so thoroughly it was almost impossible to see the greenery underneath. In front of it was a big, familiar chair on a low dais, partially covered with a piece of white felt.
I knew that chair—I’d played on it when I was a little boy. It was the chair from the mayor’s office, a heavy wooden antique that was uncomfortable as hell after so many years of people squishing down its cushion, but beautifully carved. I’d seen my father sitting there in it so many times, not the quarrelsome beer-guzzling drunk from the grocery store, but the respectable man he’d once been, putting a smile on for everyone and wearing a Santa hat to the office every day the week of Christmas. It was almost dizzying to see some other man sitting in that chair instead.
Sitting in it was a man in a traditional Santa suit—fluffy beard and hair, red hat, bulging pillow belly—and standing by his side was…a beaver wearing an elf cap and an apron?
Oh my god. Was this Edwina the Blissful Beaver that Dominic had told me about? I couldn’t have asked for a better distraction and bit my lip to keep from laughing as I took the costume in. It was a…well, a beaver, big and brown, with a flat tail that dragged on the ground and huge eyes surrounded by enormous eyelashes. It had a pointed green cap stuck on its head, and now that I looked closely, I could see the white felt collar around its neck in the shape of a snowflake, and the green points that had been tied onto the tops of its feet in an imitation of curly elf slippers.
“Ooh!” Marnie shouted happily. “Edwina is here!” She started to dart forward, but I reeled her back into place in line.
“We have to wait our turn,” I reminded her. “Santa wouldn’t want us to cut in line, would he?”
“No,” she sighed. “And neither would Edwina. She came and talked to our class right before the holiday break, and she said it’s very important to be polite to people, especially our family, especially during the holidays.”
I nodded. “She’s a very smart beaver.”
“I think so, too.” I managed to maneuver my phone so that I could get a picture of the girls standing together with Elf Edwina in the background and sent it to Dominic, along with a few crying-with-laughter emojis.
Edwina was working the crowd, keeping kids entertained and parents busy—not like they needed the help—by walking the line and handing each child a neon Post-it note in the shape of a snowflake and a crayon. “Don’t forget to write a list to Santa!” she said cheerily as she handed the supplies out. “You wouldn’t want to forget anything once you get up there to talk to him.”
“Hi! Hi, Edwina!” Marnie said as soon as the cartoon-like beaver got to us. “Hi! I’m Marnie. Do you remember me? You talked to my class at school!”
“Marnie Bell!” Edwina exclaimed, putting her paws on her jiggly hips. “I do remember you! And this is your sister Stephanie, right?”
“Steph,” Marnie corrected, but she was still beaming.
“And…” The beaver looked at me. Or, at least, the person who was inside the beaver looked at me—I could see there was a piece of mesh in the middle of Edwina’s smiling, buck-toothed mouth that let the wearer look straight ahead. It made the costume’s eyes slant toward the ceiling, but I don’t think anyone else noticed. “Oh my goodness, Maxfield? Maxfield Robertson?”
I recognized that voice. I hadn’t known her well before I left, but Mary Clawson had been a vocal presence at town hall meetings, most of which my father had made me attend to “get a feel for politics.” Mostly, it had made me loathe politics and all the weird, passive-aggressive ways they played out, but some people had been consistently nice, and Mrs. Clawson was one of them. She had feelings on the subject of niceness, and they weren’t always obvious ones. She’d also led the charge when it came to a recall election against my father.
“Hi, Edwina,” I said, sticking to her character even though a big part of me wanted to reach out and shake her hand…paw. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Max.”
“Max…yes, of course.” She pulled herself together quickly. “How lovely to meet you! Welcome to Edgewood! We’re so happy you’re here.” She handed each of the girls a crayon and a note then paused. “I…gracious. It really is very good