Suzi’s foot pressed the accelerator too hard, the engine of Aiden’s truck rumbling its protest under her grip. Early-morning traffic blurred around her, but the tension in her chest demanded speed—like she was driving a DeLorean, hoping to hit 88 miles an hour to outrun her own chaotic thoughts. It hardly seemed real that no cops were stopping her, not even a flicker of siren lights, despite her definitely breaking every posted limit.
By the time she squealed into the hospital lot, the clock on the dash insisted she still had time to spare. She exhaled, slamming the truck door behind her, almost expecting to see her own earlier self on the sidewalk, given all the bizarre time-hopping she and Darcy had been doing. The notion left a knot of worry—and something else—coiled in her gut.
Would there be another me around the corner? she wondered as she crossed the lobby and hit the elevator button for the ICU floor. The thought gnawed at her all the way up. The lift stopped frequently, taking on or dropping off staff in scrubs, some yawning from a night shift, others bright-eyed to start the day. Suzi’s mind kept circling the concept of multiple Suzis, multiple timelines—too many paradoxes to list.
What if Aiden saw another Suzi? That question burned. Would he even know the difference? If it’s still me, does that mean it’s cheating? The puzzle seemed so tangled she couldn’t find an answer.
A soft voice in her head broke into her thoughts. “I don’t think it’d matter to him,” Judith said. “He already knows we come as a collection. It’d just be double his fun.”
Annie’s tone rose with a playful purr. “Could be double our fun too, if we wanted to fool around with ourselves. Nothing like self-love, right?”
Spike interjected, “Every time travel movie says you can’t touch yourself if you’re from another timeline. Something about molecules colliding and annihilating each other.”
Suzi had been so inwardly focused she hadn’t noticed a hospital doctor in the corner of the elevator. She murmured automatically, “But this is real life, not a movie.”
“Excuse me?” the doctor asked, brows pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”
Heat flushed Suzi’s cheeks. “I’m fine,” she said with an apologetic chuckle. “Talking to myself, sorry.” The doors slid open onto the children’s cancer ward, not her intended stop, but she stepped out anyway to escape the doctor’s uncomfortable, curious stare.
Annie’s mental voice resumed, “We could fool around with Darcy, you know. I’m sure Aiden wouldn’t mind.”
Another persona chimed in—James—his voice lilting with amusement. “I bet Darcy wouldn’t mind either. And I wouldn’t mind if we fooled around with Bear.”
Suzi’s face scrunched in embarrassment as she headed for the nearby elevator bank, pressing the up button again. “Can we stick to the subject, please?” she thought, desperation creeping in.
Suzanne echoed, “Which subject is that?”
Annie tried for a mock-upper-crust accent. “I believe it was: can we fool around with another version of ourselves, should time travel spawn duplicates?”
A bell dinged, and the arrow above the new set of elevator doors lit up. Suzi stepped closer, deciding that yes, this time she’d go to the correct floor. “No, it was—” she started, but then the doors opened, cutting her off.
A large man emerged, practically filling the lift with his broad frame. He wore a bright red suit trimmed with white fur, polished black boots, white gloves, and a lush, silver beard. The ensemble screamed Santa, especially with Christmas only two weeks away.
“Ho, ho, ho!” he boomed, swinging a bulging green canvas bag over his shoulder. Its seams strained with an apparent excess of packages inside.
Suzi felt a strange surge of nostalgia. She remembered countless holiday seasons with her kids, them clamoring to see Santa, listing toys they wanted. The memory made her chest flutter with warmth.
“How are you, young lady?” the man asked, meeting her gaze.
In that instant, Suzi might as well have been six years old again. Her eyes shone. “I’m good, Santa. How are you?”
He offered a candy cane, seemingly pulled from thin air. She took it without hesitation, grinning like a starry-eyed child.
“You’re on my list!” he teased, voice jolly. “You’d better be nice!”
“I’m trying,” Suzi said softly, stepping aside so he could pass.
Annie’s internal voice practically shouted at him, “I’m naughty!” but of course, Suzi was the only one who heard it.
Santa had barely moved another step when the canvas bag ripped along a seam, its contents raining down around him. Colorful boxes and packages scattered every which way.
“Noooo!” the old man cried, trying to catch the last few in vain.
Suzi’s shoulders slumped. Fuck, I’m never going to see Aiden on time, she thought, then inwardly sighed. There was no skipping out on this. She had to help the guy. She bent down, gathering the scattered gifts alongside him, wishing wholeheartedly for just a shred more time.
Minutes later, with a nurse’s help and the loan of a hospital wheelchair, Suzi found herself accompanying Santa to the children’s ward. Just a few minutes, she reassured herself. I’ll only be a minute. But one look at the kids’ faces changed any intention of rushing away. The moment Santa entered each room, the children brightened, their eyes wide with excitement that momentarily eclipsed their pain.
