Charming Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

over the marble floor as I stepped back, steaming at the ZZ Top wannabe. And he was auditioning to be an elf? Good luck with that.
    We were cordoned off in a little side salon, but as the line moved up I got a peek through the doors at the rest of the cavernous space—the main selling floor—which was totally empty except for some elegant crystal chandeliers.
    â€œWell, that doesn’t instill much confidence,” I muttered. “They’re opening next week and there’s no merchandise in the store.”
    Most of the people in the line ignored me, but ZZ turned back and squinted toward the sales floor. “I wouldn’t worry.”
    â€œThey don’t have a single piece of furniture. How’s it all going to happen in time?” I thought about that. Were we all wasting our time here? “Have you heard anything about them delaying the opening?” I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially.
    ZZ leaned close and whispered, “No.”
    An annoying little man, that biker dude. I folded my arms and tuned him out, tuned out the entire line of elf applicants and imagined myself in a far more desirable line, arm in arm with women my height, our heads turning and legs kicking precisely, in perfect unison.
    I’d been a part of that line just last Christmas, dancing at Radio City Music Hall. Back then my life had seemed so rich and full, so organized and smooth, moving from the hectic rehearsals to the challenging pace of the daily matinees and evening shows, the sparkling costumes, the lights, the delighted applause of the audience, the fluttery thrill that never failed me each time the curtain rose . . .
    â€œWould you be available to work overtime? Long hours?”
    For last year’s Christmas show we’d done between two and four performances a day . . .
    â€œMiss? We’re hiring only one person for this role.”
    I stared blankly at the polite young man from Personnel. “One elf? Santa’s downsizing this year?”
    â€œActually, all the elf positions have been cast at this time.”
    My heart sank. With my experience in New York, I’d figured this job would be a lock for me.
    Wrong again, dummy-head. It was time to find the line for the Christmas hires. Maybe I could spray colognes in the air or wrap gifts.
    â€œI’m sorry,” the young man said, his deep voice belying his wiry frame. He had smooth, chocolate brown skin and a slightly goofy smile that made me want to adopt him as a kid brother. “I thought you were applying for Mrs. C.”
    â€œMrs. C?” I blinked again, wondering what I’d missed.
    Mr. Personnel cocked his head to the side, his pat smile hinting that he’d repeated this spiel dozens of times this morning. “As Mrs. Claus, you’d be working in Santaland with the help of a team of elves, managing queuing and diverting groups of children with activities, train rides, and whatnot.”
    â€œI can work long hours—I can. I have mucho stamina. Did you see my résumé? I’m a dancer.” Realizing I hadn’t shown him my credentials, I slid a copy out of my portfolio bag. “I’ve even played Mrs. Claus before onstage.” I didn’t mention that every woman onstage had been dressed as Mrs. Claus, but really, did he have to know every detail?
    His face was stern as he read, but suddenly a smile lit his face. “You were a Rockette? Really?”
    I beamed. ZZ was glancing over at me curiously, and I winked at him. “Yup. I mean, yes, I was. I was in the Christmas show last year.”
    â€œThat’s amazing.” Mr. Personnel grinned up at me with such admiration, I thought he’d ask me to autograph his necktie. He stood up, stumbling over his chair as he excused himself and went off to show my résumé to his supervisor.
    The day took a turn for the better at that point, as the interview turned into a real audition. Behind a sliding curtain, a group