Poles Apart Read Online Free PDF

that
she could see his smile. White fuzz covered his face except for his eyes, nose
and the tops of his cheeks. And even some of those features where partially
hidden by the spectacles propped low on his nose and resting on his cheeks.
Rather, he smiled with his eyes.
    “Miss No Name from Nowhere? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha,
that is a first.”
    Ha-ha-ha? What happened to Ho-ho-ho?
    “Come sit, Miss Name.” He patted the
stool beside him. “Or should I call you No? Ha-ha-ha.”
    “No.” Really?
    Eyes wide, Sarah walked across the
wooden floor, taking mental notes. Large puffy slippers. Red hat and shirt.
White apron. Likes to cook? Long hair—hippie? Hip? Mega-beard. Last
shaved—1920? She drew a smiley face in her head.
    “Sit down, No. I don’t bite. I promise.”
    She slipped onto the stool, heart
pounding like one of those teambuilding drumming sessions she’d attended when
she still worked in the corporate world—the days before her first bestseller
that launched her writing career.
    Santa was nothing like she’d expected.
On outward appearances he was, but she had never imagined he’d be this young. And
nothing could’ve prepared her for those piercing blue eyes that stared right
through her, lighting up with his smile.
    Sarah glanced at his hand holding onto
the armrest. Dead giveaway. Beneath all the red and white trimmings, overgrown
mustache and beard, and bushy eyebrows, Saint Nick wasn’t much older than
herself.
     

     
    Who was this dark-haired beauty? Where
was she from? ‘No Name’ and ‘Nowhere’ didn’t help Niklas one bit, intriguing
and humorous as they were.
    He’d try again. “So, No, I don’t
recognize that Nowhere accent of yours. It’s like nothing I’ve ever come
across. Very different. Not quite Australian. Won’t you tell me where you’re
from and who you are?”
    “Never mind who I am, Nick. What I want
to know is who exactly you are.”
    She knows my name? And what does she
mean by ‘who exactly I am’?
    “I’m not sure what you mean.”
    She opened the red journal she carried.
“Let’s see…I believe your real name is Joulupukki ? Is that true?”
    “Ha-ha-ha. I get it. You’re interviewing
Santa?”
    “Yes.” She tipped her chin upward. “If
you don’t object. I am the last person. They cut the queue after me.”
    “Sure. Why not?” He leaned closer to see
what she was writing and spotted the sketches on the opposite page. “Those are
really good. Did you draw them?”
    “I did.” She moved her hand, covering
her artwork. Extending a finger, she tapped the page. “ Joulupukki ?”
    “Are you a reporter?”
    “No, a writer. A novelist.”
    “Ah. And what kind of novels do you
write, Miss No Name from Nowhere?”
    She gave a sigh, soft enough not to be
rude, loud enough for him to hear. “Mr. Claus, this is my interview, so
if you don’t mind, I’ll ask the questions. Joulupukki ? Please.”
    “Ha-ha-ha, yes. Joulupukki is my
real name...in Finland. Elsewhere in the English-speaking world I’m simply
known as Father Christmas or Santa.”
    “Oh.”
    Niklas watched the blush rise from her
neck until it reached her cheeks. “Is it too hot in here for you?”
    Giving her head a quick shake, she
lowered her gaze to the journal and scanned her notes. Choosing her next
question, no doubt.
    “Rovaniemi—it’s your home?”
    “No. Rovaniemi is where I have my
office. My home is in Korvatunturi, north-east of this town.”
    “I see.” She scribbled down the name,
not getting the spelling quite right.
    Niklas leaned closer.
“K-o-r-v-a-t-u-n-t-u-r-i.”
    She corrected as he spelled, then
rewrote the word, scratching out her first attempt.
    “And your workshops? Where your elves
make all the toys for...Christmas? Where are those located?”
    “Is this a spy novel? You’re certainly
digging into sensitive territory.”
    Niklas waited for a response as she
tapped the notebook with her pen.
    Finally she looked up. “Romance.”
    Romance? As long as she