to Australia.”

  For fuck’s sake!

  “But you’ve already had the photographic equipment delivered so as a gesture of goodwill you can keep that for the allotted time. All you need to find is a photographer.”

  He had the nerve to laugh.

  “Obviously, we’ll be refunding your money, apart from the rental of the equipment.”

  So how was that a gesture of goodwill?

  “I’ll email you the names of a few other agencies that might be able to provide a Santa and a photographer, but Christmas is coming.”

  Yes, I fucking know and if you were here, I’d show you what I thought of that fucking jovial tone of voice.

  “Everyone has been booked up long in advance. The earlier you book—”

  “I booked with you in February.” If this guy was trying to make out it was his fault…

  “Most of our clients are repeat bookings.”

  “This one won’t be.”

  Kendall ended the call before he said something he’d regret. He almost threw his phone at the wall, then thought better of it. That wasn’t going to change anything except make him more pissed off. What the hell was he supposed to do? Having no Santa wasn’t an option.

  An hour later, his mood was even darker, and his headache was producing black spots in his vision. No agencies on the email sent by Santas Are Us had any Santas available. It’s December had been the repeated incredulous response. Kendall spread his net wider, and tried all over the country with no success. It wasn’t as if he could just choose some random guy off the street.

  Company policy stated that even casual employees needed a Disclosure and Barring Services check, a DBS. UK law didn’t agree that Santas needed the check and although that had surprised Kendall, his hands were tied and he couldn’t employ anyone who didn’t have one. He considered calling head office and asking if an exception could be made, but that was a last resort. He doubted they’d risk the potential issues that might arise if a child met a pervert disguised as Santa, even if the likelihood was close to zero. If Kendall took the risk and didn’t tell them, getting dismissed would be the least of his worries.

  Unfortunately, a DBS check could take as long as two weeks and he needed someone tomorrow. And a photographer. It wasn’t much consolation that he definitely had two elves. Ellie and Rashid, two garden centre employees, had volunteered to wear the ridiculous outfits and false ears. But no child was going to be satisfied with getting a present from a plastic-eared elf. Kendall grabbed his headache tablets from the drawer. He’d already taken two but he took another two with a swig of cold coffee. Ugh.

  Lunch didn’t happen. He was still trying to find a DBS-checked Santa, but come up with nothing. Needing someone tomorrow was part of the problem. He didn’t think any of his employees could do it but he went for a wander around the garden centre just to make sure he’d not overlooked anyone. All workers were dressed in green polo shirts, grey fleecy jackets with Lazell’s on the back in white letters and either grey trousers or skirts. Some wore Santa hats. Some wore musical Santa hats. Kendall had promised himself that would never be him.

  He already had Santa’s outfit hanging in his office. After seeing what last year’s Santa had turned up in, the material so thin you could see through it, Kendall had purchased the suit in the sales, but it was for a tall guy. One my height.

  I am not fucking doing it.

  Kendall mentally dismissed all his employees for one reason or another. Females were out. He couldn’t deal with the endless questions and the headache of being that progressive. The men were too tall, too short, too young, had a weird voice, the wrong attitude, looked scary—even to him, so to a child? —or had the wrong accent. Shit! Maybe he’d have to rethink the wrong accent. Nojus, the guy from Lithuania, might be okay.
He already had the height, the belly and a beard. He’d dye it white if he was paid enough, wouldn’t he? It’d be more authentic than the ridiculous beard that had come with the outfit.

  After Kendall had talked to him, he changed his mind about asking him. Nojus might be brilliant with plants, but he was even more of a grump than Kendall, and unleashing him on little kids and their parents seemed unwise.

  He headed outside with It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas being piped out of the garden centre speakers. Fucking great. As if he needed the reminder.

  At the far end of the development, in an area that usually held a display of sheds and garden buildings surrounded by large trees in pots, a winter wonderland had been created by Kendall and his staff. Mostly his staff. The plan was that kids and parents would walk through a line of festively decorated chalets, owned by Lazell’s, with a few rented to local craftspeople who’d sell a variety of Christmas crap. A couple of the chalets would be used by Lazell’s to sell food and drink made in the café. Kendall had ordered huge quantities of hot chocolate mix, mini marshmallows and spiced wine, along with the cups to serve it in, non-spill souvenir ones for the children, which enabled them to charge more.

  Beyond the line of chalets, they’d created a snowy path winding through trees, some artificial, some real, with snow machines sending flakes flurrying over the whole area. Visitors would end up at Santa’s house, a log cabin decorated with lights and candy canes, where children would be given a gift and photos would be taken. The adults could either choose to have a digital image or print it in the kiosk back in the garden centre. On the other side of the Santa experience was a large skating rink that had been set up by a contractor yesterday.

  Although Kendall had zero interest in Christmas, apart from the money it would make, this all looked pretty good. But… A lump formed in his throat. It didn’t work without Santa. Mike Lazell, CEO of Lazell’s nationwide chain of garden centres, would not be happy. Kendall was running out of options. The one that remained, he still couldn’t bring himself to contemplate.

  As he approached the start of the snowy path, a guy ahead of him stepped over the tape barrier that had a No Entry sign attached, and went into the trees. A customer, not an employee. Kendall strode after him. When he caught up, he saw the man was taking pictures with a DSLR camera.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Kendall barked.

