“How’d you know my name?” Matt asked.
“I know everybody that comes to St. Claws. I’m the town’s founder.”
“Whoopee-do. Everybody?”
“Yup.” He poured a double shot from the Patrón bottle.
“My wife and boy?”
“Jenny and Billy.”
Matt eyed the man suspiciously. “This is getting weird. Where’s my tequila?” As soon as the double shot was in reach, Matt downed it in one swallow, breathed out forcefully, then dropped the shot glass back on the bar. “Man, I needed that.”
Matt checked the exit—still no Jenny or Billy—and went back to staring at the old man as he adjusted a big red ornament on the little tree. “I know…it was Purvis,” he said.
The bartender replied, “Purvis?”
“Yeah, Purvis told you. If you and him are so close, why don’t you suggest he get busy on my SUV.”
“We’re working on your problem.”
“We?” He motioned for another shot. “What’s your name—and don’t tell me Santa.”
The bartender moved the Patrón aside and reached under the counter, removing a dark bottle with no label. He popped the cork and filled the shot glass. “Rudolph,” he said. “Rudolph Claws.”
Matt grimaced. “Rudolph. That’s as bad as Santa.” He stared at the bottle. It looked awfully old, if it’s scratched surface was any indication. No chips or cracks, though. “What’s that you’re serving me?”
“You’ll like it—much smoother than Patrón.”
“Nothing’s smoother than Patrón.” Matt lifted the glass and sniffed the amber liquid. Well. Maybe this was. He met the burly old man’s eyes. “This does smell good. Different. Kind of fruity, but not fruity.” He took a taste test. “Strong. What is it?”
“A well fermented liquor—ships in from way up north. Only use it on special occasions.”
Matt emptied the glass and shook his head vigorously. “Shit, Rudolph. Umm…that was good. Fill ’er up again.”
The bartender recorked the bottle and replaced it under the counter. “One per customer.”
“Figures—I get to liking something and then it’s taken away.” He swigged some of the Corona. “What’s with this town anyway? St. Claws, Prancers Inn, Dancers Bar and Grill, Vixens, Rudolph with your nose so bright. Crap.”
The big old man crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Mind if I ask you something, Matt?”
“Ask away. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“What do you have against Christmas?”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’ll tell you, Rudolph.” Matt finished the beer ignoring the buzz in his ears. At least the bells didn’t sound as loud. “Five weeks ago I was pulling down over eighty grand a year managing a fortune cookie manufacturer. I wrote fortunes, damn good ones—real witty. Then, because of Christmas, some Chinese corporation decides to dole out some holiday spirit and buy the company. Happy holidays, Matt Haskel, you’re out of a job. Ever try going job hunting during the fricking holidays? That’s one fortune I never would have written. So with no employment, I lose the option to buy a house. Jenny’s angry. No new house, so I get to spend the holidays with my in-laws who’ll have no shortage of advice on how to make my life better. Last thing I want to hear. You see, they got what I don’t have—money. Not to mention all the gifts, spending, traveling, rude people, Billy wants this five hundred dollar toy because it’s Christmas. That’s it, I rest my case, counselor—no Christmas, I have my job back, I afford a house, Jenny’s no longer angry, Billy gets his SuperScooter, no visiting my in-laws. Life’s great.” He shook his head slowly. “To tell the truth, Rudolph, right now I can’t think of anything good about Christmas time.”
Rudolph nodded slowly. “But Matt, haven’t you ever thought that Christmas is much more than gifts and spending. It’s about giving—love and respect—to those you love. It’s about family, friends, spending—but not money—spending time with those you want to be with. Where would you be without Jenny and Billy?”
Matt stared hard at the small ornamented tree. “I know where I wouldn’t be. Stuck in a backwoods town called St. Claws with a busted axle.” He motioned for another beer. “I’ll tell you what—sometimes I wish Christmas never happened.”
“You don’t mean that, son.”
Matt looked into the empty Corona. What a piece of crappola Christmas Eve he was going to have. “Yeah, Rudolph, I do. I wish Christmas never happened.”
Just then the big red ornament on the little tree quivered and dropped, shattering on the counter behind the bar.
