Marvin Turner had been running the store floor since seven that morning, and by noon he was ready to legally change his name to “We’re Out of Stock.” It was the Saturday before Christmas, so naturally everything was on fire.

Inventory was late. Parents were cranky. Kids were vibrating like they’d been freebasing candy canes.

And to top it off, Santa was late.

The Santa he’d hired, Bill, was dependable, cheerful, and always early. Today? Nothing. The line of kids waiting for photos stretched halfway down seasonal decor and was threatening to enter sporting goods.

Marvin was about to grab one of the teenage stock boys and shove him into the suit when he heard a soft jingle. The kind that carries. The kind that shouldn’t have echoed in a fluorescent-lit department store.

He turned toward the photo area. Santa was sitting in the chair, like he’d just appeared there.

“Ho, ho, ho!” he belted out.

The kids lit up. Every single one climbed onto his lap without hesitation. Shy ones, cranky ones, the ones who usually melted down, everyone cooperated.

Parents spent money like someone told them cash was expiring tonight.

Marvin hadn’t seen a day this smooth in years.

By late afternoon, he was riding a retail high. Everything was humming.

Then the PA system clicked.

“Marvin Turner, please pick up line one. Marvin Turner, line one.”

His stomach dipped. Calls like this rarely meant something good. Angry customer. Missing parcel. Someone’s kid broke something expensive. He took a breath and headed for the phone anyway.

“This is Marvin.”

A woman’s voice came through, shaky and apologetic.

“Mr. Turner? I’m sorry to bother you. This is Patty, Bill’s wife.”

Marvin frowned. “Bill? My Santa? He’s here. He came in around lunch.”

“No,” she said. “He couldn’t have. Bill… he was in a car accident this morning. He’s been in the hospital all day. I just wanted to call and tell you he wouldn’t make it in. I’m so sorry.”

Marvin stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed him.

“But he’s… he’s here,” he said, confused.

“I’m afraid not,” she replied softly. “Bill will be fine, but he hasn’t left the hospital.”

The call ended.

Marvin stood frozen, then hung up the phone with a shaky hand. He walked back toward the photo set, heart thudding.

The store was slammed. People moved everywhere, but smoother than he had ever seen. No arguments, instead people hugged, laughed and spoke nicely to each other. He had never seen it this… well… joyous.

Christmas usually brings out the worst in people.

He looked across all of the smiling customers and laughing children. This guy in the red suit was still there.

Still smiling and laughing.

“Ho, ho, ho” lighting up everyone around him.

Still greeting every kid like he’d known them forever.

Marvin stepped in close, leaned down, and asked quietly, “Who are you? Really?”

Santa looked up, amused. “Who do you think I am, Marvin? I’m Santa.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling.”

Santa tilted his head. “Marvin… remember what your cardiologist, Dr. Wayne, said. You’ve got to take it easy.”

Marvin froze. A cold pulse crawled down his spine.

“How the hell do you know about my doctor?” he whispered.

Santa smiles and leans into the little girl on his lap. “Run along Alicia, and be good to your little sister now.”

She giggles and bounces off of Santa's lap to run back to her waiting mother.

Marvin steadied himself, trying to regain control. “If you really are Santa, then tell me my daughter’s name.”

Santa chuckled. “Now Marvin… you don’t have a daughter.”

Marvin’s breath caught.

“But your son’s name is Reginald, and you call him Reggie.”

Marvin’s mouth went dry.

Santa leaned in just a touch, lowering his voice.

“And his remote-control car will be waiting for him when he wakes up Christmas morning.”

Marvin straightened slowly, every hair on his arms standing up.

Santa winked and turned back to the next child in line.

“Come on up here Bobby, tell me how that new puppy is doing.”

Marvin just stared.

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