The First Tree - Chapter 8

Claus’s Kitchen
Mrs. Claus stood in front of a large gas stove, directing a lecture, with a spatula, to the three tree elves sitting around a long rectangle shaped dining. Up and ready for the day, Mrs. Claus wore an ankle length pink skirt with matching embroidered sweater. She was a short, dainty women. This morning, her hair was neatly pinned with curled tendrils cascading down the sides of her round face, accented by a tiny set of round bifocals perched on the tip of her tiny nose.
Christmas, to Mrs. Claus, meant good smells, music, and lots of traditions. The combination of such was essential of making her Christmas complete. The smells that permeated every corner of her home during the holiday season were a tapestry of hot cinnamon, cloves, apples, and fresh pine.
Mrs. Claus was often teased around the North Pole for her constant humming of Christmas carols during the month of December. But the behavior was addictive and within the first week everyone had followed suit and was humming or singing as they worked.
"Bring the tree in through the west hall.... very carefully. And don't bend those branches," She chided. "I love those long beautiful branches. Remember, I would like to have the tree in the study before lunch." She brought her spatula up, commanding the elves attention. "In its stand and ready to be decorated."
"Yes, Mrs. Claus," the elves responded dutifully.
"And then collect my Christmas decorations from the storage sheds and meet my in the study by no later then 2:00 pm sharp. But don't hurry! I don't want you kids to rush. Be extremely careful! Remember, you will be carrying my entire Christmas in those boxes." Mrs. Claus was emphasizing each point with a downward swing of her spatula, splattering pancake batter, in tiny dots, across the counter.
"Good morning sweetheart," Santa bellowed, from the bottom of the stairs, forgetting the frayed pocket momentarily. He stepped from the last stair onto the irregularly shaped tiles which formed the kitchen floor. Mrs. Claus turned her attention from the elves at the table to Santa who ambled over, bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"Good morning yourself. I began to think you had forgotten what week this was." Mrs. Claus retorted. Santa just smiled and took the plate of pancakes that Mrs. Claus presented him, walking to his chair at the head of the table.
"I see that you have my elves out getting your tree again this year," Santa quipped, winking at the elves, who smiled through mouths full of food.
"Santa!" Mrs. Claus turned back toward him, hands on her hips in a mock pout, "Today will be very light, all they will need to do is simply retrieve the tree, bring it in, and then get my boxes of decorations from the sheds."
"Dear, don’t forget, I’ve seen you work on your Christmas trees. You will have these kids busy making adjustments and moving objects from here to there until long after I’m gone on Christmas Eve." Santa chided, his eyes twinkled.
"Well, you do want it to be right, don't you? Mrs. Claus asked softly. Sant smiled.
"Oh, of course dear, you do just what you feel you need." Turning to the elves, who were watching their interactions with amused smirks, he instructed. "Will you please help Mrs. Claus with whatever she needs this week? You are, of course, formally released from any further preparatory duties in the workshop"
"That was our plan Santa," the elves chimed, and as if on cue, they all stood up from the table and cleared their plates.
"Mrs. Claus, thank you for the wonderful breakfast. We’ll be on our way so that we can have the tree ready and in on time."
Santa watched them file out and called after them as they left the kitchen, "Thank you."
Santa turned and began eating his breakfast in earnest. Mrs. Claus walked over to where Santa was sitting and patted him on the shoulder. Noise from the hall caused them both to turn. In the doorway, a new group of elves, dressed warmly, with scarves and mittens, ready for the cold winter day, entered the kitchen, excitedly anticipating Mrs. Claus’s famous pancake breakfast. Santa watched with amusement as Mrs. Claus directed them to the table and immediately began peppering each of them with questions of their day. She then began dispensed wise council about proper diet and work habits along with the plates of food. Santa had observed that, through the years, the elves at the North Pole enjoyed the motherly approach that Mrs. Claus, so often, took with them. Santa knew that the elves loved her deeply and would often seek her advice.
As the latest group of elves gathered around the table, they wished Santa a good morning, asking his advice, confirming projects, and expressing excitement about the week. Mrs. Claus continued to serve heaping plates of steaming pancakes, large pads of golden creamy butter, and a pitcher of rich maple syrup, all of which was readily devoured. She then returned to her stove and continued to cook, knowing that there would be many such groups to arrive at her table that morning.
Santa was wiping his mouth after finishing the last bite of breakfast when Edger, an elf who served as Santa’s personal secretary and who took care of and categorized all of Santa’s correspondence, entered the kitchen holding a tattered piece of paper.
Edger was tall and well proportioned for an elf. His clothes were constantly pressed and neat and his vest was always buttoned. He wore small oval wire rim spectacles and kept his beard cut short and meticulously trimmed.
Santa cleared his throat before speaking, "Morning Edger, ...have the number of Dear Santa letters slowing as of yet?" Santa observed the business-like look on Edger’s face, a constant fixture. Edger was always working, a compulsion which drove Santa to try to find ways to get him to relax.
"The letters are still arriving by the sleigh full. If it’s like most years, we will not see it slow for a few days yet"
"Edger, please sit down and eat something, Mrs. Claus has outdone herself again." Santa patted the chair next to his.