An odd sensation washed over Matt and he was vaguely aware of a short man beside him. He looked over and tried to say “Purvis”, but the dizziness overcame him first. Slipping off the bar stool, he slumped to the floor.
* * *
The first thing Matt was aware of was no bells. He loved it. And his headache was gone! Wow. He gazed up at the face leaning over him. “Purvis?”
“Hey, Matt, you okay?”
Matt moved his arms and legs. Felt good. He sat up and grinned. “Yeah, I believe I am.” Standing, he caught Rudolph observing him with a curious expression. “Whoa, Rudolph, what was in that last shot—I feel like a million bucks.”
The burly bartender simply nodded and went about cleaning up the busted ornament. Matt didn’t see the little Christmas tree.
Now Matt became aware of another sound—not bells—but a loud whistling noise and he heard the door shaking. “Is that the wind?”
Purvis adjusted his wool cap over his ears and brushed some snow from his shoulders. “We got a storm brewing out there.”
Matt recalled only the light flurries and Jenny and Billy walking toward the big decorated tree and how Billy clapped and played with the snow flakes. “Not a blizzard, I hope.”
The tow driver shrugged. “It is winter.”
Matt frowned. What bad timing. He thought of Jenny and Billy. They’d be worried—hell, she’d probably blame him for the storm. He couldn’t believe it blew in so quickly. He started for the doorway of the Grill.
“Where you going, Matt?” Purvis asked.
“To check on the wife and kid.” He noticed Rudolph and Purvis exchange looks. “It’s the SUV, isn’t it,” he said, glaring at Purvis. “Have you done anything about the damn busted axle?”
Purvis averted his sharp gaze and leaned against the bar, accepting a cup of something steaming hot from Rudolph.
Matt’s expression hardened. “I’ll take your non-response as a no. Screw this crappy little town.” And he stalked for the Grill, calling, “Jenny, Billy.”
He stopped in the doorway. The booth where they’d been sitting was empty. A few other booths and tables were occupied and the patrons all looked up at Matt strangely. He approached the empty booth, aware of an odd sensation in his gut.
“Can I seat you, sir?” a waitress asked.
“No, I’m not really hungry.” He stared at the vacant seats a moment. Then asking, “Did you happen to see a woman in a blue down jacket with a young boy about this tall…” and he held his palm so high… “they were seated here.”
The waitress shook her head. “No one’s been seated there since I came on and that was a couple hours ago.”
“That’s wrong. They were just here. The woman was talking on her cell phone.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“What do you mean, nope?” He checked his watch. My watch?—but it was the time that drew his attention. Only a couple minutes had passed since swigging down Rudolph’s drink. “They were right here.”
The waitress appeared uneasy. “If you change you mind about ordering, let me know.” She turned away.
Matt almost reached for her, he was so irritated. Outside he could hear the howling wind gusting so strong, the shutters to the diner vibrated. “Hey, don’t just walk away—”
“Matt.” It was Purvis in the doo
rway. “Jenny and Billy weren’t there.”
Matt shot the waitress one last dirty look and huffed out, brushing the little tow driver out of the way. Inside the bar, Rudolph moved about casually, arranging liquor bottles and glassware. Matt stomped up to the barstool where he’d been seated. “When I was on the floor, did you see Jenny and my son walk out?”
Rudolph touched his beard. “No, I didn’t, Matt.”
Angry, Matt stared at the empty counter. “Where’s your little Christmas tree?”
Rudolph shrugged. “What tree?”
Matt couldn’t quell the rising disquiet in his midsection. What the hell was going on? “The pathetic little tree you had there. Where is it?” Then realizing he was sounding foolish, he steamed, “Just forget it. I need to find my wife and son.” And he stormed for the exit.
Outside, the wind gusts nearly blew him sideways. Crap, it was a fricking blizzard. Those incompetent weather forecasters—wrong again. This was one Christmas Eve he was never going to forget. The cold and blowing snow dug into his face like tiny splinters of ice. Hell, it was ice. Snow and sleet. The drifts against the curb were already a foot high. God, Jenny must be freaking out.
Purvis caught up with him on the sidewalk. “Where you heading, Matt?”