  The man turned and flashed him a megawatt smile. “I’m Alfie West, the photographer for your winter wonderland.”

  “I thought you were off to Australia with your father.”

  Alfie frowned. “Er… No.”

  Alfie was about five ten to Kendall’s six two, slim, in his early twenties with blue hair, eyeliner, piercings and the hint of a tattoo at his neck. He looked like he belonged in a rock band. Trouble. Unreliable. Not Kendall’s type at all.

  “Santa has cancelled. I can’t find a replacement. I don’t think you’ll be needed.”

  “You can’t find a replacement? How hard did you look?”

  Kendall was instantly irritated, though the mood he was in, it hadn’t taken much.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but plenty hard enough.”

  “Is no one who works here suitable?”

  “No.”

  Alfie shrugged. “Then why don’t you do it?”

  “I run the garden centre.”

  “You think you’re too important to do the most important job of the season?”

  Kendall gaped at him.

  “Think of those disappointed children. I bet you’re completely booked up for visits, aren’t you? All those kids looking forward to getting a gift from Santa. All those sad little faces. All those pissed-off parents. All the refunds.”

  All that lost revenue. And one very irritated boss.

  “Are you at least thinking about it? You could do it yourself. A bit of padding and you’d look the part.”

  Kendall rolled his eyes. “I’m in my thirties.”

  “Yeah, but under a beard and a wig you’d look older. You’d have to stop frowning though. The beard wouldn’t hide a frown. You’d see it in your eyes. Try to look happy. Can you do that? It’s sort of an essential for Santa.”

  Kendall frowned harder. “I have a full-time job managing this place.”

  “This lovely garden centre that’s decorated top to bottom and selling a whole load of Christmas stuff, in fact the entire Christmas experience? Ice skating, hot chocolate and mulled wine, with a lovely snowy path that leads to… oh dear, an empty log cabin?”

  Kendall wanted to strangle him.

  Alfie lifted his camera and took his picture. “Ooh, you look like you want to strangle me. This could be evidence.” He grinned.

  You aggravating little shit. “Stop that. I don’t like my photograph being taken.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.”

  “There must be a reason.”

  “Which has nothing to do with you!”

  “When you’re dressed up as Santa, no one would recognise you. You wouldn’t recognise yourself. None of the photos would be for you anyway, would they?”

  Why was he even having a conversation with this aggravating individual?

  “Just…leave. There’s nothing for you to do.” Though for one brief moment, Kendall had wondered if the guy could be the Santa he was looking for. But he was too young, too pierced, too…wrong.

  When Alfie didn’t walk off, Kendall did.

  “What about my reindeer?” Alfie called. “Don’t you want them either?”

  Kendall slammed to a halt and turned. “What reindeer?”

  “Part of the package.”

  Kendall definitely didn’t remember that. “Where are they?”

  “In a trailer in the car park. Where did you intend to put them?”

  Real reindeer? Kendall still wasn’t sure.

  “They don’t need a lot of space, but they do need somewhere secure where people can look at them, and a place for them to sleep. A fence, a waterproof groundsheet, straw, a gazebo. They need someone looking out for them while I’m taking pictures. Someone who can control the queue and make sure the deer aren’t mobbed. And no flash photography allowed. It hurts their eyes.”

  Kendall’s aching brain was racing. “The reindeer are included in the price?”

  “You’ve already paid for them. I don’t want to drag them all the way home. I live a long way away from here.”

  “I haven’t paid for reindeer.”

  “You paid for a photographer with reindeer and here we are.” Alfie threw out his arms.

  It had to be a mistake, but Kendall wasn’t going to look gift reindeer in the mouth. Lazell’s would be the only place in the area with them. They’d be a huge draw. He’d looked into getting them but they were so expensive and he was a little uneasy about the ethical element. But…but…but…

  One last try. “Are you sure you have the right garden centre?”

  “This is where the sat nav brought me. Am I going home or what? And really, I don’t want to drive all the way back after I’ve made the long journey here. It’s not fair on the deer. They need a rest.”

  Kendall made a decision. “How about using that area over there, on the opposite side of the winter wonderland to the ice rink? It would be quieter. You can help yourself to what you need from the garden centre. There’s hay and straw in the pet department, a choice of gazebos and we have fencing. I’ll send someone to give you a hand.”

  “Great! Thanks, Kendall.”

  Kendall stalked off, belatedly wondering how Alfie knew his name. Though he’d probably just asked one of the staff. He stopped to tell Josh and Carlo to help Alfie, then retreated to his office. He really didn’t want to be Santa Claus but… Could he? Appointments with Santa ran from one in the afternoon until six in the evening for the next couple of weeks. Once schools broke up, they ran from ten until seven and the garden centre closed at four o’clock on Christmas Eve.

  Could he do his job and be Santa?

  A few prejudices needed to be shed first. Kendall hated Christmas, kids, beards and photographers, especially ones who were taking his picture. That wasn’t the end of the list by a long way, and maybe the word hate was a bit strong but… No, maybe it wasn’t. The bottom line was that he wanted to make this garden centre more profitable than any other in the group this year. He wanted his figures to be the best. He wanted Mike Lazell to be impressed. He needed the achievement on his CV ready to dazzle his next boss, whoever that might be.