"I appreciate that sir, maybe in a little while, if I get a minute. I still have quite a few things to file and catalog. But I was reading through the correspondence this morning and found one you might find of particular interest. It’s from little Whitney Safford."
"Whitney? What did she have to say?" Santa’s eyes crinkled with interest. "Did she have a Christmas request?"
"She did actually.....Sir, I thought you would probably want to read it for yourself." Edger handed the simple, hand-written note to Santa, who began fishing for the eyeglasses perched on his forehead. Sliding them down to the bridge of his nose, he held the ragged little piece of paper to his face and read it aloud.
Dear Santa,
I know that you are busy right now. You always bring really good presents. But this year mom and dad said that you probably wouldn’t be able to bring much. They said that times get hard at the north pole just like it is here. So I thought, if you hadn’t already made something, could you maybe make me a doll.... could she have dark brown hair with long curls and a pink bow? I’ve never had a real doll before. It doesn’t have to be special or fancy. I could even make her clothes from the scraps that mom brings home. Thanks for always remembering me and my little brothers. Merry Christmas
Love, Whitney
When Santa was finished, he pushed his glasses aside, wiped his eyes with the back of his thumb, and sighed.
"What is it dear?" Mrs. Claus said, stepping forward while wiping her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. "Who is Whitney Safford?"
Santa grinned with some sadness at Mrs. Claus and spoke with an uncharacteristic softness, "As Edger already knows, Whitney is a sweet, dear little girl who lives with her family in a tiny cinder block home, near a thick wooded forest. She is the oldest of three children, and will be eight years old in February. She has two little brothers, Zack who’s five and Jeffrey who just turned three."
As he spoke, Santa gathered up his juice glass and silverware, setting them on his empty plate. "Her father has worked for years at a local factory until becoming very ill. He has been confined to a bed for months. Her mother, to earn money for the family, has begun sewing dresses for a ladies shop in the nearby village. Unfortunately, She is often required to work long hours."
At this point, Santa paused to carry his plate to the sink. He then shuffled back, with a swish of slippers against cold tile, to his seat at the table. As he sat down he noticed that the elves at the table had all stopped eating and were waiting for him to continue. Santa appreciated their apparent curiosity and continued.
"Whitney has been required to shoulder the bulk of the housework, including the wash and the cooking. She has been a wonderful girl this year. She deserves much more. But if she wants a doll, it will be the best doll we can make."
"Santa, I checked my records to see the nature of the presents prepared for the Safford children? According to my log and as per the request of their parents, each was given a set of simple winter clothes and a square of holiday chocolate."
"We can do better then that!" Santa exclaimed, dismayed at the apparent lack of toys set aside for the children. "Edgar, give the toy department an assignment to add a few of their newest toys to the gifts for the Safford boys." And after a moment of hesitation he added, "And throw in a little set of drums. That should wake up that house on Christmas morning."
Edgar took notes feverishly on a tiny pad of paper that he had produced from a pocket. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he wrote down each of Santa’s additions. It went against his nature to make, in his opinion, last minute changes to a gift log that he had crafted meticulously over an entire year. It wasn’t easy keeping track of who was nice and who wasn’t and then combining that with millions of requests that he insisted on sorting personally. Santa seemed to think nothing of adding this or that at the last minute. But there were enormous coordination efforts that had to be orchestrated between the construction departments and the wrapping and labeling department just to complete these last minute changes. Ultimately, If you divert from the list then you were asking for errors was Edgar’s philosophy.
Santa watched Edgar with interest, "Edgar!" Santa called brightly. His nose lifted from the pad of paper and his eyes made contact with Santa.
"Edgar, just relax. It’s Christmas! The extra toys and drums won’t throw off the system. You do a great job. My only request of you is that you relax a little. Nothing bad is going to happen to Christmas. Why don’t you delegate some of your responsibilities this week and take a break.
Edgar smiled reluctantly, "Maybe in January, Santa." Returning the focus to the task at hand, Edgar continued. "What about the doll, Sir? You didn’t mention that you wanted me to add a doll."
Santa grinned broadly, again prominently displayed his rosy cheeks. "That request will be handled by me personally." He declared. He then waved the letter in the air. "You won’t have to worry about keeping track of this one on your list. It will be one of my personal projects!"
With that, Santa folded the letter carefully and slid it into his right breast pocket. In doing so, his finger brushed against the frayed hole along the side. Casually, he looked down and then grimaced, as the sight reminded him of his bedroom and the frustrating discovery of the hole.
"Sweetheart!" Santa stood and turned so his right pocket was towards Mrs. Claus. "Look at my pocket! I’m getting a hole in my favorite pajamas. A large hole!" An elf giggled from behind him at the table and another whispered in a teasing tone "..favorite pajamas!.." Santa turned sharply, looking back at the elves who abruptly sat erect, trying desperately to stifle their laughter.
"That's right," Santa retorted, turning back to Mrs. Claus, "They are my favorite pajamas, and now the pocket is practically falling off!"
"Now honey," Mrs. Claus cooed, "It doesn’t look at all that bad. It’s certainly not about to fall off. You have the green ones that you can wear until I can fix these. Just leave them in the sewing room and I will have them back for you in no time."