He introduced Suzi only as his “helper elf,” and the two of them spent longer than she’d meant to, talking with each child and their parents. Several times, tears shone in the adults’ eyes when Santa pulled a gift out. No name tags or labels marred the wrapping, yet each package he selected seemed perfect for the child who opened it.
Initially, Suzi assumed Santa must be part of the hospital staff, intimately familiar with the kids, knowing each of their names as they entered. Then, she noticed their names on the dry-erase boards in each room. Still, the absolute rightness of every present struck her as oddly magical.
Suzi quickly put the idea out of her head that something supernatural was at play and continued the fascination of the make-believe.
As the last patient—little Dennis Pierson, stage 4 acute myeloblastic leukemia—unwrapped a bright blue Care Bear, Suzi’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen. Nick had texted: “Doyle called out again. I’ll be a bit late. You okay without me for a while?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Her gaze jumped to the time—7:47 a.m. “Shit,” she whispered. She was due at work. So much for seeing Aiden. A wave of disappointment tugged at her chest.
In the room, Dennis clutched his new bear with a smile so radiant it seemed to light the walls. Suzi hesitated by the door, her mind torn. Then she tugged on Santa’s sleeve. “Hey, Santa, I—”
“You’ve got to go,” he finished, eyes twinkling. “You’ll be late for work.” He patted her hand gently with his gloved palm. “Thank you for your help, Suzi, and I’m sorry you missed your time with Aiden.”
She froze. Her breath caught in her throat. How does he know about Aiden? She swallowed. “It’s…okay. I was glad to be here.”
Leaving the children’s ward felt heavier than she expected. She strode toward the elevators, shoulders tense, her thoughts replaying the moment Santa used her name. She was certain she hadn’t told him. The realization bloomed into a dull panic. He knew everything. She wanted to turn around, demand answers, but her phone reminder of the funeral home kept buzzing in her mind.
She jammed the lobby button. As she watched the floors tick by, the scenario replayed over and over—He knew I was here for Aiden. Her heart pounded as she imagined confronting him, but the elevator’s slow descent cornered her into the logic of time. She was already on the edge of tardiness.
The second the doors opened, she sprinted through the lobby and out to the parking lot, The elevator doors opened, and she ran through the hospital lobby and the parking lot like she was being chased by a zombified Usain Bolt who was being chased by a Barry Allen that might eat zombies. Jesus, I’m a walking Christmas cliché, she thought. Another part of her mind wondered if Santa really might have been someone more…celestial, or simply an unexplainable holiday miracle.
Traffic was thicker now—Friday morning rush in full swing. Yet somehow, cars moved aside at opportune moments, letting her weave through. Green lights lined up like a parted sea for her. Some buried instinct made her suspect she wasn’t traveling alone; an otherworldly hint teased at her senses.
She pulled into the funeral home lot just as the clock on the dash radio flipped to 8:01, breathless but triumphant. Record fucking time, she thought. She hopped down from the truck just as Gracie Lynn and Gracie Jo—both a few minutes late themselves—hurried in behind her, venting about slow coffee baristas and bungled orders.
Before long, the day melded into a standard routine: phone calls, scheduling, greeting grieving families. But Suzi couldn’t banish the image of Santa’s kind eyes or the pang that she’d missed seeing Aiden again. Nor could she shake the quiet wonder that seemed to cling to her, an undercurrent of possibility lingering after that strange, short morning.
* * * * *
By the time Suzi got back to the funeral home from the last service of the day, she felt wrung out. Her thoughts kept circling the strange, surreal morning and Santa’s baffling knowledge of Aiden. It left her so off-balance that she’d barely focused on her work.
When she and Gracie Jo finally returned to the mortuary’s main office, Gracie Jo eyed her with concern. “You okay, Suzi? You seem—I dunno. Distracted.”
Suzi forced a mild smile. “Just a bizarre morning, that’s all. Got a lot on my mind. How’re you holding up?”
The younger woman’s face lit instantly. “I’m excited about the art show tonight!”
Art show. The words made Suzi’s stomach flip. She’d completely forgotten. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.
“I got a nice blue and black gown,” Gracie Jo went on, bouncing on her toes. “I hope it’s not too much. What’re you wearing?”
Suzi winced, feeling guilty. She hadn’t planned on a formal outfit at all. “I was thinking jeans and a sweatshirt, but if you’re dressing up, maybe I should too. Otherwise, you’ll be the only one. I’ll see if I can find something presentable.”
Gracie Jo let out a squeal, literally dancing with excitement. Suzi couldn’t help smiling as they ducked into the embalming room to finish up a few tasks. Eventually, Gracie Lynn paged Suzi from the desk, asking her to pick up a call.
Suzi grabbed the phone, half expecting an unhappy client. “Hello, Dr. Washington,” she teased lightly.
“Don’t,” Gracie Lynn groaned on the other end. “I’m not a doctor yet, smartass. Listen, Dad wants you in his office. Eloy’s in there, too.”