“Leave me alone.” Matt ducked into a strong gust of freezing snow and hail, tugging his jacket tight around his chest. Damn the storm.
“Matt.”
“I’m going to Prancers. Jenny and Billy must be back at the inn.” He had to shout to be heard over the wind which sounded like a freight train speeding over hard metal rails. He passed the huge tree in the town square. What the hell…Matt rubbed the moisture from his eyes. Had the blizzard blown all the decorations away? No lights, no tinsel, no ornaments—all vanished. The big tree stood as naked as if stranded high on one of the surrounding ridges. Someone yanked the plug, he reasoned. That would explain the lack of lights. He picked up his pace, worry coating his insides.
“Matt, your wife and son won’t be there, either,” Purvis shouted above the gusts.
Matt ignored the short man. Careful not to slip, he pushed down the sidewalk, realizing something was different about the small homes along the way, but too cold and uncomfortable to give it much thought. How could everything go to shit so fast?
The entrance to the quaint inn materialized out of the impending whiteout and Matt rushed to the door and shoved inside. Ah, finally some warmth. Still, he felt a strange coldness in his chest. He heard Purvis enter behind him, but didn’t slow. He ran right through the small lobby, past Maggie, and down a short hall to his room.
“Matt,” Purvis called after him.
The key worked and Matt flung open the door. “Jenny, Billy.” He stopped in his tracks. Where the hell was their luggage? He saw his overnight bag, but not Jenny’s or Billy’s. A quick search—the bed, bathroom, closets—turned up nothing. The cold sensation spread to his gut. Tendrils of panic touched his spine. Were they still outside somewhere in the snowstorm? He raced to the window. Outside, he could just barely make out the big tree. No decorations, nothing. The homes, too, quiet and dark, except for a few lights in the barren windows. He whirled, only to find Purvis quietly observing him from the doorway.
“What the hell’s going on?” Matt spat.
“They aren’t here, Matt.”
“Where’s my wife and son?” he shouted.
“I’m sorry, Matt.”
The SUV. “Did they go to the car?”
Purvis’ expression turned solemn. “No one’s at the car. It’s still parked in my garage.” Then with a rueful grin, he added, “I fixed the axle.”
“We can drive it?” Finally, some good news.
“Of course, but better let the storm die down.”
Matt glanced once more around the room. Jenny and Billy must be at the SUV with their luggage. That was it. They were waiting on him. If he hurried and drove carefully, they might still make Mammoth Lakes for Christmas Eve—storm or no storm. He had chains. He grabbed his bag and dashed out of the room, barely giving Purvis enough time to jump out of the way.
He ducked back outside and felt the full brunt of the wind. Colder than before, it felt like he’d entered an arctic wind tunnel. He could hear his teeth shattering in his ears. Off his shoulder, he sensed more than saw the little tow driver.
Purvis’s garage door was batted down tight. “Open it!” Matt shouted.
“They aren’t inside.”
Matt lunged at him. “I said open it!”
Purvis shrugged under his coat and lifted the double door. Matt leaped inside and waited for Purvis to close out the storm. “Jen, Billy!” he shouted.
The little man turned on the garage lights.
Matt stared at the vehicle in disbelief. “That’s not our car.”
Purvis rubbed his palms together. “Sure it is.”
Matt felt another wave of panic. What was going on? “I don’t drive a Porsche.”
“You busted the rear axle this afternoon. I towed you in. It’s fixed, see for yourself.”
“This isn’t my car.”
“It is.”
“Jenny and I drive an SUV!”
“Matt Haskel.” Something in Purvis’ tone shut him up. “There is no Jenny.”
“Are you crazy?”
Purvis shook his head. “Matt, you don’t have a wife, you don’t have a son.”
Matt sensed the wave of panic swell. He rushed the short man. “Where is my wife and boy?” he yelled, lunging for the man, but only grabbing air.
Suddenly, Purvis stood behind him. Calmly, he replied, “They no longer exist in your life, Matt. Look at your watch.”
“What the hell does my watch have to do with—” He stared at the gold face, then looked closer. This wasn’t his watch!
“It’s a Panerai,” Purvis commented. “You bought it on sale for $7200 three years ago.”
