Free The Bark Before Christmas by Laurien Berenson Page B

a formal parlor, is just inside the front door.
    Harriet was at her desk when I arrived. The headmaster is a busy man and I expected I’d have to wait. Instead, I was shown right in.
    Mr. Hanover was seated behind his imposingly large desk when I entered the room. Like everything else in the room, it was a statement piece, chosen to convey a sense of tasteful prosperity and enduring dependability. Other rooms at the school might buzz with activity or hum to the insistent pulse of technology, but not the headmaster’s office. His realm was an oasis of calm.
    Russell Hanover II is well aware of the impression he conveys. His brown hair, now thinning on the top, is impeccably styled. His suits are custom tailored in England. The wire-frame glasses are a new addition; they lend his bland features a bit of distinction. Their look is slightly non-traditional. I think his wife, Bitsy, must have picked them out.
    Immediately Mr. Hanover rose to his feet and came out from behind his desk to greet me. We met in the middle of the Aubusson carpet.
    â€œMs. Travis, welcome. I know you’ve been busy. Thank you for making time to see me.” He swept his hand to one side, indicating a leather chair that sat beside his desk. “Please, have a seat. Everything is going well?”
    â€œVery well,” I said.
    Considering the various scrapes I’ve gotten myself into at Howard Academy in the past, I’m not above shading the facts if I have to. This time I was happy I could answer the question truthfully. I sat down and folded my hands primly in my lap.
    â€œWe’ve had a bit of a wrinkle with regard to the bazaar,” Mr. Hanover said. “And I thought it my duty to keep you informed.”
    â€œOh?” I leaned forward in my seat. “What happened?”
    â€œI think we can both agree that the presence of Santa Claus at a Christmas bazaar is a necessity. An intrinsic requirement, you might say.”
    â€œOf course,” I said. “Go on.”
    â€œFirst thing this morning, I was made aware of a message that had been left on the school’s answering machine overnight. It seems that the Santa Claus hired by your predecessor had a sudden change of plans, forcing him to cancel his engagement.”
    Well, crap, I thought. My favorite thing about the entire bazaar was the photo booth. Not only that, but it was sure to be a popular attraction. And now, a mere twenty-four hours before he was due to appear, my Santa Claus had gone AWOL?
    Abruptly I sat up and squared my shoulders. The bazaar was my responsibility. There had to be a way to fix this.
    â€œI’ll get right on it,” I said quickly. “I can make some calls.”
    â€œHarriet spent most of the morning doing just that,” Mr. Hanover informed me. “As you might imagine, two weeks before Christmas, anyone with even a passing resemblance to Saint Nick is already booked up.”
    A burst of adrenaline propelled me to my feet. “I’ll find somebody,” I told him. I’d slap a red suit and a white beard on Sam if I had to. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
    â€œI admire your dedication to duty, Ms. Travis. But a mere ten minutes ago, the situation seems to have resolved itself.”
    I had started to head for the door. Now I stopped and slowly turned around. “How?”
    â€œWith what appears to be a rather large stroke of luck. A man named Chris Tindall called and said that he’d heard we were looking for a Santa Claus. He was free tomorrow to appear at our bazaar and I hired him on the spot. Thus I’m happy to report the Santa crisis has come to an end.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful,” I said with a touch more enthusiasm than I actually felt. The unexpected good news almost felt like a letdown. “Do we know anything about this new Santa Claus?”
    â€œOnly that he’s available,” Mr. Hanover replied. “Under the present