Suzi felt a spike of nerves. “Why didn’t he call me himself?”
“Because Eloy’s in there,” was all Gracie Lynn said, tone subdued. “He said hurry.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She dashed up the hall, exchanged a wink with Gracie Lynn at the front desk, then tapped on Nick’s office door.
“Come in,” Nick called in a muffled voice.
Suzi walked in on a father-son hug. Eloy, tears streaking his cheeks, clung to Nick, who wore a pained expression, arms wrapped around his son’s shoulders. Suzi pressed her back against the door, silently waiting. She’d seen that raw look before—Nick must’ve just told Eloy about his cancer diagnosis.
They pulled apart, and Eloy mumbled, “Hi, Suzi,” wiping his eyes.
Nick offered tissues from his desk, then cleared his throat. “Suzi, as my partner, I want you in on this decision. Should there be a tie, I’ll have my father cast the deciding vote.”
She straightened instinctively. Nick’s words had a gravity that made her spine tense. “Of course,” she said quietly.
Nick folded his hands on the desk. “Eloy wants his share of my estate now, rather than later, so he can invest it in his day-trading. We’re discussing if that’s…prudent.”
Suzi’s mind flicked to Nick Sr. and how he’d long wanted to give Eloy some money. She also knew Nick Jr. worried Eloy might blow it. The question was whether they’d do so now or wait. But hadn’t Nick been planning to pass the business to Suzi eventually? She didn’t even recall formally accepting.
She turned to Eloy. “Can I ask you some questions?”
He blinked, nodding. “Sure.”
“How long have you been day-trading?”
“About ten years,” he said, glancing at his father warily.
“And your average return?”
“Depends, but around ten and a half percent annually,” he answered, sounding proud. “Twenty-five if the market’s high, and I’m aggressive.”
“Are you as aggressive with others’ portfolios as you are with your own?”
“It depends on what they want. Some people want safe—a lower, but almost a guaranteed return.”
“What is your fee?” She was in full interrogation mode now, surprising herself with how she rattled off the questions.
“One percent to buy, two percent at selling. Profit or loss.”
“So…how much do you want from your father?”
Eloy’s shoulders bunched. “I was asking for seven-fifty, but I could work with six hundred.”
Suzi turned to Nick with a silent request for paper and a pen. He slid them over, obviously confused at her sudden involvement. She jotted a few calculations.
“All right, Eloy.” She folded her arms, facing him. “What if you waived your selling fee? Instead, you charge three percent to buy?”
He looked thrown. “What—what do you mean?”
Overhead, something scuttled. Suzi glanced at the ceiling. Nick let out a heavy sigh. “Raccoon, or maybe a squirrel. Heard the damn thing all day. Exterminator’s coming first thing tomorrow.”
Suzi gave a pouted lip of pity for the creature. Then, she refocused on Eloy. “I’ll give you twenty-five million to invest for me. You take your three percent upfront—seven-hundred-fifty thousand—and invest the rest in aggressive funds. You earn me decent returns, we’ll talk about bigger sums.”
A beat passed, both men gaping. Nick’s and Eloy’s faces were mirror images of shock, jaws literally slack.
Finally, Nick muttered, “Suzi—I don’t think I can allow—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off as he started to protest. She’d never felt so firm with him before. “Eloy, you get me five to ten percent within a year, and we’ll consider further investments.”
Eloy lurched to his feet, nearly toppling his chair. He pulled Suzi into an exuberant hug. “Thank you, Suzi. I won’t let you down.”
Suzi patted his shoulders, her voice still measured. “It’s not a gift or charity. This is business. Be smart, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eloy said, eyes shining. He glanced to his father, but Nick still looked shell-shocked. Eloy seized the moment to escape before Nick tried to veto the deal. “I’ll text you the wire info,” he said quickly to Suzi. “Love you, Dad. See you tomorrow at dinner!” And he was gone.
Nick let out a low growl the instant the door shut. “Why are you playing with him like that? I don’t want him to have that money, and now you’ve given him hope.”
Suzi blinked, a surge of anger rising. “What do you mean? He gets his investment money, and you aren’t out anything. He’s earning it legitimately. It’s not a handout. What am I missing?” Suzi asked defensively.
Nick blurted, “I’m just guessing, but I think you are missing about twenty-five million dollars!?”
“No. I’ve got it,” Suzi said flatly.
Nick stared, dumbfounded. “How? Where?”
She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Mr. McGillicuddy’s estate.”
His eyes gleamed, face dawning with excitement. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll need to set aside something for his children. But there’s more than enough. Way more than I can spend in one lifetime.”
Nick looked pale, almost queasy, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. Suzi couldn’t blame him. She herself was still reeling at how much she’d inherited. She offered him the faintest of reassuring smiles, then quietly excused herself from his office, leaving Nick to chew on the fact that his mortician friend was apparently wealthier than he’d ever imagined.