Page 2 of Suddenly Mine
Inside the staff room Merry peeled off her sodden coat, opened her locker and pulled out her uniform — the mandatory Carroll’s Christmas dress.
It wastechnicallya dress, but felt more like a theatrical costume. The rich, velvet-red skater dress had a soft white faux-fur trim around the cuffs and hem, and was paired with thick green tights and a pair of polished black Mary-Jane heels thatclicked when she walked, no matter how much she tried to sneak.
Grabbing the day’s rota from the pinboard, she scanned it quickly, already bracing herself for bad news. Door duty. All day. She stuffed the paper back on to the board a little heavy-handedly. Door duty meant standing in the cold draft, welcoming shoppers into the building, handing out leaflets, smiling until her cheeks ached, and desperately hoping that the blast of warm air from the overhead heater would reach her before she turned into an icicle. It was possibly the worst job at Carroll’s in December, but at least it came with the small blessing of not having to deal with angry customers or spilled lattes or, God forbid, Mrs Cradley herself.
Carroll’s was already packed by the time she squeezed herself into position near the front doors, the atrium sparkling with fairy lights and ringing with the sound of Bing Crosby. She settled herself directly under the door heater, claiming the tiny sliver of warmth like a territorial cat, and plastered on the brightest smile she could manage.
And, against all odds, once she got into the rhythm of it, the day didn’t seem quite so bad. She found herself lulled into a strange kind of hypnotic routine, handing out leaflets, dodging stampeding children, nodding politely at harassed parents and selfie-stick-wielding tourists. The hours slipped past faster than she would have believed after the catastrophic start to her morning.
“Welcome to Christmas at Carroll’s! It’s the happiest time of year!”
Merry Sinclair charged up her warmest smile, offering it to the young couple who had just walked through the door. She could see their relief as they caught the blast of hot air that blew down from the vent above, their cheeks glowing beneath their matching red pom-pommed reindeer hats.
She realised the young couple were standing there waiting for her to say something else, and she tried to make her smile even wider. It must have been too wide, though, because they started to edge away. Merry thrust a leaflet at them with one hand, using the other to nudge the itchy, oversized Christmas hat away from her eyes.
“Don’t forget, if you spend over ten dollars you can get a free gingerbread cookie and hot drink in the restaurant,” she said. “And enter the charity raffle for your chance to come to the legendary Carroll’s Christmas Ball! Only four days left to go.”
“Um . . . thanks,” said the young woman, taking the leaflet between her thumb and forefinger like she’d been offered a mouldy banana. They hurried away, and Merry sighed.
It didn’t matter how many lights they strung up, how many carols they blasted through the speakers, how many charity raffles and free cookies they handed out, Christmas to Merry still meant waiting for something that wasn’t coming.
Three years ago, she’d believed Adrian, her ex, when he’d left for his new job on the West Coast, swearing he’d be back for Christmas. She’d roasted a turkey, decorated the apartment, even bought mistletoe like an absolute idiot. And she’d waited. And waited. And he never came.
The turkey burned because she was too distracted, then she couldn’t bring herself to eat it alone. She’d sat at the wobbly kitchen table in her stupid sparkly dress, staring at the silent phone, while her roommate had loud, enthusiastic sex just one wall away. And somewhere across the country, Adrian had already moved on with someone new and better and had simply forgotten to tell Merry about it.
Since then, Merry had learned her lesson. Christmas magic was for other people or children or couples who had a future and absolutely not for people like her.
“Absolute knob!” she muttered under her breath. “I hate you.”
“Whoa,” said a voice from her side. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask somebody else.”
Merry swung around, her mouth open to apologise. The words didn’t make it up her throat, though, because the man who was standing there literally took her breath away. He looked a little older than her, but there was a playful shine to his features that made him look younger. His eyes were the colour of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and just looking at them made her feel like she was melting. The sharp angles of his jaw were covered in dark stubble, and his brown hair was still perfectly styled despite the fact he’d just walked in from the wind and the sleet. He smiled at her politely and started to walk away.
“Wait!” she blurted out. “I’m sorry!”
He turned back, and she wasn’t sure if he smiled again or not because her hat slipped down over her eyes. She pushed it back up, managing to lose her grip on the leaflets she was holding. They fluttered down to the floor like snowflakes.
“Shit,” she said. “Hang on.”
She crouched down to retrieve the leaflets, noticing too late that the man was doing exactly the same thing. There was an audiblecrackas their foreheads knocked together.
“Ow!” she said, her hat slipping over her eyes again. This time she pulled it off, her copper-coloured hair delighted to be free and flying everywhere. “I’m really sorry,” she said, blinking the tears from her eyes as she massaged her forehead.
The man was standing up again too, rubbing a red patch between his eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
Fortunately, he smiled, wincing a little. “Christmas shopping is a lot more dangerous than I remember it being,” he said, his voice as rich and melodious as a Christmas crooner. “I’m surethis place used to be friendlier. First you say you hate me, then you try to knock me out!”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was thinking about . . . It doesn’t matter. Somebody else. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“That’s some headbutt you have there,” he said. “They should have you working security.”
She laughed, grateful that the man was being so kind. She was on thin ice in the store as it was, and knocking a customer unconscious wouldn’t exactly help her case with the management.
“I’m going in again,” the man said, holding his hands up in warning. “I’m giving you plenty of notice this time.”
He crouched down and scooped up the leaflets, handing them back to her.