Puzzled and angry, Matt shook his head. “Bullshit, I never heard of a Pan…whatever.”
“The Panerai is a luxury line of time pieces.”
Confusion clouded Matt’s expression. “Where’s my Seiko—the one Jenny bought me our second Christmas together?” He ripped the strange watch off his wrist. “Right on the back she had inscribed ‘Our love will last for all time, Forever, Jenny’.” He turned the watch over. Blank. Nothing, except his crazed reflection in miniature.
Purvis shrugged. “Jenny never gave you a Seiko because Jenny never knew you.”
Matt couldn’t stifle the pounding disquiet in his chest. “What are saying? You saw us together, you picked us up out on the road. Billy was with us!”
“There’s no Billy.”
“Damn you, Purvis. What kind of game are you playing?” Genuine fear began to eat at his psyche.
“No game, Matt.”
“Screw St. Claws, it is a game. I have a wife, I have a son, we drive an SUV. We plan on spending Christmas with my in-laws.”
“You have no in-laws. You aren’t married.”
Matt sensed himself losing his grip. He reached for the little driver and Purvis was suddenly by the garage door. Matt stared at the shiny sports car and then his expensive watch. “Tell me what’s going on, Purvis. It’s Rudolph, isn’t it, he’s responsible.”
“You’re responsible, Matt.”
“Dammit, enough, where is Jenny and Billy?” and he flew at Purvis only to crash into the garage door. He whirled and found the little guy posed by the Porsche. “Tell me!” Matt shouted over the wind buffeting the roof and walls. “Tell me!”
“Matt, your old college roommate never had that party.”
“Are you nuts? What party?”
Purvis smiled sadly. “How could there be a Christmas party if there was no Christmas?”
“What?” Matt ran his hands through his damp hair. Nothing’s making sense. Even in the cold he could feel the perspiration breaking out on his skin. He gazed at the small man, unable to stem the rising tide of panic. I wish Christmas never
happened. “Oh no,” he groaned, sliding down against the garage door until he was seated on the cold hard floor.
Purvis squatted to eye level. “You see, Matt, you got what you wanted. Christmas never happened. Your roommate never had that Christmas party, so there was no party for you and Jenny to go to. You two never met that night ten years ago. She never gave you an inscribed Seiko because you didn’t spend that second Christmas together. There was no Christmas.”
Matt stared at the little man in horror.
Purvis tugged at his beard a moment. “Jenny married someone else—”
“No.”
“She had a daughter named Emily—”
“Stop.”
“See Matt, there is no Billy, because you and Jenny weren’t together to have Billy.”
“I said stop!”
Purvis stood. “You have your big house and fast car because you have no family you have to waste Christmas money on. You’re single, and because you spent all your free time working at FAR WEST FORTUNE COOKIES, Mr. Pellete made you part owner. Matt, you’re rich.”
“I said shut up!” Matt stood suddenly. “I don’t believe you. This is a dirty little trick you and Rudolph are playing.”
“Call her,” Purvis offered nonchalantly. “Your phone will work now.” The little guy had removed his cap and Matt saw the pointed little ears. Son of a gun, Purvis was an elf!
A new fear stabbed at Matt’s gut. What if the elf was right? He dialed Jenny’s number, surprised when the signal went through. A woman answered and a sense of relief washed over him. “Jenny,” he blurted out. “It’s Matt”
A pause. “Who?’
“Matt. Your husband. We have a son named Billy…”
“Creep,” and she disconnected.
Matt stared at the number, ensuring he’d dialed correctly. He had. Fear gnawed at his emotions. The voice had not been Jenny’s. He took a step toward Purvis. “Tell me where Jenny is.”
Purvis shook his head. “I’m sorry, Matt.”
“What? Is Jenny all right? Tell me, you have to tell me.” When Purvis didn’t reply, Matt rushed him again. “Tell me where my wife is!” He fell into the exotic sports car, whirling only to find Purvis back by the garage door. “Please, Purvis, tell me, I have to know she’s okay.”
Purvis watched him a long moment. “Sometimes, Matt, what we really wanted, we already had.”
“Just tell me. Tell me,” he pleaded.