Page 6 of Naughty Elf: Aster

“Listen. I came to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” I asked, not knowing why I was attempting to talk since no words came out. He couldn’t hear me—except he did. Did that mean others could as well? Or maybe that was an elf thing. It had to be an elf thing.

“Listen, when I put the salt in the sugar, I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“What kind of favor was that? Making me a trinket, possibly forever? That’s not a favor.” Ernie and I had always been the bestof friends. Not in a million years would I have suspected that he’d sabotage me like that.

“I heard—I heard that this was a way elves found their ‘one.’ And you’ve been alone for so long, I thought—I thought you’d be transported down here, and, the very first day, someone would pick you up, say, ‘You’re mine,’ take you home, and boom! You’d fall in love, have lots of babies, and forget all about the North Pole.”

He was talking a mile a minute, the way he did when he got nervous. In this case, he had every reason to be.

“I’ll come back in the morning, when they’re open, and I’ll buy you, and then we’ll figure things out.”

“Just take me now!” Every second here felt like hours.

“I can’t do that. That would be stealing, and if I steal, what’s gonna happen to me? I’ll be sitting on the shelf next to you, and then I can’t help you at all.”

“Stupid logic.” Accurate, but stupid.

“Listen, I really am sorry.”

“I know you are. I just— This is awful, and it’s not all your fault. I should have paid attention. Salt and sugar aren’t the same. There would’ve been hints all along, but I was too busy singing and rolling and frosting to notice.” For some reason, I wasn’t even mad at him. I wished he hadn’t done it, sure. But anger? No. He meant well, even if he showed it in one of the most horrible ways ever.

“I’m really gonna make it right. I’ll be here as soon as they open,” he promised. “Well, after I get my to-do list done. I don’t want to get in trouble there either.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He set me back down, this time on a slightly higher shelf. Now I was looking at cookbooks. There were worse things. Or maybe it was knowing he was coming back, making everything sparkly—or at least more sparkly.

In the morning, the old woman came through again, and customers filtered in shortly after. Each time the door opened, I crossed my fingers and toes that it was Ernie. Well, I didn’t really cross them, since they didn’t move, but the thought was there. Then, I heard him. Ernie was here.

The old woman said hello, and Ernie’s voice echoed back, “Hello.” It was better than any Christmas carol ever.

But before he came down the aisle, some little fingers wrapped around me.

Chapter Five

Wolfe

Noel passed by the toy store, not even giving the overpriced and over-plastic place a second glance. I tried to keep him outside and interested in more natural toys since we shifters preferred those things to the plastic all around us. But once inside the secondhand store, there was no stopping his curiosity or enthusiasm.

The vintage toy section piqued his interest more than anything I could have bought him brand new. Still, he passed on every toy, even the cute wooden, hand-painted top he asked me to test out for him.

He liked those things. They made him smile. But he didn’t want to take anything home. Until we got to the Christmas section. The metal shelves with diamond-shaped cutouts were filled with Christmas items of all kinds. Stocking holders. Christmas ornaments. Most of them were broken or at least damaged, but a few were cute. I felt sad for the ones that were personalized by someone who cared and then discarded to sit here. No one would buy them because the words didn’t fit their situation, but they were too beautiful to trash.

What a shame.

“How about the toy soldiers?” I asked. “Look how their mouths work.” I demonstrated that and mentioned how cool their hats and beards were, but he didn’t like them.

“I like elves. I’m trying to find an elf,” he said with a good bit of resolve. It actually surprised me. Noel hadn’t ever shown any interest in elves and never wanted one of those creepy ones that were posed and contorted on shelves.

“Not the one…” I showed him a picture on my phone, and he curled his top lip. Jeez. The kid knew what he wanted. “No, Dad. Not that. That’s for babies. I want a real elf.”

“A real elf? I’m not sure if they have them here, pup.”

He put his fists on his hips and furrowed his brow. “I know they do. Can you give me some space to look, please.”

I shook my head and wandered to the next aisle where I could see him through the shelves, but he had his “space.” He was growing so much, not just physically but getting more mature. I wanted to be the best dad I could, and giving him the space to grow was part of it.