Free The Santa Society by Kristine McCord Page A

business magnets for repair services on the side of the refrigerator. I scan the vinyl rectangles until I find one for Double-S Heating and Air. It guarantees same day service and twenty-four hour response. Thank You.
    I call it.
    A man answers after the fifth ring. He sounds ancient. “Double-S, this is Nick.”
    “Hi, I really need help here. My heater just quit working. It’s getting really cold.” I sound like I’m calling 911.
    “Oh, sorry to hear it.” He launches into a coughing fit. There is a pause, followed by a garbled wet hack. It sounds like he’s spitting. Finally, he clears his throat and continues. “What’s your address little lady?”
    I tell him my address and wait while he chokes on another cough.
    “Is that the Sinclair house? Adelaide Sinclair?”
    “Yes, it is.” Relief washes over me. He knows my mother. He’ll be here tonight. I’m sure of it.
    “I see.” I hear papers shuffling then a brief silence. “The earliest I can be there is tomorrow afternoon.”
    No, no, no, no. “I’ll freeze by then.”
    “If I remember correctly, you have a fireplace. A big one. I’d suggest you put it to use.”
    He’s right. I do have a fireplace—a big one. But the idea of trying to set a fire in it freaks me out. I’ve never actually done it before. And what will I burn? I have no firewood. And the chimney hasn’t been used in years. Birds probably live in it.
    “I see here your fireplace was serviced recently—yesterday, as a matter of fact. It should be ready for a nice warm fire.”
    “No, that’s impossible. I haven't done anything to it.”
    “Hmmm. Well, it was definitely serviced yesterday. See, we also own Double-S chimney services. The Sinclair house is on a contract. Has been since 1987.”
    I consider this. They must have done it when I went to the salon—which means I’ll be getting yet another unexpected bill for that too.
    “Do you happen to know what the bill will cost?”
    “There isn’t one, dear. Mrs. Sinclair paid it in advance last year, through the next five years as a matter of fact.”
    The next five years? Why would she do that? She knew she was sick—knew she wouldn’t be here. The questions circle in my thoughts. Then one answer settles in the forefront.
    She thought I might be here, or at least, she hoped I would be. But why the chimney? We never use it. I know we didn’t last year. But I have no idea what she’s done for the other ten winters. I wasn’t here. My chest feels tight.
    “So, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon?” He coughs again.
    “Yes, tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Good. Merry Christmas, Erin.”
    “Merry Christ—” There is a click, and he’s gone. Erin? Did he really just call me Erin?
    I’m certain he did.
    Klaus emerges from the hallway. I see his big head in profile as he scans the living room looking for me. When he sees me standing in the kitchen door, he wags his tail.
    “What’s the matter, buddy, getting cold?”
    He wags faster. His amber eyes watch me intently, listening.
    “We’re going to have to build a fire, big guy. I hope you know how.”
    Klaus looks at me with an eager face. He probably thinks we’re going bye-bye .
    He walks over to the fireplace and lowers his bottom to the floor. His tail thumps against the area rug. Did he really understand me?
    I shake my head, wondering if he also knows what mother was thinking when she planned to keep the chimney serviced for five years after her death.
     
    I watch the tiny flame ignite and shrink as it works at the corners of the scrapped two by fours I found in the shed. It creeps along the paper I shoved there too, pushing the burned edges closer to the wood. As a last resort, I have a bottle of lighter fluid on the kitchen counter. I blow soft puffs of air as I kneel on the cold brick hearth. With no idea what I am doing, I pray for the best.
    The flame begins to die again. I glance at the small pile of spent matches. Why let them go to waste? I scoop them up and